fortieth year - 5

it was my fortieth year to heaven when my minor genius melted into the magic of piano arpeggio holding your breath that somehow someway these things could remain

or if you could somehow inject direct experience into the minds of every person you ever encountered

dreaming that the antidote is orgasm

it was my fortieth year to heaven

when the cash machine was blue and green for a hundred in twenties and a small service fee i could spend three dollars and sixty-three cents on diet coca-cola and unlit cigarettes all my lies are always wishes i shake like a toothache when i hear myself sing

it was my fortieth year to heaven when i was sore when i couldn't distinguish anything at all be better be better better better

if you never ever say your name out loud to anyone they can never ever call you by it

it was my fortieth year to heaven when it occurred to me to offer this song to you

if was my fortieth year to heaven when it was clear i can't do this alone