I was half hung the **** over and feeling like total **** left to die.
The ***** was gone and the room looked like someone had set a bomb off in a ******* .

The phone rang out a ******* annoying *** banshee much like a Selena Gomez record sure everyone likes spoiled little ****** just not with the  sound on.
I answered the phone with all my southern charm.

What the **** do you want ! ?

There was a dead silence when finally a voice spoke on the other end.
Um MR Robbins  is this a bad time?
Well considering I haven't had a drink and my head feels like it was
hit by a plane nobody can find yeah sure it's a great ******* time.

Well MR Robbins the man continued on about **** I could care less about going through his whole pitch trying to sell me some over priced life insurance .
Yeah you got to love a paycheck you'll never see newsflash after I kick the bucket  I don't give a **** if you roll me up in a carpet and toss me in a landfill .

Well MR Robbins can we sign you up ?
I paused just to simply to hold up the works and make you the reader say where the **** is he going with this ****.

My friend I get this is your job but the only thing certain in this existence  is death  and I have far better things and strippers to waste my money on than a fund  for  when I kick the bucket .

Sure I could put money aside for a time I wont enjoy it, yeah and I could settle down get married become a regular dude who works his *** off till I retire to sit in a recliner **** myself and watch commercials about pills that'll give you a stiff **** and so many ******* side effects you'll do everything but glow in the ******* dark.

There is no ******* promise of tomorrow kids so live your **** off today and **** the future we can only know the present.

I slammed the phone down and poured what was left of a dead solider in a pint glass .
It was bitter and almost warm and as I chased it with a good cigarette
and thought to myself  as the jukebox came to life .

Dam I sure hope that was a beer if not someone probably needs to go to the free clinic .

Stay crazy hamsters .

Gonzo

No drug on earth can match that which fuels the ego as fame.
As everyone wants to be someone and only some may be.
I spark my own urges and fueled my own flame far too long maybe this runs finally over, maybe I truly don't give a **** anymore to begin with.

As for the dues I've paid you
simply couldn't understand.
Broken body parts burnout relationships sleeping in the streets the backdrop was always there I need only to open my eyes to find a source of inspiration.

My footsteps cast as my shadow does loom I would pity those who try to follow but remorse never suited me very well.

And to grasp that faint chance.
I've just a moment and sacrificed many.
If you believe I am a parody and I'm to believe your one to.
Quicksand logic will always be a bitter egos demise, and I've long since passed the mark of any to sort of return to normal .

I played the stage as I played the audience fine-tuned my craft using it only as a weapon it soon became far more than I bargained for.
I'm tired, I am broken I'm all that which you probably believe and far worse.

It isn't for the lack of imagination it simply I could give a **** less.
Do not choose to be a chameleon to blend in simply to exist.
I stand out not to be fashionable but because it simply just who I am.

My road was carved through frustration and turmoil the homicidal chaos leaves little mystery care to challenge my point?
And though I certainly embrace my demise I certainly I'm not the fool who is imprisoned to a act.

We only know what others let us see, and the rest we simply fill in the blanks.

My dues have been paid in emptiness a skill forged in hell cast to leave the page to bleed.

The footsteps left behind are my own.
Make no mistake with anything in life somebody always has to get hurt.

I've seen it said before so many times yet like words spoken of a handed down nature the pompous always tend to ignore great truths of the past.
I've seen great writers turned absolute **** with the stroking of their own ego.

I'd seen critics forged their own wants in the weakness of others who listen to bull crap wanting simply to be accepted.
Some chase what they believe to be a set path, there is no roadmap to success simply an afterthought to the losers who chase dreams often not their own.

I never chased ****!
I was always me not some watered-down version of another character I thought I could be so that's what you assumed.
Well you can assume your *** right out the door and out of my ******* face!

I live with no purpose I simply exist I thrive in my own madness and care little for the opinions of others.
I never force the write I simply follow it to wherever it leads me a river has only one direction.

Never truly believe your own *******.
Never think you're better simply know who you are.
Don't toil over the works of others admire it for what it is but don't let it **** with your head.

I never became a writer I just always was it wasn't  the cool thing to be it's just ingrained in my DNA.
The drinking, the drugs, the fast life wasn't some stylized afterthought  to seem hip it's just who I am.

You see my friends anyone can write but few can truly connect.
The page knows me better than I know myself it is here I'm vulnerable, it is here I am real for this is my existence.

It is my passion.
It is my life and ultimately it will be my death.
There is no gimmick and I never cater to a critic for one pompous ***** opinion matters less to me than a man who sits beside me and shares a drink.

Honesty is a poison in a society loaded with *******!
Never fear rejection and always embrace defeat without thought of a backup plan.

My work is my soul dark as it may seem never hasn't been considered fake.
But then again what do I truly know?
For to many I'm just a joker the town drunkard who sees more through dark glasses than many see within the light of day.

Never believe your own ******* because the moment you start to is the moment you begin to decay.

I cannot say it wont be missed it's simply my soul much like the piano has long since been out of tune.
A half herd chord and a bruised liver wont **** the memories .
Maybe another round with a bitter pill chaser will do the trick that never
felt so desolate until right now.

Maybe some can take comfort in shadows I've found them strangers
for far to long tell them I said goodbye before are words shall be taken from context.
Lets just  exist in these lonely hours once more.

Can I borrow your hearts one last time will we connect as friends or vanish as smoke rings a display to magic and a old fools logic .
Can you play me that song and leave out the ending we see fit to declare .

Will you hear me last as I speak my words nothing was are destiny,
shall we dance to the tune long after the music's fade to people in form of a portrait and nothing more tonight?

I have ran miles now I simply rather sit here alone with you.

I'm not putting it down simply putting me first it's been far to long so sorry if you cannot grasp.

no hidden message need poison the pen for my words have always rang true to those whom understand.

The music fades as so must we all one seat a place not to be removed
what we cannot grasp so easily replaced .

The lights have went dim and the ghosts leave to haunt there corners of existence as so must I.

Standing upon a empty stage underneath a lone spotlight.

In smoke rings half filled glasses guilty vices filled underneath the darkness don't forget to tip your server.
The devil thrives in the empty hours, it was designed to drive you insane in these thoughts that haunt you for eternity.
I'm alone with you now take it for what it's worth.

Where do you lines separate?
Where do we say here's where it stops, here's the barrier between my life and you.

I have driven myself on pills and other assorted drugs displayed my existence the demented soap opera for your entertainment.

I am the closest you can come to the razor without feeling the blades cold burn.
Read in comfort while exploring the depths I'm worn from the play.
Squeeze the wound only to gain one last bit of soul upon the page.

As the wolves ask all can we quench this thirst, giving  no regards to ourselves?
I exist on the other side of the window pane.
A stark reflection of the tragic flaw no one should understand better than I.

For their are little rewards in others gain.
They hand you new vices to replace all for which they have stolen from you.
For other's see delusion as a dream, they admire you yet offer you lust in place  of depth.

And the flesh is a favorite vice of mine when lights are always turned low.
You may grasp the keys to your own prison, hold the bars in place of friendships.

Was it all an act?

My friend you tell me.

Spun from tracks a one way Outlook seldom lends to a bright vision  escape.
I've come to grips with the losing side counted hours borrowed change.
Where it all ends at sunset even beautiful is simply a passing moment all too soon forgotten.

A needles sting in long sense forgotten fire, cleansed of existence and newly paved highway lent to a dead-end mindset may the ******* glorify this moment!
For shallow truths seem to vanish in contemporary romance of addiction.

A window seated view to the trains derailment is a one way trip not worth the mention?
Embers of the spark have long since become outcast of the fire.
Tonight I only need to connect in the worst way possible, can you spare a moment only to cast it in regret?

Art is easy life is not the page simply an afterthought of our existence.
Never cast in stone what would never take to mold to begin with.
I never linger on others mistakes for I have far too many flaws of my own.

To head off the rails is not to find solace in the legend, merely a side effect of life lived by the sword.
We glorify the mistakes of others only to forget our own.
The cast judgment and yet another bitter pill.
How very tired of become of the scene.

Maybe we embrace chaos only to chase some semblance of distorted peace.
Maybe there was really no plan at all to begin with.
We are the after effects of the wreckage left to be viewed far better than we truly ever were.

A snowfalls mirage hides only with season, nothing shall stay buried forever.
Captured a image and hold it closely .
Say hello to delusion for me art was never intended to be safe.

Off the rails was it's direction there is no glamour in an untimely fade.
The intentions are always pure just somehow everything gets ****** up in the end.
Remember it as you like.

I was at the bar big ******* surprise I know .
The pub was empty well aside from a few selected drunks but really there more like a modern art display that has to **** more than a toddler .

I sat there good Irish coffee in one hand laptop upon the bar my normal morning ritual
No I wasn't looking at **** I'm kidding of course I was duh what goes better with coffee then watching total strangers ******* a circus ****** but enough about family programming.

I had decided to take a change of pace no I wasn't watching barnyard babes instead get your mind out of the gutter you ******'s who do you think I am the owner of this site?
No I decided to swing by my true stomping ground the true home of Gonzo Hello .

I as always stopped by to check the tombstones of my amigos now long since passed .
They were all there on full display a reminder of a past I truly cant forget.
Then I decided to check out the new who's who of the new Hello .

There poems about Mom and Dad and that first crush and other assorted high school horseshit
that was as about as interesting as watching a marathon of twilight backed up by that closet case
Harry Potter honestly I thought that was a great **** name .

Just then I herd a school bus with it's annoying *** air brakes come to a halt outside the Pub
The doors flew open and fifty or so hobbits came wandering in the bar dear lord was it some sort of strike?

Hey there Gonzo I'll take a Bud Light and a bag of chips please.
Want a coloring book to go along with that Bilbo?
Hey look grandpa just do your dam job and get me a  beer okay?

This strange little hamster must have fallen out of his crib and cracked his skull on his power ranger if he thought I was some sort of man servant I swear do these little ***** get there manners ?
I looked at the group of micro mini people thinking deep and long  and sort of ruff with a slap on the **** before I dared to reply.

Okay you little ******* I'll bite but not that hard just who the hell are you and what in the **** are you doing here?
Were the new in crowd of the site were poets father time!

After almost laughing myself to death I decided to entertain the little hamsters .
Okay short stack but before you ask we don't serve milk and cookies and nap time is whenever you hit the floor.

Hey what's with this stupid *** jukebox there's nothing but music on here done by people who actually play music duh what kind of **** is this.
I believe it's actually called music or as your generations rappers like to call it three mile.
Samples to talk over to your generations ****** music.

Hey old man you better watch it what you hate rap?
No I don't hate rap I hate your rap  by the way number seven your banana split is ready.
Hey I got to pay the bills somehow people I haven't had costumers in like five years .

Look Gonz the leader of the diaper gang  spoke up.
I know were younger but we have a right to be here as well were just trying to express areselves and share are work is that so wrong.

The Jim Jones wanna be had a valid point but I honestly didn't care for my mind was on a much deeper subject the music played as in the corner four little mini ******* hotties in school girl outfits
danced away to some sort of teenage ***** they called music.

I was lost in my thoughts of um like deep poetic **** it's to deep for you to grasp .
I'm kidding I was just watching the show thinking hey I don't have to pay for this?

Gonz hey Gonz earth to Gonz  .
Well everybody I tried I guess we better leave I don't think he's interested  in us having a
open mic  poetry night.

The music had stopped and the mini ***** were almost out the door but like some perverted ninja
I stopped them before they reached it.
Hey what's this I don't want to hear a open mic night duh I'm all about hearing your poetry
especially these little stripper poetry were do you all work I just love your costumes .

Um there are school uniforms pervert the one replied .

Hey look Gonzo It's  cool man we'll just be gone I mean you don't want to serve us and all.
I had to think  fast there leader was talking them almost out the door and I really couldn't afford
another kidnapping charge yet again don't ask.

Hey wait gang I was just ******* with you hell drinks on me what's your name Brittney Veronica Kelly hell it doesn't matter just pull yourself up a high chair and name your  poison.
What will it be beer wine crystal **** I know how you kids love that **** Brittney maybe you'd like a smooth roofie margarita I make the best in town just ask Lily .

Hey man what about that jukebox ?
I pulled out my trusty 38 the everyone hit the floor   as the sound blasted through the room worse than Justin Bieber getting **** ****** in county.
Oh baby baby Nooooo but enough with the foreplay children.

Honestly I never knew a power wheels could go that fast .

***** that jukebox amigo that's what mp3 players are for  .
I blasted some sort of strange music and poured the drinks as the hobbits began to
lose themselves in sort of twisted movements they called dancing dear lord man
they could really hold there drugs .

Then came there spoken poetry crap slash wet T shirt contest .
The party was a mad mad scene  like MTV's real world except with actual humans .

The mini strippers slash go go dancers were just about to get on the bar when all the sudden the doors flew open and the dark Lord himself once again stood in pub.

The room went as silent as when a semi  insane hillbilly on a **** TV show does a interview
and people find out he really is a backwards dip **** .
The dark lord spoke Gonzo!

A voice from under the bar spoke up he's not here *******.
Gonzo get your drunken *** from under that bar before I make my man servant come get you.

I popped up faster than a seventy year old man on ****** .

Hey boss how's it been dam you look great can I get you a drink hey have you been working out?
Look you halfwit clean this party out right now I could ban right this very moment .
Hey now look Adolf I was trying to connect with the hip new younger crowd is all because
I believe that a young mind is a terrible thing not to be totally wasted .

Seize him the dark lord called out to his staff of four halfwits .
I fought hard but eventually feel to the powers of those lady truck drivers let me tell you
those ******* fight ***** it was almost like getting *****  ****** if only I hadn't forgot my whistle.

Beaten shaken without my speak being slurred I was handcuffed and taken away .
And as I was being taken out the door a young little hamster spoke .
Hey Gonzo can I have your laptop yeah kids there real wise ***** sometimes.

The young hamsters all sat outside the pub as I was loaded up in the pinto hey poetry doesn't pay kids.

Goodbye Gonzo we'll miss you said one of the stripper students whatever the **** they were.
Goodbye little ***** I'll think about you often well I mean as long as I can remember.

I watched as the kids were scattered to the wind and my Pub was destroyed .
As I was taken away riding into the sunset like some outlaw in the back of a really ****** car.

Was this the end for are brain dead hero?
Would Hello finally see the demise of the legend slash guilty pleasure of Hello.
Would Timmy finally get out of that well to question his own sexuality?

Would this write ever ******* end?

Tune In next week for the exiting conclusion kids.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming .

Stay Crazy.

                                                         ­           Fin