My friend is a bloodsucker
he consumes all creativity
goes to every film festival
subscribes to the avant garde
stares and stares
endlessly stares
at forms and figures
at shapes that stand still
and shapes that move
anything that
recognized souls
can do
Museums
Art centers
Cinematics
are the canteens
that feed his soul
once I asked him
Have you ever
stroked your own line
gave from to your own soul
written something from
your own music?
His answer
were the tons
of tickets
lying on his
shelves
He was going
somewhere else