This is dedicated to someone who recently passed away. He was an acquaintance in the local music scene. He told me his secret, that he sees sex workers. He wanted to see me but he couldn’t afford it. If he had never told me that he saw sex workers, I would’ve just hung out with him and probably would have sex with him for free.
I feel terrible. Has this work made me value material items too much? Have I got lost in it all? I was lower middle class growing up and flat out poor from age 18-22. I feel like I have abandoned my true punk roots.
Your ghost interrupts my dreams
you haunt every part of my being
Paralytic desire of a rumination
Come when you don’t make sense
The nuisance of the adjacent
Your secrets die with you
And I for one, will never tell
My secrets die with you,
And you for one
Will never tell