I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
ery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene-
ment roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
publishing obscene odes on the windows of the
skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn-
ing their money in wastebaskets and listening
to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through
Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in
Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their
torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al-
cohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and
lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of
Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the mo-
tionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery
dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops,
storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon
blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree
vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brook-
lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless
ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine
until the noise of wheels and children brought
them down shuddering mouth-wracked and
battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance
in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's
floated out and sat through the stale beer after
noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack
of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to
pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brook-
lyn Bridge,
lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping
down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills
off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts
and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks
and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days
and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the
Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a
trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic
City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind-
ings and migraines of China under junk-with-
drawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the
railroad yard wondering where to go, and went,
leaving no broken h

I have climbed the highest mountain,
I’ve seen heaven,
Looking upon life with a thousand smiles,
But I couldn’t thank you enough for showing how,
Making me human all over again,
Realising that my life is worth living,
I’m never alone,
I will feel forever at home as long as I’m with you,
And I look into your big brown lion eyes and I see a million stars,
And you take my pain away and help heal my scars,
As we hug I feel I’m embracing an angel,
As your wings spread high,
I learn what it is to try,
To try and reach my highest goal,
You’re the one I want to grow old with.

When I see you, I get butterfly and looking at you makes me feel happy. You make me smile and you don’t even have to say anything. Being with you makes time go much faster. I hate that I don’t have enough time to be with you. I love seeing your smile. It makes me feel safe and warm. Oh and the best thing is when you stroke the back of my neck. It’s such a soft touch even with a rough hand. When I lie on your chest slowly falling asleep I feel wanted. You given me so many more emotions to such cold heart, it’s almost like I feel human again. I love it when you whisper sweet words in my ear. But when you’re gone, I feel so much pain. People say it’s called missing someone. People say its grief. I say that they are happy tears falling from face, because when I cry I’m thinking of all the happy times we shared. I’m thinking of you always.
Is that what love is?