＃８４

a million writers, coffee-drenched, desperate for faith

compiling autumns, bookstore french, melanchol mixtape

what to do with life and self?

whatever for and [sip] why?

and two blocks down in alley dark: sleeping bags, ammonia, an oversize hessian sack of stolen chocolates and sprite, needles at the bottom you'll stick yourself, eyes that don't ask anymore, slur, “known to police” . . . statistics making little landfill nests for whom fall is the coming winter and winter is the coming death