That’s my love. Left in the psych ward designated smoking area:
I will wait. I will wait for you, unknown psych ward patient, patiently. I know you. Know one does. Yet you’ve my mother heart. Her whole incomplete: my never know rapture, night laughter amidst screaming, leaving with no option outside unless under an overpass unknown placated philistinism surmounted, yet not much else:
I sing for you, psych ward patient, amidst chaos whom has found a broken love worth mending, beyond my abilities, beyond my worth, beyond, beyond Beyond! Screaming in the night amidst laughter you know unknown truest soldier, the psych ward smoker whom has found a love static, I only hope you’ve found it in rare symbolic movement for the good none of us know, your private fix it up.
