it won’t lift until I leave. I am sorry my dear but i must leave you in this jungle. I am 20, I have seen the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness and vanity, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at beautiful dawn looking for an angry fix, Angel headed models burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night. hollow eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of room 15, lit gently by fairies and Tom and Jerry’s illustrated glow, The smoke climbs and crawls through the translucent curtains, I see my smoke floating across the tops of this city , I do this in every city I am in and I am always contemplating but this time it is different, I notice the Eternal Return to the same nothingness to an empty hotel room again just like in the last city. The same Characters , the same drama , the same events , like clock work , like seasons. I have seen all the city angels, ones just like you, staggering on tenement roofs, so illuminated, who passed through the same way every time, just like you, with radiant eyes hallucinating those London nights all over again to me. But you don’t know that’s what I see in you. When there was no tragedy, when the windows of my skull were virgin. It was safe to cower in that unshaven room, my fragrance pet maple stunk good, I sat in underwear, burning money in my wastebaskets and listening to the Terror and Nemo bubbles in peace.
I am just too faithful to my soil. I just had to leave it to figure that out. goodbye and goodnight. We’ve been in this room too long.