There is no consolation knowing friends 
Are out there in the traffic 
Of investment 
Engaging in work in a greater 
Or lesser capacity than I am capable 
Of not being reminded Communication besieges me 
I can see every configuration in every configuration
Friends embedded in abstract incontinent workmanship 
TOO REAL
Being alive yet not 
Having embraced better dignity the fault 
Is mine adherence is too regular no
One can know what I am doing
I never know what anyone is 
Doing what 
Are you doing I want to know what you are doing 
What I never truly know
What you are doing without
Forcing the straw to the bottom I bend    
The head toward my mouth 
Can I hopefully without empowering disappointment 
In gender hit on
The workers anyway artists
Comparing themselves to the workers the artists
Spreading legs pursuant the sides of the sky drink the paint
As it drips from the base of the canvas 
To not keep riding over the edge of depression
What I will I will not look into the hearts of the people
Massed behind walls that establish the heroes
Lights are going on I turn mine down
At once lights fall into the void left by hoping 
The void will not follow