I been writing like a mad man and had my works passport get stamped in multiple countries .

Australia,  Italy , Germany , England, Indiana .

Okay Indiana was more a state run mental institution but I was published there none the less and I liked finger painting graham crackers and crazy women so probs to them.

I mean I didn't want to visit there or anything no offense but im not a big fan off fields and chainsaw art .

I stayed busy flask in pocket and my mind constantly towards the page .

I had gained respect but still I always found my way home .

For better or worse Hello has been the house that me and few other writers built I was here from day one i'm the flaw you just can't hide .

Everyone's favorite black sheep and all around lovable train wreck.

My place was permanent .

Like me or hate me you couldn't ignore me .
Well you could try but I usually won people over or annoyed them to the point of blocking me and joining the witness relocation program but enough about my past relationships .

I was taking some time off from three months straight of chasing publication.

I posted a write at this place I called home for so many years .
It was solid as a brick **** house .

Then some kid posted a write that was total **** but had a pic of her cleavage in the restroom mirror .

It trended in two seconds had a bunch of ***** ******* telling lies in vague hopes to see more .

I knew the ship wasn't sinking it long since met its demise on the icy dark oceans floor .

You just can't compete with *******.

I set my sails to the closest port .
I would share some drinks and maybe see some familiar faces .

I believe a pirate is better suited to roam than be food for the ***** .

My future is in the wind not lost within the depths .

Stay crazy hope are ships pass in the night .

And if ever we find ourselves in the same port .
First rounds on you .

Never sit and wait for decay on any level will consume you .

Stay crazy

Gonz

Someday will come for us.
Till then our blemished secrets
and tarnished dreams only lay in wait.

Our hands may now yield nothing...
But “someday” sleeps quiet
at the back of our minds.
Awaiting for enough time to elapse.

Someday can never be rushed.
It can never be summoned.
It will come when it comes
and when it does, we’d hardly notice
it’s arrival because the anticipation
and longing will be replaced by overwhelming happiness and relief.

So wait...
It will come.
Someday “someday” will be today.

he rises early, well before the premature, minutest hints of early dawn,
cradling tenderized words, from a silent marinating mind withdrawn,
some spices harvested from the soil's mortality of daily strife, others,
manna gifts of wild floral tenderness, plucked from Eve's tree of life

neither gardener nor chef, the fruits of his labor, are product of
a mothers mind's silent back labor, emerging with no notice or invitation, spilt from lips unmoving, eyes shuttered, fingers ungloved
ministering a Temple sacrifice of plain psalms authored but un-titled

some spark ignition causes a key reversal, from motionless to motion,
moving with no in-between, words simmering, from seeds unknown,
the dishe's integrity questioned, but it births itself, uncaring, eagerly, willing copied from cavern decorations of rude, wall drawings

almost fully formed, though untasted and undigested, a savant smell
provokes a leap from placid prone, to upright and seated upon the
throne of his writing desk, can one* *divine a recipe from odor alone,
thus claiming authorship of an untitled dish, one that can't be recreated?

sets it down before you uncovered, with a lustrous screen of silk damask,
plated on Royal Worcester fine bone china, yet, without any utensils,
asking you to ken this work,
*eat this poem, with bare hands,
love it as if it was your own first born,
consumed/consuming
a strange but familiar spirit

Forever and an instant met up one day,
had a short but lovely talk,
then each went on its way.