Member the time we got so high we thought there was someone in the basement creeping around. I took my baseball bat, as we went down to see the cat litter smelling empty paranoia of our own craziness. "I'll pay you back when I get my tax returns," you said. "Don't worry about it, I just enjoy your company, wish we could sample this moment infinitely." I only knew you for a good year, but it was like we were child hood friends, or were destined to meet, both at 28. Conversations felt like they always should have. Abnormal ventricular paced voices wishing we had more. Your bent eyes, bent style, bending around me. The drawn out boisterously entertaining jokes you could tell at the drop of a hat, to make me come up, from coming down, you had the brilliant persona fed illusion of a total original character -egocentric artist, making something from nothing. You had that special walk, that cool guy talk, like an aura filled cabalistic gloom about you. You bastard. I loved you like the brother I never had. The time you stayed up all night reading my dirty comic books, and you slept all day, losing your job for never showing up. Spitting images, I spit on this, that I write, it's been brewing, it has to come out, to leave a bewildered stain for the unfortunate on lookers. Experienced distortion, you hit those drums like a man with a mission, with true energy fed aggression. Junkies tried to pawn your car and drum set when you left; reality can really piss me off. Just thought you might like to know. Your parents hired private detectives to find the culprits, the dealers, they couldn't understand you wrote your own death certificate. No one likes to be blamed. We could see what others could not, feel what each other thought, push the buttons that spew with rot. You showing up on my door step saying "Guess what I got?" "Please, come in, come in," chuckles. "Death is a part of life, most people don't like to deal with it, or think about it, but if you accept it, you'll live a fuller life" you told me that night, as we discussed every topic we could blabber about. You lurked beyond. It's good to get this out in tiny doses, but only in miniature taste tests, as we both ate like kings, overloading on the expensive cheese. Where's the time machine my friend? I must move on, somehow, tears only cause wanting, when wanting is never enough, as you know, it's just never enough. It's not a pretty place, but it's gone for now. Thanks for the warning of my life, old pal. When will it end my friend? . . .