Spent in New Orleans the bourbon kissed the streets only to find me alone again.

The night was wild and all those I need not mention to those whom truly understand.

We had miles ahead No rest in sight There comes a point being on empty seems like are full on a spring afternoon.

And us alone with are vices kept silent as the effects took there toll and are past memories flooded are thoughts.

Cigarettes and coffee one night stands and other vices stained are existence as the road somehow kept it all clean.

In moments of decay and Saturday night excursions broke are wallets and fueled are thirst.

There were miles ahead so I simply laid my head against the window And blocked it all out for the time being.

Another stop of and a month till I saw that place they tell me is home .
Empty as we run till hell kicks us back.

See you soon postcards and nonexistent phone calls
I'm never here sweetheart and always around .

Don't be sad I can't recognize myself
anymore either.

She had no reason and I wasn't going to ask.
Her  body left as her thoughts I was removed from long ago.

The rides that we viewed from the pier the sunrise and passed drinks I was a phantom a shadow of the man who gave all to the page and nothing to her.

No magic holds more true than the waves crashing endless into the fading darkness shore .

I had stood long before and I would stand long after .
They all leave you empty as when you first met.

This was far from my last .
The page held more than a shallow hearts departure .

There's no regret in goodbye .
Just a change if scenery.
A bottle in the sand and my thoughts to themself

She left the room.
And left me together thinking I'd be torn apart.

But my thoughts are all that has ever been the whole of me .

And the silence played endless in perfection with the crashing tide.

Your passion remains where they leave just the same.

I question nothing to see the end isn't in my cards but I will drink until my sunset and **** those who never got it to begin with!
Skeletons don't gather in closets for a hide nothing from the page and everything from you my dear.

Are pages filled and now we are left with a paper cut that bleeds  only for the times that have past.
Guess the cards were **** to begin with.
Let us dance one last time to let me know your love that resembles decay.

Strangle the fruit and leave only rot  in destruction we blossom now can we just lay for the time to pass and not say goodbye.
Maybe your embrace of sand was water to dessert and I simply eager to thirst.
Fools often find comfort and old wolves simply die.

Maybe in a reflection when the ripples have past we can view it as it never was right now.
Distance will find us strangers and I'm not the type to just exist to suit another's heart.

We knew the end we just chose to taste the storm for what it was and nothing more .
A forgotten storm raining gently upon this souls tin roof.

I have tasted happiness as of wine and bitter choices .
I do not care to linger anymore .

The room was filled with freak ******'s and other assorted nut jobs and then there were the folks that weren't writers.

It was a poetry reading open mic deal yeah what a wild party this was going to be but being the best of the best from Hello were supposed to be there I figured my invitation must have got lost in the mail.

You know what that is kids.
See before the net you actually had to get off your lazy **** to mail a letter yeah I know how ****** up is that?
It's almost like music where you actually play instruments  to enjoy instead of steal a loop from one of your parents records yeah don't pretend you understand that one if you under the age of thirty .

But enough with the foreplay children .
The room was packed the poets ready and as I took my seat I was shocked to find they wouldn't be serving ***** at this snooze fest .
Probably a good idea cause after teen age Timmy read his ode to his two day relationship we would all probably slip into a coma .

No worries much like batman but not as gay.
, I always had my trusty utility belt I'm kidding I just had a flask what kind of freak do you think I am?, Okay don't answer that one hamsters.

So after ordering a coffee and adding a little ******* tonic  I sat back and waited to listen to the young crop of writers read there poetry eager to take it all in yeah, right I did as always sat back and waited to
heckle the **** out of everyone hit on the waitress and generally be known as the loveable poetic areshole  of the site.

The time flew.
If by that you mean the time dragged on like we were being ear ***** by a duet between Justin Bieber    and Selna  Gomez .
It was brutal I tell you but the tide was about to make a turn for the better .

As the MC  for the event announced we have a special guest in the crowd tonight and hopefully with a round of applause we can get him to do a reading for us folks give a warm round of applause for .

I jumped to the stage the truly poetic ego maniac ***** eager to save the day or at least give it a good kick in the *** there's only so much
you can listen to of this yuppy ***** before you go insane hamsters .

The woman must have been in shock being in the presence of the greatest co writer in Hello history .
For she looked at me like she had no clue who the hell I was .

Um sir do you mind getting off the stage we are getting ready to ask Joel M Frye  to the stage.
Joel ?

Yeah sure he's a great writer and can spell and his farts smell of cinnamon and pier one or at least I have herd.
But do you have no idea of who I am woman?

She looked at me with a mix of sympathy and probably thinking I wonder if the institution knows he's escaped ?
Umm no sir sorry I don't have a clue.

I had to take in consideration this poor women probably had a smaller brain than the genius that stood before her .
I am Gonzo my sweet lady I said really slow so she could understand
cause she had a smaller brain I'm not saying that cause she was a woman so don't get all *** crazy on me sisters cause you know Gonzo loves you all like a perverted uncle .

Gonzo where have I herd that name oh yeah I know you I thought you died ?
What duh I'm standing here aren't I?

Wait a minute maybe I'm a ******* zombie **** I hate to think I'm one of those walking dead ******* although I have had *** with some ladies I swear could pass for a zombie course that was probably just the drugs I slipped them hey don't judge  I'm kidding I would never do that I do what every true gentleman does when in need.
Pick up hookers .

Hey John Joel said as he slipped up behind me like some poetic ninja .

Joel amigo how the hell are you please do me a favor and explain to this woman just who I am I mean really yeah it's like they don't know how kick **** I am .

Well Gonz maybe I can talk them into letting you do a reading .
Look this guys totally ******* nuts okay so bare with me Joel
whispered to the mc lady  who's smaller brain was truly annoying the **** out of me.

Gonz let me just work this out okay buddy .
I began to object then Joel pulled a truly ***** trick by handing
me the most recent issue of hustler magazine  .
From what I herd it had a great article in it yeah right you have to admire **** that doesn't pretend to be nothing more than what it truly is kind of like me  .  

The woman and Joel spoke for some time and I assume she had seen the error of her ways as she laughed and shook her head oh that Joel he is a charmer.

I  was almost halfway through the ****** hunt  section when .
Joel appeared again like some magical poetic ninja slash friendly dragon .

Gonz man I pulled some strings and after I do a reading your going to close the show hell I even got you your own dressing room and everything figured you'd like to warm up a bit or at least not ******* in front of everyone it's getting a bit awkward I'm just saying bud.

I had to admit Joel was a true friend and as I was shown to the back dressing room it truly tugged at that lump of coal I called a heart to know I still had a true friend on the site I could trust .

Okay here's your dressing room Mr Gonzo it must be a awesome one I thought to myself for it had a big red sign above the door man they truly went all out for me .

But much like when I learned where babies come from my delusion was soon broken in half yeah I always thought they came from dumpsters like I did.

I was standing in a alley ***** cold there were no drinks or hot chicks with there ******* out as I had been promised .
****** man I was starting to believe I had been tricked.

I quickly made my way to the front of the club to tell Joel what these ******* had done !.
But the doors were locked man poor Joel they have trapped him inside
anything could be happening I sure hope he wasn't being ***** .

I banged on the door but couldn't see anything for the lights were off
it's like the people inside were avoiding me like most my friends .

Hey I know your in there open up you *******! .
Woman with the small brain I called out.
Please if you can here me please get Joel out of there he's to good to be tarnished by your terrible readings or *****  cause that's not funny haha yes it is I'm so demented.

I sat there for what felt like ages .
and after five minutes I had to give up Joel was lost to the poetic **** inside ****** man so many good writers have been lost to such lures as these coffee shop readings.

I made my way to the local bar heartbroken seems there was no love for Mr Gonzo left in this town  .
I ordered a double and drank one to my friend who probably is reading this and thinking what the **** am I on this time .

Well it's mix of speed and bourbon but I'm  taking it a bit easy these days .

Dam you!, poetry coffee house readings you have taken far to many of my friends .
I drown my sorrows and passed out as usual and thanked the lord I had escaped with my life and Joel's **** mag I will treasure it forever my friend.

Until next time
Stay crazy kids .

Gonzo

Never listen to the praise it's a poison that will drive your work to cater to the mundane.
Rejection is good but if you are going to be made of glass you picked the wrong path .
There is never a right way simply your own.

Ignore those voices that question everything take off the brakes and go full throttle for it's better to burn bright for a short time than to waste away a sad parody of your true self.

I'm no expert just another ***** at the keys typing away his life drink in hand killing the moments till there's nothing left but dust and memories for which stories will be cast .

The page is all that matters nothing more .

I have sacrificed all and I dam sure am not stopping till I die .
It's never a choice for the true writer .
I never viewed the road and saw many directions for me it was a straight ******* line since day one.

I may be a ******* to some but I will always be what most can never grasp.
True to myself .

No regrets ,No remorse .

I have tasted the pavement far to many times my words are like scars they carry a weight I cannot deny.

The faces always change yet my goal has never changed.
To make that page bleed to my will .

There's no easy way to get anything in this life worth a dam.
Likes are a ******* joke popularity his for high school has-been's emptiness is the truth of this road friends are few and rejections many.

If you choose to take this road all I can say it's one ruff ******* ride.
But if you are truly a writer there's no choice it's just the way it is .

No regrets and no ******* remorse!

In burnt out scenes I lingered like some old lab rat or some apocalyptic cockroach glowing in the dark and still existing in this modern wasteland.
Vegas is an illusion 1 billion bright lights shining out in the distance with no true soul or depth.

She was the past and I was too old to look  back.
Or maybe just too jaded my ego too big to fathom her ways.
You are a mystery a unwritten story best left untold no true emotion and an endless supply ******* to keep you warm.

There is solace in isolation a madman's prison the paradise to troubled thoughts I had everything my drugs my ***** my addictions serve me well.

And as for you my dear.
I will see you tonight rapped in lace and bound by secrets.
I will see you for only the way you choose me to see you.

There are no true answers  to questions only more stories.
And she was a chapter unto herself passion, hatred, love, all things she had learned served her as my addictions suited me.

We would meet again for fools in the storm often take shelter anywhere they can.

I never wrote a mystery until I met her.