Fear.Of.

I sit, and discharge, and
Quickly run from my writing place, a place of tumultuous secrets
I am not sure of what, but I would like to go away, and sit
Under a lovely hedgerow, in Coventry, or something silly like that

Fear of--

Work, and money
My own dying mind, my
Memories, passing into nothing

Older men staring at me
My viciousness, drawing them in
I am a bald shell of disbelief
Awakened, and bored with perseverance.

When I was thirteen, I lived in a shack
That is no reason to be so pitiful

1. At night the world crashes down on me
2. In this sullen hole, a reckless bore
3. In this messy life, the future has halted
4. There is no whole anymore, I stumble at the breaking spot
5. Looking down at the ignorance of life

6. Myself, written through and through--