The walls reverberate to Endors Toi.
I'm reading the collected works of Ginsberg
between bouts of dozing
in red eyed delirium.
I think I overdid it.
'Moloch! the man who got me
higher than the sky!'
of the last time I left India,
standing beside the Atlantic and
dreaming of the end of times,
sipping on zero calorie Coca Cola
and breathing cool, clean air
that tasted like the sea.
This memory is all that remains
of the best of times.
It's no wonder I can't remember yesterday at all,
or the month before,
or the year before.