by Sean Flynn

It’s been my pleasure

To know your names and faces

The crowds, weird and heavenly

Even though I’ve fed friends bullshit

And disgraced myself with enmity

It’s still been my pleasure

Because it’s a privilege to be a part of the human race

To grow capacities to think for myself

And wrestle with counsels of joy and despair

Both of which astonish me with their lack of upper limits

Nevertheless, I won’t pretend to act without fear

Because I shy in my dark, conflicting days

I’ve been in love with my quotidian, 

And at times absolutely not

But the anaesthetic enters not into it

For it’s the palpable everythingness

Which has me sated, fat and stoned on Life