What an asshole!

he punched me.

I did not believe, he would hit me.

I stayed by him.

I gave blankets and food.

Slam!

My gut hit.

Who knew he would.

I went for the wrong reason.

Small moon or anger season.

His lamp in my face and I, now, the villan.

When all these clouds passed, I thought my name is the willing

Cut me short and I have lost.

Lets look forward at our cost.

I knew of he for over 10 years.

I only knew him for 1. 

We talked and gambled.

Sometimes looked at stars.

Sometimes had a sip.

Once smoked a cigar.

He was homeless at first.

But in the end I found home in him.

I woke back to reality.

My breath was thin.

After the air refilled the emptiness within. 

I could not help to question him.

Who is he?

What is he?

Why do we speak?

To get high off life while his thirteen dogs shriek.

Where is he from?

When is he rough?

I knew as i regained my breath that I did not know enough.

I backed up. 

My mind quickly withdrew.

I forgot everything I knew.

How can a rag man punch me for being late?

Why did he dicpline me for owning a phone I dont use?

When is it ok to punch a friend for getting caught up and  being passionate about helping others?

When is it ok?

When is it right?

But, why is it wrong?

Why is it not right?

He punched.

He signed me it's been over year. 

He asked me a question.

Why do you gravitate torwards me?

I responded lightly.

Sometimes you just need someone to punch.

Thats what I wanted to say but, sadly it was not sung.

Fuck him asshole.

How dare he punch a "friend"

How is the question?

How do I put it?

When a twenty year old helps a fifty year old for one year.

Nothing of material was gained .

Only codes and cheats on life from a different perspective. 

He has taught me enough. 

Enough has been said. 

Let him smoke.

I will understand. 

Let him drink.

I will understand.

But he made a choice.

We must help.

Help teach how to help.

Thats what Ill keep.

Give ways to give.

Thats what ill pocket.

It is time to help another.

It is time he is helped by others.

He flew from a far to enjoy my light, my wind and my water. 

But he is an old man that can take care of himself and many dogs.

Moving his pieces from the bush.

Phone charged and making calls.

Hes fine. Hes made his choice.

But maybe he is not the true sound of the homeless voice.

He had no house. 

He had no home.

He had no Id only a telephone.

He was indeed homeless.

I learned his habbits.

I watched his ways.

He was well fed.

His dogs were well fed.

He plants were happy.

What more can be said?

People must learn how.