Was it the lake or the muggy, oppressive air?

Or was it her?

What inspired me so much?

Nature is well and good,

But I can’t seem to write without my misery.

I’m here.

It isn’t working.

This shit is all I have to show for myself.

I guess I should go.

Where are you when I fucking need you?

Why can’t I find what I’m looking for?

How will I know what I seek

When I don’t even know what it is?

By feel.

It’s peace.

It’s in her arms,

But where is she when I need her?

No drug can appease this ache;

No drink will cure these shaky hands.

I need her.

I need a touch, a kiss,

I need to hear her voice.

Where are you when I need you the most?

--Ron Hogan