Poems from hearden

Why do I still wake up? I ask myself. Why don't I still my breathing and die? Because... because I still have to live, still feel A sense...
Tomorrow night.
In my sorrow, I was supposed to call to you.In my distress, I was supposed to pray to you.In my desperation, I was supposed to cry onto...
It is the ragged, dangerous breathing inside of Manhattan alleyways,Threatening and heavy, its warm air creating moisture that sticks to...