April 12 1982

feeling a touch refined,
dinner and a glass of wine,
just what the doctor ordered,
i'll be alright
i needed the change
just to be out and among the population,
i may still find that someone out here,
it used to bother me doing this in public,
but no longer,
why should i be ashamed
i'm doing nothing wrong
these are my feelings
and noone can take them away,
i need my few releases
this is one of them;
i miss seeing the people i love
my lady,
my poet turned author,
any of the people i once cared for,
my tall dark lover of words,
the blonde
all still cross my mind,
i feel the need to be with them
yet to be alone,
neither is really possible.
i am alone in a crowd
yet never truely without my memories,
never truely alone,
a sometimes very scary thought,
what if i really had to prove
that i was only one
not the many who live here
could i?
i have worked so long to prove myself,
that we could all be here
and survive as one
like normal people,
so who dare to ask me to prove such a thing?
my lady,
if only to prove my love?
the blonde,
to prove he has been right all along?
my scholar,
he could ask anything of me
and receive it,
why can't i be like all the others?
is it my lot in this life
to be alone
in the crowd
and be so crowded in my own soul?