Untitled #39

Room full of people.

Attractive girls sipping Jack and Coke, no ice, twenty oz. bottles, Styrofoam cups.

Men smoke heavily, lounge while they drink Canadian beer, rum. Once belonged to my boss who resembles a chimney at the moment.

Slightly inebriated, the finer things in life, I continue to be accused, the loner in the corner, I cannot deny it, selfish, the way I feel most comfortable.

People are amusing.

I interact with the film, change the storyline, I don’t like the way it’s going, I’m too close to the screen. The picture is always clear, my eyes don't cross, nobody speaks to me. Not a complaint, observation, occasionally look over, make eyes. I know what you’re doing over there...

A small Japanese girl catches my attention and smiles while she takes a drag off of her cigarette. "I want to know what you are thinking," she asks with her delicate eyes. My emotions are all over the place. Since I was a child. I’m falling in love with every girl at the bar. Cursing them whenever it doesn’t work out. It’s a toss up. Highs and lows. Everyone knows. It shows.

Happy pills never work. Being a workaholic. A writer. Recreational drugs. Watching movies. Acting. No medicine for disease.

Help me.

I need help please.

A big enough cry.

- Benjamin D. Bain
(March 14th, 2006)