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This flowing flame
In the river of fear
Brings drought and drying to
So sticky mouth of hollow cave
Through which the river so once flowed

With desperate timing, of that
Never ending taste
Which consumed the whole body
That taste, being
Of time, time without limit
And with each swallow
With each swallow, comes life

Flowing, fasting so fluently
With logic and literacy, lingering
Once ...

Colors and time
Shadows arise
Hot and fresh from the café

Joyous sunset
Grass of wind and chime
Oil splashed upon my hair

Do we have time to see it?
Do we have time to look down upon it?
To paint the colors of temptation

Shine, shine with fresh air
Breathe in crisp vapor from the mountains
Vaporize thy mouth

Not to worry
With fury
Walk upon the earth
Without scorn ...

Silently, so softly
Is the noise and violence of sleep
Within it is ourselves, trapped
Overtaken by its spell, its
High singing, shall sleep not say
It is high time, time has come to stop
It has slowed and numbed its ticking
The narcotics of sleep being its cause

As if waking up from a weary dream
Forgetting the ability to remember
Overcome by a feverish high
So rests the sleeper in silence and persistence
...

Just as an opening note, every work from this blog is derived from danielbenoit.blog.com and is copyrighted. \
PLAGARIZING WILL NOT BE ACCEPTED

I've had good reason lately to think about the meaning of the term "friend". You see, when I attempted suicide the other Sunday, the man who talked me out of it stated that we had been friends for 30 years.

I thought about that long and hard over the next days. I appreciate what he did for me, but was he truly a "friend"?

Did he ever write in thirty years? No.
Has he ever called in thirty years? No.
Did we visit each other, did our ...