In words I can embrace you only to destroy all in flesh.
Are torments shared often compare are we not flawed my dear in love and charmed in life?
My monster of ego knows no weakness except the tears of your eyes I'm so sorry for the man I've become from demons I've cast we couldn't bare the flame yet in this dead of winter may we know are warmth.
Those eyes that I've seen fade now spring still my hearts wraith are the nights now colder alone or is my emptiness to much to bare?
Scars I have traced upon the flesh never mend that of this emotional drain you are that which I can never be .
You know the man not the image and I see through the past to what's of a bitter sweet embrace we have stood as enemies and loved as immortals.
A sunsets reprise often is the deepest sadness for in pain I see the beauty so few ever cared to know.
I am a villain to most and simply John to you.
Are roads cant be imagined yet I never would cast aside the wreckage for another to replace .
We understand what so few could ever fathom.
Together we are addicts of the abyss sometimes you realize the darkness brings far more comfort than the light .
I whisper to you in this night gentle for only you to hear.
Little girl do you grasp all that I can never say in words?
To most I am a monster but to you I am only John.
But as always I believe it's better to let the reader make up there own ideas for when we put out work it takes on a life of it's own.
you don't fool all!
you might hide behind
a glass of mesquite
but most people (beings)
read beneath your depth
that may be as shallow as a puddle
but don't we all muddle
through the rain?
and see our feet get wet?
There are roads that most won't
purposely walk at night
because on such desolate paths
things are wont to cause fright
Our Gonzo sits in the middle
of the path
a drink in one hand
and in the other?
Part of an old soul escaped
just looking for the other half
telling jokes about himself
that make others laugh
and he sips their happiness
from a half empty glass
Gonzo is just a paperweight
that sits heavily on a boney frame
John Patrick Robbins is an amazing writer, flesh and blood
A lover, a fighter
that leaves little rays of sunshine
on the path to Insane
In old worn-out lines we gather to collect dust phased only by our recollections of what never was meant to be.
I have come to terms with the emptiness that resides within us all.
Hollowed out is the shell is but a point.
It's standing merely a display.
Weathered hands broken egos have we all not felt the burn and then been left cold by yet another winters rain?
Old songs over bridges of memory some more weathered than others.
Deception leads to bitterness thoughts merely plague my reality.
Loneliness leads to weakness but I haven't found a better route yet.
The wolves howl hauntingly in the distance is my thoughts bleed trapped within this prison of reflection.
I'm far from over but don't let the rest of the bastards know that.
The reader is but a viewer to another man's soul, lurking within the confines of safety and warmth.
True depth is experienced never read.
Sometimes we all fall down my friends.
It was just another ordinary day at the Pub.
I as always at the helm tending bar hitting on hamsters and making crude jokes that usually walked the line and got me banned from a site that I was a living legend on.
Remember kids there is no Hello without Gonzo.
Hey Gonz you really need to do something bout the restroom some nameless bland writer that I probably liked cause I thought she looked hot said to me as she walked towards the bar.
What is somebody jerking off in there again dammit !
I swear creative bastards sure are a frustrated horny bunch.
Just then a old man walked from the restroom .
Granddad what did I tell you bout using the restroom?
Huh the old man replied with that look of who the hell am I am what the fuck is this prick behind the bar saying .
Yeah I get that look a lot .
What's that ?
He replied again as he staggered to the bar smelling of whiskey and piss yeah almost like Lindsey Lohans new perfume ode to a whore well minus the cocaine and bitter smell of a burned out former child actress.
What's that your saying?
The restrooms father time what did I tell you ,there strictly for paying costumers go use the alley where I keep your house slash cardboard box .
Oh yeah and by the way you still owe me rent duh just cause your old and related to me doesn't mean you can just sponge off me who do you think you are some washed up drunken writer who haunts a nearly dead website like some strange perverted ghost ?
Hey did you hit the blood bank you old fart?
But son they told me I can't go twice in a week or I could die!
Look old man if you cant do that then you better hit the street start jerking off truckers I swear it was good enough for grandma you lazy fuck .
I swear you give a semi senile old fart a spacious alley and wonderful box to live in as you take his social security and this is thanks you get.
Oh well least when he passed I can still collect his checks I'll just keep him in the walk in box nobody will know the difference .
Hey asshole don't talk to that nice old man like that.
A voice Interrupted me as I was about to remind father time he needed to sign his check duh how else do you think I fund the bar?
You really are a prick Gonz you should be ashamed off talking and treating that nice old man so terrible.
I couldn't believe the gull of this women and although I was slightly distracted by her boobies I had to keep focused cause this story had to end some fucking time .
Miss first off may I say welcome to the Pub and you have a great rack.
Screw you perve ! , She said in her angry yet I could tell she secretly wanted me cause I'm a totally delusional egotistical arsehole writer who is really long winded and enjoys cheap laughs and even cheaper hookers but only in moderation like Jesus kind of sense .
What to much?
Well you haven't read shit yet kids .
Miss I realize you may view me as a totally kickass writer and dude that you secretly want to have a goodtime in the backroom with .
Drop dead dick ! the woman replied .
Yeah I could tell I was wearing her down.
What gives you the right to treat this old man so cruel?
Duh cause he's my family silly woman and it's not like I'm cruel to him
in fact I treat him great don't I grandpa?
I haven't eaten in four days .
The old man replied .
You poor old sweetheart the woman said as she put her arms around the old man as he began to cry what a total pussy .
It's okay I'll get you some help .
Oh thank you so much your such a nice lady .
What the hell !
I herd the woman say in a semi state of shock as she realized in her effort to comfort grandpa he had grabbed a handful of some tight arse .
Get your hands off me .
The woman shouted but grandpa was stuck to that women like a tight pair of jeans .
Come on sweetheart give pop pop some love.
The old demented bastard said.
Screw this the woman said as she drove her knee about five miles into the old fart's junk.
The old man fell to the floor as all five of the regulars laughed and the dudes had to cringe .
You people are all insane screw this place she said as she walked out the door .
The old man climbed the barstool in the woes of agony a frustrated climber trying to hit the peak of that really tall mountain that I cant recall it's fucking name oh yeah Adele .
Give me a fucking whiskey and a ice pack you little bastard.
I swear pops that act never gets old you alright?
I said as I poured the old prick a strong one and handed him a steak.
What the hells the steak for ?
Duh the swelling dumbass besides we got to thaw it out anyways
somebody ordered one from down the street and would it kill you to shave I'm just saying the owner of the site really already dislikes me enough already.
Yeah you kids are fucked up with your cellphones and computers and your shaved pubes give me the old days where men were men and weren't afraid to be men and smell like men not French whores
speaking of whores dam I miss your grandma .
Yes the Gonzo clan it's so great to come from such a long line of misspelling drunken whore loving perverts .
You know pops maybe we need to pick a new scam to run on the yuppies I don't think you can take to many shots like that anymore.
Hey are you saying I'm old ?
Well when the first boat trip you ever took was on the Mayflower I'd say so gramps .
Well did that order for the steak include any seafood?
I replied as I poured me and the old man another.
Well cause it looks like there getting some crabs with there steak.
Stay crazy hamsters
It was a dream and we embraced it children fresh to play no time frame or end in sight.
As in those first stages we understand no remorse or pain simply the pleasure of time shared life truly turn's it all to shit in time my dear .
We laughed in those awkward moments of want and the cravings of pleasures unknown .
In moments I reflect between my personal haze so far the distance so bitter the man I can no longer understand to be myself.
In the eyes your innocence met life's sunset and I watched you become cold with are emotions winter.
Now empty I write as in other circles you breath to suppress yourself to none but me.
I remember the night together the walks down empty streets now that resemble myself pain doesn't fade it simply is masked by actors whom choose to pretend rather than exist.
Would you trade skill for happiness ?
The page I exist as I suppress everything that resembles a life.
It's always loaded I just haven't the balls to take the ride .
Empty is the park as strangers now walk a slope that's pitfalls stand without warning I wish you luck and hate the thoughts that you bring back to me I never stop thinking just choose to drown in the misery for others to enjoy.
I never forget I simply just mask what it is I never could
Old words empty page so distant we were.
Myths of logic the clouds loomed heavy I bask in the rejection as my flames have burnt themselves out I fear.
No chapter written, the end yet a scratch .
We spoke in riddles only to forget the reason now I find less bullshit in are lies so long I have forgotten are truths.
Dark scenes no light from this shutter so does escape the day burdens of are nights cast stones to a soon to be outgoing tide .
My words the ghost haunted only in shadows sometimes we must bury are dreams only to see nightmares through.
No pain me breath in a faithless embrace .
I no need for the stories so I will simply close the book.
Tomorrows a promise to the few and a reprise of extinction of my thoughts tonight.
Hate what you will never grasp I simply have grown to ignore it all the same .
A demented thought sometimes beats a million well intended lies.
Place your bets when the smoke clears I'll be there a little less left of the fool you once thought to know.
In the wreckage we stood in the moonlight now shadows we've become chase the rats away from the bones .
To many times I have chosen to exist a shell of the canvas can you still recognize what I no longer see myself?
We can kill in passion and thrive only within lust.
We can exist for today only to yearn for a image of what was never are past.
It will all have to fade sometime my dear .
Maybe we could ignore this but it's just not me to play it safe.
And when you find the edge will you push past or simply turn around?
Lit cigarettes linger as once did I there is always a part that should never be taken away .
In the moment we lingered as children afraid of the unknown .
then it was s nothing more of you as always there was far less of me . .
Fuck the past it only serves a crutch to collect dust with bitter thoughts and run down as this half vacant room.
And in the silence we knew the answers to questions we never cared to ask.
The page is dry .
It's a question I dreaded as much as any other .
It was always a simple one to ask and often the hardest most fucking annoying question to answer.
They seldom cared it was more like what they were expected to ask and I loathed the looks they gave when they asked it.
It was a mix of this idiot doesn't even make sense how could he be anything more than a bum.
That and well guess there's no need in asking does he work for a living.
My answer was always the same and it seldom was the answer they themselves thought they wanted to hear.
I write about life.
How do you mean?, they would always ask confused as I was on how to answer this simplistic question.
I write about the people that fill the bar the ones that judge outside the bar, the women long since who have become bitter and the drunks who are just happy to catch a buzz.
I write bout the bastards who thrive off the misery of others and the cruel bitches who break those same bastards all the same.
I write about myself cause I truly don't give a shit to know about you .
I just write because I exist.
And I write for I am a writer .
I paused to see the look that although the face was different the look was all to familiar.
Umm okay well I wish you the best.
The woman said as she turned and simply walked away wishing only to distance herself from the man who she could not tell if he was insulting her or just to caught up in his own bullshit to give a dam to begin with.
I had to laugh to myself for even though I was far from a people person sometimes I wish only to know this answer to this fucking question that followed me like some dark cloud.
My work always spoke for itself but it thrived separate from the man few people truly know .
And with me I always preferred to be distant from the reader.
I had been writing for as long as I could remember but those around me would truly have no clue if you asked them about my work.
And honestly that's how I prefer it.
The pen and the page hold magic and me I simply hold a drink.
Two forces that exist as one but make no mistake are greatly separate by design .
I would rather people know the illusion than the fool behind the curtain.
For when after they read the writer.
Seldom if by some strange chance we met did they ever ask so what do you write?