Water splashes against the rocks
The sweet dew mist intertwined with the salty spray
The sun sets with its infinite golden locks
A dazzling beauty closing her eyes to the world
The stars playfully peek into the sky
As the I listen to the music of the tide
The sand cradling each of my toes
The smell of life tickling my nose
The sun blinks its final goodbye
As the moon takes its place in the sky
Casting a light of deep ocean blue
On a the souls of the earth renewed
Quick flashes of tails in the sea
Show excitement is brewing under the waves
The final night began in this way

Slowly with strength crawled upon land
Creatures with features never before seen by man
Only half could stand
the others wobbled and toppled again and again
Throughout the beach the life did come
With the start of a whisper the noise begun
Whsssssiiit hisssssssiip gullump tisssslip
Each vibration echod with bliss
Louder and louder the noises grew
The silence evaporated gone to the moon
The earth began to shake
The water began to rise
The universe was called to this spot of a lonely souls demise
For this was my death, this was their goodbye
Curled up on the beach with no one around
Just the creatures of the sea and their music in which I drown
They swarm, they gather, they flock, they gaggle
They're close to me no time for hassle
The last few breaths tease my lungs
As the wind picks me up to the rhythm of the waves
The creatures breath filled with emotions of love
Of the memories of me walking here day after day
Floating towards the sea
To my eternity
No feelings of grief
No sense of regret
I am just one more leaf
On this island shipwrecked

Floating off into the sea
My final thought was one of joy
A smile born as the body dies

Rage through your tears, rage through the pain,
Rage through all things lost, and all to be gained.
Rage through the happiness, rage through the glee,
Rage through the love, and the loss of me.

Cry like you’ve lost your sun, and your moon,
Cry that I was taken, too early, too soon,
Cry and remember the times that we shared,
Cry and be glad that your life was spared.

Scream and call, and bang your fists,
Scream, it’s not fair that it should end like this,
Scream, and cry, and send me your tears,
Scream at the reality of the worst of your fears.

Sleep baby, sleep whilst you’re sad,
Sleep though the times have never been so bad,
Sleep gorgeous darling, and wait for the sun,
Sleep, sleep, for I am gone.

Smile when you’re ready and your tears have dried,
Smile, be happy, even though I have died.
Smile for me and the times we had,
Smile my darling, don’t make me sad.

Remember when we woke at dawn?
Remember walking in the autumn morn?
Remember how it felt to hold my hand?
Remember my darling and understand,

I am lost into the night,
The endless darkness, in endless flight,
I am lost and shall not be found,
In a world of shadows and free of sound.

I’ll call your name but you shan’t hear,
Do one thing, smile for me dear,
Try not to forget me or leave me behind,
Don’t leave me wandering at the edge of your mind.

I’m lonely here, and scared of the ghosts,
All the forgotten souls and despairing hosts,
You’re keeping me here, in this place of woe,
You’re holding on to me, you need to let go.


Let me move on and set my soul free,
For I am always yours, and you belong to me,
Find someone else, it’s time to move on,
Do not feel guilty because now I am gone.

So rage through the news of my death,
And curse the world with every breath,
Cry through my funeral as the coffin’s brought through,
And just think that once I belonged to you.

Scream through the nightmares as you remember I’m dead,
And think of the very last thing that I said,
Sleep through the sadness, the tears and the pain,
And sleep through the thunder, the lightning and rain.

Smile when you wake and I’m not your first thought,
We lived the life that together we sought,
Remember me baby when you walk through the snow,
Baby I loved you, and now, I must go.

My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
The smoking and drinking and snorting and fighting and drinking and crashes and drinking were not good for him.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One summer, when he was 16, everyday he would take a bottle of wine from his mother's liquor cabinet, buy a pack of cigarettes at the corner store, meet up with his friend Mario, who also stole a bottle of wine, and together they would ride down to the river and smoke and drink and swim. Everyday, for a full 1970's summer they did this.
And now he tells me, that at the time they were having fun and they were not worried about money or addictions or the future.
They were just having fun.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One day, in the dead of fall 1981, he and his friends Mario, Mark, ****** and John all got together at Mark's apartment on the corner of 51st and Diablo boulevard. They hit the town, drank, snuck into movie theatres, harassed girls and had a good time. They returned to Mark's apartment at 2 am and thought it a good idea to steal Mark's mom's new car. They decided to go to Reno.
Driving, as my dad put it, well above the speed limit on Highway 49, they collided head on with a big rig. There were no fatalities but my dad broke his shoulder and suffered a minor concussion. Mark's mom chose to not press charges nor did the driver of the big rig. The next day my father was back at work, refusing to adhere to the doctor's orders of taking it easy and wearing a soft cast, entrapping his left arm against his chest, climbing under cars, changing oil, and repairing engines.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.
One cold winter's day, in December of '82, my father's ever faithful companion, Mario, picked my father and his dog, Wimpy, up and they drove over to a small burger joint named Big A's. My father ordered two bacon cheeseburgers and a large rootbeer. Mario got the same, only with a single bacon cheeseburger. My father father gave his second bacon cheeseburger to his pitbull Wimpy.
My father was better to his dog than he was to his own body.
Now, my father coughs himself to sleep every night, and has chronic bronchitis. His liver and kidneys are shot and he plans to not live passed sixty. He will be turning fifty in two weeks.
My father was not good to his body when he was younger.

Dedicated to Bobby Trice, Willem Cole Traupel, and Haley Ristow*

Spilled sodas
and spilled hearts.
Smoked cigarettes
and smoked days.

The snow has ceased falling, and my mood has continued climbing.
What used to be a dark shade of orange, an orange haze,
is now a light, gentle shade of white.
Crisp and clear.

And as I shoveled the drive way,
I thought of the less than extraordinary Sunday
and how extraordinary it was.

And as I looked into my cigarette pack, finding it empty,
I remembered a quote the director of our school play had said
"Do not cry because it's over, smile because it happened"
And I guess it's silly to think of a pack of Organic American Spirits in the same shade of white that others think of a school play.
Maybe it's not so much the cigarettes but the people I shared them with.
The people I love.
My bestfriends.

The first time I skipped a meal, I spent the night with a gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach.
The first time I cut myself, I threw up at the sight of my own blood.
The first time I made myself sick, I cried.

The first time is always the hardest, but it only gets easier after that.

Years down the road now,
I can see the beauty in what I've done.
The breath-taking wonder found in decay.

Tonight I sit on the pavement
outside my apartment.
My fingers curl around the
rusted chain-link fence.
Sharp edges of broken wire
left cuts not nearly deep enough
on my arms when I squeezed
through the hole next to me.

I don't live anymore than the metal at my back.
Just like the fence I am merely existing.

Months from now,
my kidneys will run
the risk of failing.

Already my teeth are
stained and eroded from
stomach acid.

My bones knock against
one another from shivering,
and the pavement underneatth
me chews at my tailbone.

When someone asks for a picture of me,
I give them the grainy photograph of the hole in the fence.
Just like it I am rusting. Breaking down piece by piece.

There is beauty in dying. In the natural course of slow decay.

When doctors ask me
why I did this to myself,
I will show them the scars
on my stomach.
I'll show them my
barren womb and
protruding rib bones.

I'll tell them that in trying to be perfect, I found what we're all really looking for.

I discovered that we're
born to die, and that
the beauty of life is
our slow descent into
the darkness of death.

I can feel it.
Falling into old habits.

I don't know how to feel.
I can actually feel the depression.
I can feel the self hate and the angst.
I can feel it all coming back.
And it scares the hell out of me.
I might just as soon be in hell
than be here.
than be me.

I once heard that "One perfect night's not enough"
and it's really ******* coming true.
It will never be enough
I will never be enough
this will never be enough.

I can feel it.
I can feel the depression pooling behind my eyeballs.
Maybe a bottle of brandy will chase it away.
Or maybe a few pills will cover it up.
Or maybe it will stay there forever
until mixed with a pool of blood
it seeps through the floorboards.

They say stress can cause headaches
and nausea
and cramps
and they say that stress can lower your bodies ability to fight infection and viruses.

But I'm here to tell you that it's not stress that causes those things for me.
Stress is partly to blame.
It's a combination of stress and lack of cigarettes
and alcohol
and laughs
and love
and they say that too much of anything is a bad thing but I'm here to tell you that not enough of some things can be just as bad.

A lack of water can cause headaches
just as a lack of cigarettes will.
A lack of sleep can cause stress
just as a lack of cigarettes will.
A lack of purpose can cause depression
but a lack of cigarettes will not.