Do I even want to participate in life anymore? I contemplate, not killing myself, but disappearing. I swear I could summon something to come into my life and just take over my soul. Ok, not really. . .I just have no clue what to write about anymore. And, man, I gotta tell ya, as a writer (and I know that’s a lot of commas), this is like the lowest of low. To write is my only job. It’s supposed to be my passion. And, to see that I’m too drugged out and not educated enough to have a steady flow of intelligent ideas to share with the world to make it better for the next generations, it just hurts my soul. But not really, cause I’m high. I can’t really tell or feel that I’m in pain until I’m off the drugs and out of money. My two highs. Drugs and money. What happened to the guy who wanted to achieve a happy and content life without those things as a necessity. . .? Where’d he go? The real Hippie Steve. You wanna claim to be this peaceful and cool guy who thinks logically and morally yet intelligently. Yet, you still fall into the same habits as those around you that you complain about on a daily basis. You are no better than the next guy. And, though you already know this, you do not act like it. It’s ridiculous just how neglectful you’ve been to your own health. Mental and physical. For what? For the high to keep going? What kind of a high is it? Tell yourself, tell me, what is it that you are working towards? What is it that you’re close to achieving? What is it that you are on track to finish? Besides a slow and ingratiating death, what else have you promised for yourself in this life? NOT A **** THING! And that needs to change! Stop talking about it. Take some writing courses online and do some writing exercises. Think outside the box. Create the app. Create a portfolio for freelance writing. Create your own ****!!! So you can work on your own and hire people and invest and all that fancy ****. Just go do it.

unparalleled level of questioning.
skeptical devil deceptively
deviating from the ******,
the spectrum of fools.
'tis destiny's rule
to seek answers
to questions
for lessons
and tools.

step one is think but not too much,
think only enough to move the body,
think only enough to guide
but not too much.
allow the mind
the time to find
itself before you
let it take control of you

step two is think but not too much,
think only enough to still the being,
think only enough to still the urge
but not too much.
allow the body
the freedom
to fall
in forms
it feels
but don't forget
to feel your way

step three is here
you must instill
in order to heal
you must adhere
in order to hear
you must not chase the thrill of rush
but long for sakes of betterment.
what is concealed will slowly reveal,
just follow the steps until
it's time to breathe . . .

step four is breathe,
and breathe as deeply
as the atmosphere allows
and let the astral air
assemble your arousal . . .

“at this pizza place, all they got is cheese with no crust, a little bit of rust mixed in from every bolt and every nut, at every table is a **** that’s ready to . . .”

grow up . . .

“serving hard knocks with a side of familiarity opens up a path for the freaks, or something like that . . .”

throw up . . .
spill guts at tables, overstuffed, not able to feed themselves, unstable, and to the stables they wander . . .
must be food time again . . .

“whatever fills me up with what I lack is what I’ll indulge in, praising him/her to stay above ‘sin’, o’ here I go again . . .”

throw up . . .
spill guts at tables, overstuffed, not able to feed themselves, unstable, and wandering . . . and wandering . . . unable to stop and . . .
grow up . . .
serving hard knocks with a side of familiarity opens up a path for the damaged, or something like that . . .

I really shouldn’t talk, while I’m eating