Insight
is what
makes
my
thoughts
Unique.

It takes the obvious things like happiness a career,the trust they had in you and the hopes you had for yourself .

Then the girl and in time several girls all of whom tried to live with your madness.

Then you crash the car, lose the house and end up hiding from the world in cheap multi unit apartment building.
And you never answer the door or the telephone unless it's your guy calling to bring you more.

Less light and more fire.
Everything looks less depressing by candle light.
The AC broke down a year ago.
Open windows keep the air free from anxiety.

Your loved ones become bitter at the thought of you while your friends , the real ones now act as if those memories you shared and those fights you fought were all just in passing.
The friendship is no longer there.

Sunshine and social settings are two things
you do all you can to avoid.

Cops know you by your name and street people now call you 'Brother' even though you have a home.

Somewhere in those years your *** life had died and no one ever bothered inviting you to the funeral.
You know it's the Devil when it causes you to forget about having something you spent years lusting over and partaking in at every given chance with just about any given girl .  

The poppy I speak of only with respect.
The Dragon and the chasing has almost ran its course.
The lazy Monkey and my aching spine.
The Fentanyl and the Suboxone.
The crying jail cell walls and the ***** on the floor.
The scars and the death of another .
The years all wasted and the girl who no longer thinks of you .

It took all I had I have nothing left to give.

I make it a point to never plan on it.
I don't designate a time or a place for it.
I don't schedule my days around it.

I don't wish to sound smug when I say
I try to put the least bit of effort into it.
I don't allow it to bother me when the words don't come.
I don't think about those lost thoughts or that unused line that looked so good on paper. Yet somehow it still made its way into the garbage along with the dinner I couldn't eat, the dishes she broke and the beers I already drank.

To me it is all meant for paper.
The thoughts that rob me of my sleep.
The memories that keep me from ever being truly happy.
The damage I've kept hidden for so long now I often forget why it is the tears come when they do.

Bukowski had a Bluebird and wrote about it only once.
Dante looked to Virgil and mentioned him by name.

You can not force a miracle nor could you guarantee a masterpiece.
I'm alone with this, scared half to death about losing this.

I don't force it to come.
Though I do recognize the Muse when it makes its self known
and appears to me on paper.

Can't stand against the ageless winds while shedding sour tears now  amber from the ******.

The Locols were the only ones who ever parked cliffside off the highway and always ignored the signs.

You can't withhold anything the ocean wants.
What the Pacific always wants the Pacific always takes .

The rich have dug in without saying a word.
The generals and the enginers know there's no where for us to go.

Its all happend before, nothing ever new is something never known .
There's giants laying dead along our oceans floor.

It'll be the waters that bring about our end .

The bare bulbed cell lights broke through
the bars along the top floor of the old city hall.

My dreams locked in a battle with my memories
all the while it was the Poppy who kept me strong.

They cut their blocks with water and magic
the way the Mayans and the Templars once did.

Your likeness set in bronze
sit's ageless in the concrete.

Sirens yell in another part of the city
as your worries are left struggling
long after you've moved on.

There's not enough damage here,
come back and see me once she's gone.

I did'nt leave the pistol for too long and
I did'nt lie to her when I told her it was'nt enough.

Kept my word and spent my riches.
God knows I would'nt have it any other way.

Spend my final days puffing on forgetfullness.
I found my salvation in an ***** den.

I promised her I'd come back one day.

Not even 90 days in
and the idiot bombs Syria.


Opinions and belifes
don't mean ****.


Prophecy is all
that matters now.

I'm too paranoid for *******,
not social enough for alchohol.

Speed's not for me,
you gotta give up your dreams.
And I look forward to sleep.

I disliked **** once they
made it legal.
I can't mess with the pills
unless they're the happy ones
and a girl is involved.

I thought about my first
love, my first addiction.
There's no way I can say
I'll never do ****** again.

I'm not too sure about much
but I can say this for sure.
"Maybe one day my dear
but I can't go back to you today".