I opened
the door and cringed at my own actions.
The day was bright and most would
describe it as beautiful.

I **** the beauty of the day
with my dark sunglasses and
step out like a nocturnal little beast
being forced from the comfort of his burrow.

I see Poe's Ravens atop a stuccoed
apartment building all screaming
their curses into the wind.
Mad squirrels dashing across
live power lines as worried pigeons
cooed their concern.

Cars pass and all I can smell
is cheap laundry detergent  
dog **** and fuel beneath it
all the tickling scent of the salted sea.

A girl leaned against a wall
staring at her bitten down nails.
Her mismatched clothing and dyed close
cropped hair almost blended in with the graffiti .
I passed and I think she called me
lover .

The tall proud palms looked down upon
me as I avoided the cracks in the sidewalk.
I tried my hardest not to turn around and flee
back into the safety of my darkened room.

There's a group of daytime drinkers
angrily smoking outside the bar.
I instinctively reach deep into
my pocket and caress the buck knife
as I pass through the drifting
tobacco smoke .

One guy spits and another guy
toes the sidewalk with the tip
of his work boot.

I concentrate on their actions .
I don't care about their faces .

I'm just trying to move through the world like dust.
Hitching a free ride on the winds produced
by the passing cars and the passing memories.

I curse myself for fooling myself into trusting another day.
for I've learned that only the night forgives .
Only by the light of the not so distant
stars and not so distant moon
does this world truly appear inviting.

Could it be we've
all been trained
with bells?

Or is it the symbols.
The Thirty three's
and hand gestures.
The tridents and the
five pointed stars.
The eight
sided pentagons
and the eye
that's always
watching.

Is it that we've
all been fooled?

Could it be the Son
is nothing more
than the Sun of
the morning?

The rich kids never read
Bukowski.
The poor kids all read the
same dog eared copy of
"Women".

The Animal Control guy tries to feel
Nietzsche while parked within
the shade of a drooping
Eucalyptus.
While his frightened captives
**** in their pins and wait on death.

She gave me my first copy
of Kerouac and made sure she
took it back when she
packed her things and left
for good .

I found Dante half dead
and forgotten in a prison cell.
His Inferno had been stripped of its
jacket and was scarred with graffiti.

I read passed the torn
and missing pages
and when I was done.
I went back and walked
through that
Cold and Confusing Hell
with Dante as my guide.

Over and Over again.

This is What I Do.

What I do brings
immortality.

The Words will
always outlast
the Labor.

It came around again
for we are at the center
of our everything.
And the center never
moves.

From between jagged
ancient mountain tops
it's appearance came to be.

Made its way
across a deadly
California desert.
Over a  mysterious,
***** blondes bare
freckled shoulder.

Through the track homes
and the cheap motels.
Between  a beautiful ******
open legs and runny nylons.

Past the clerk asleep in the  hotel lobby.
Past the stolen car
outside.
Across the cluttered
room and
across a dark alley way

Up the main street
of some nowhere type of town.
Across the freeway and the blood stain.
Past the curbside motive candles.

Above the glass like surface
of the morning  dead calm sea.
Through the fisherman's hopeful heart.
And the starlets dying flame.

Over the pages of my
favorite book,
my favorite line.
"Run to me, Come to me'


Through my
half empty ***** bottle
then bounced its way off the cracked
goodluck mirror  and  caught
me straight in
the eye.

Another day had arrived
and with it
the blinding ray.

The first sign
that you've made it
to waste another beautiful
Southern California
day.

I could make out familiar shapes in the darkened single room apartment.
A thin bar of flashing neon red came in through the minor separation in the resin stained curtains.
I secured the door with the cheap throw latch and the thin chain.
She heard the click then spoke from deep within the darkness.
"Is it locked?"she asked, even though she knew it was.
"Yea" I answered knowing that she needed to hear me say it in order to calm the  madness in her head.
I switched on a shadeless lamp as she nodded her head and mumbled something to the demons who lived inside of her.
She sat cross legged on the neatly made bed  picking bits of  lint off the folded pink comforter while humming a song I had never heard.
I looked her over before she had a chance to turn the lights back out like she always did.
Her bangs hung over her deep pocket eyes and her nails had all been bitten down to the flesh.
It looked like she had dyed the tips of her hair a greenish blue color.
She had one of my old Black Flag T-shirts on and baggy black sweat pants. Her light brown almost amber eyes were blood shot.
  Her blinks were slow almost robotic and she had a fresh light scratch across her chin.
She looked good compared to the last time I had seen her.
  I moved carefully across the room toward the tiny kitchen and switched on  the light.
The single bare bulb flickered itself to life as the cockroaches all fled and vanished like magic.  
  I heard her move from the bed to the door as she checked the lock.
Then click off the lamp before her hurried footsteps took her back toward the safety of her bed.
  I left the honey bun and the beef jerky on the counter where I knew she'd find it later on when she was hungry. I stopped and took a Tupperware bowl from the cupboard and placed it over the snacks to keep the roaches away.
  She had  stopped eating in front of me over a year ago.
Right around the time she made me move out.
  I found some ice cubes in her empty freezer and came back out carrying the ***** and a plastic cup.
I topped off the cup and took a moment to let the ice melt.
I swirled the cup in a clockwise motion and tried not to stare at her.
I took a swig  before handing it to her.
She took the cup in both hands without ever looking up.
She slurped her drink and released a tiny gasp as the fire burned down into her gut.
  I sat down  on the edge of the bed and waited for her to come around  like I always did.
I  leaned in toward the 13' black and white TV she never  watched and turned it on.
The television  played only static    I noticed there was no cable or rabbit Ears attached to it then wondered if there ever had been.
  I flipped through the static covered channels until  she said
"Leave it there". So I did.
  I leaned back on my elbows  and felt her hand rest on my shoulder.
I carefully placed my own hand on top of hers, she almost pulled away as I did so.
But something deep beneath  the madness that had taken her away from me stopped her. She gently stroked my hand with her thumb.
I couldn't help but grip hers a little tighter all in hopes of maybe in some way bringing her back from that child like state she had fallen into almost 2 years ago now.
There we sat almost  holding hands like the way we used to do.
Both of us staring at the static littered TV screen.  
All was silent all except for that sound of her humming that song I couldn't recognize and the static from the television she never watched.
The static that filled the air with that timeless white noise of confusion.

The blackboard had been wiped clean
of all the equations and answers.
All but one question remained.
"Why Are You Here?"

My first thought was
I'm here to try and
keep myself out of
there.

I'm here to bring
attention to
the broken hearts,
the alcoholic writers
and the dreams we
never share.

I'm here to show my face
and prove to them that
I am  everything  they
could not  ****.

I'm here to read the works
the mad men left
behind.
I'm here for the ******,
the ***** and the one
night stands.

I'm here to fall in love
and fall out of favor.

I'm here to use as much
as I can without dying.

I'm here to break their laws
and  to expose all those who claim
to understand this vision.

I'm here to **** them off and
provide them with  reasons
to speak thy name in vain.

I'm here to steal from
the rich and keep it.

I'm here to write it
all down without
losing my mind or my life.

I'm here to avoid the crowds
and admire the
empty city streets at midnight.

I'm here to burn the red candles and
fear not the coming age.

I'm here for what lays beyond
the ice.
Here to share the
secrets they  all **** to keep.

I'm here to give thanks to
La Muerte, Little Martha
and The Skinny girl.

I'm here for the girls who
sing alone and shiver at the memories
of growing up  in a broken home.

I'm here to write something that the
Convicts and the Delinquents could
both relate to.

I'm here for that Raven haired
girl with the perfect bangs and
sculpted brows.
The girl who smiled her Blood red lips
and called me Dangerous.

I'm here to write about the Hummingbird,
the lonely Writer  and the habit that
killed a certain girls everything.

I'm here to laugh as they
all cry.
Here to cheer over their hissing sounds.
Here to celebrate at their time of mourning.

I'm here to be as far apart
from all of you as I can.

I'm here for the invitation
that I never received.

I'm here to take the
blame and provide an escape.

Here to prove her right when
she was oh so wrong.

I'm here to act as if I didn't know.
Here to play with the
guilt that plagues them in their sleep.

Here for the Latch key kids
and unwanted dogs.

I'm here for DMT ,the LSD
and the secrets they both
hold but never tell.

I'm here even though
most times I wish I  wasn't.

I'm here all alone
although it
wasn't always this way.

I'm here to try and put these
words in their place.

Here to keep their spirits
up while trying to keep
my own from dying.

Here to fill the pages the young
will read tomorrow.

Here to share what it is I do
without exposing my true sorrows.

I'm here to finish what they  
started without mimicking their style.

I'm here to keep them
on their toes while
concentrating on tomorrow.

I'm here to remove the  Globe
from all curriculum's.

Here to put an ending to
all of the foolish lies.

I'm here to answer your questions
as honestly I can.

I'm here today but can be gone
tomorrow.

I don't know what we're all
doing here,
I can only speak
for me.