Homeless

I do not know that I will ever recover from what I have seen and experienced here in Hollywood. I see the homeless talking to themselves. Talking to the ghosts no one else can hear or see. Ghosts that they themselves have become. I watch them day in and day out fall apart, slowly dieing from listless gaze, broken limbs, diseases that keep them warm, eat them alive.
And I wonder, should I help any of them, where does it begin? I tried once, and was refused. I offered food, a dish full of the very things essential to living, and like a broken record "no, no, no...." I cannot pity them, I fear them, because I fear myself, wondering how long it is before something snaps me into a psychosis, stuck like a record, unable to move from one thought and action to the next. Jokingly I could say its happened before, but not to such desperation.

It's easier to have a shouting match with God from the roof tops of the buildings here in Hollywood. And maybe that is where it starts. At times I just want to shout until my voice dries up, hoping for one little reply, one hint of proof that this life isnt just a guessing game. That there is some rhyme or reason as to what happened to the lot of us. It's easier up there because there are no walls to hear my prayers echo back at me, no whispering reminder that nothing comes as planned, and no voice will rent the air and speak marvelous things. Outside, the skies absorb the utterances. Prayers hit walls far away and fall into the ears of the mad, those passing by, walking their dog, running to self abuse, and so it all continues.

The same actions the insane engage in, I find myself hinting at, thinking my reasons are oriented toward the Divine, that what I do is reaction to a Divine and real causality. And perhaps the ghosts that walk the streets do to, but give different names; a penance so dire it will have their physical life soon, already robbed of peace and sound thought. Something about the wondering gets to you after so long, too long by yourself. Some find it odd when they see people talking to themselves; it can be weird, but the real alarm comes when you start answering yourself.

Maybe we're all nuts, and it's only a matter of time.