I want to make money
and give it all away

Complacency is often mislabeled genius
In poems teeming with pretentious words
and trite metaphors bought in bulk
over compensations for a poem lacking depth

There's an elegance  in simplicity
a celestial spark, in the ability
to make the ordinary seem divine
and to turn simple into sacred

We are all gods, aching in our humanity
we are all oracles, with prophecies waiting to be told
So dip your pen a little deeper, press pen to paper
until heaven is felt in every verse

*G e n e s i s  is only a poem away

Take these words and hold them dear
as proof that once I lingered here
within these hallowed written walls
that speak the fate of one and all.

Do not mourn me when I'm gone
heal your heart and carry on.
In sorrow ne'er my heart did dwell
for I was blessed to know you well.

Place no flowers, lay no stone
for barren earth is not my home
no marker there to bare my name
no mourners heads bowed deep in shame.

Shed a solitary tear,
then walk in light and never fear
as darkness creeps across the land
I will be there to hold your hand.

the fungus are among us
among us, and abundance of humongous fungus
the substance spun us into funnel monkey dumbness
no longer numbness we felt the suns bliss
sun kissed wondrous fun.
feeling the youngest we dismissed all toughness
no longer rambunctious
we had won us a moral compass
complete sublime oneness
glad we had done this
we yelled cowabungas

I wanted her to live. I wanted to escape reality with her. To go somewhere peaceful. To find solace outside of the usual myriad of sounds and sights.
I wanted to take those little pills and find freedom like I always did, and so did she. So did she. So did she.
But there is no freedom, only a lack of personal imprisonment. It is ironic that our vision of "freedom" was enough to **** us. Poison. Pills. Little white pills. And a bottle of liquor to wash them down. To drown them.
So together we "escaped" reality's "prison" into the vast expanses of our hallucinations.
One more. Last one. Promise. **** that doubt and replace it with a little white pill.
Take a swig. Take a gulp. Take another. Let's make this crazy.
One more pill. Last one. I swear. Laugh with me. Drink with me.
Laugh with me.
Hey, hey, it will be fine, we're done. We're done. We're done so just relax. Float and fly, feel that high. Lay down and rest.
We should have stopped earlier.
We should have stopped earlier.
You know, we should have stopped earlier.
I am sorry. My bad.

So later comes and goes. She sits on the porch, smoking a cigarette. Smiles, all smiles. She is high, but she operates well.
I light a cigarette of my own.
I breathe in the smoke, let it coat my lungs. Watch it disappear as I exhale. She says something funny, and I laugh. She laughs, I laugh. It's hilarious.
She lives.
She lives.
She lives.
Unfortunately, that is a false reality. I give you the fake version to staunch the bleeding of insecurities and emotional detriment.
You see, I have mislead you. Fake. Fake. So fake, and how I wish it were not.
She never smoked that last cigarette. I guess to her, life was unimportant. Worthless. She was not seeking attention this time. She intentionally overdosed. She convulsed and died in front of me. I watched her swallow white after white and I didn't stop her. Her small framed body of innocence turned into an animal. Neglected, starved of love.
She is dead.
She is dead.
She is dead.
She will never exist beyond my memories. Beyond my dreams. Beyond her phantom visits to my vision. I am being followed. Stalked. Haunted. Chased. Hunted for a guilt trip.
Later, it's blade to flesh. Bottle to lips. Bleeding, regretting, wishing, screaming.
Anger, self pity, despair, depression, descent.
Cornered, frightened, spiraling into madness.
Welcome. It is with great pleasure that I invite you into my life.