Love Sick Is a Horrid Hang-Up

Love sick is a horrid hang-up, to know that no one with call you, or no one cares for you not one living thing; Not even a snail moving slowly in a gutter, or a snake slithering in desert sand pools, not even that one beautiful girl with diamond eyes; not one will ever come and just talk. I hear the birds talking back and forth to each other, five in the morning in the cool dawn morning; I think they talk of me- (who is that brown-eyed boy, -who cries such tears of sorrow-) I don't think that though- they must be talking of the morning sunrise. They might not even know that I'm down here thinking of them up there- -or do they?) .2.23.2014.