In Here

Hi, how are ya? What are you Doing these days? Well, I have no job, no house mortgaged to the hilt in My Name, nor a fancy car ... Who I Are? Nothing ... if not what I am Doing. What are You doing? Nothing. How to be a Human Being if not Doing? Soul scream Here I Am. How Important, how Special Spiritual Human crying why must I be what you cannot see? Maudlin muck passing for poetry oozing out of fogged memories, rusty rembrances ... who cares? Are you there? Oh, there Is friendship to share, and bodies to hug, souls to unite in sentimental religiosity or some other 12-step way of eternal psychobabble. Here inside a processor of words I am alone always. Finding solace ... or merely florescent yellow letters glowing together in meanderings?