cures range from ice packs to an anti-inflammatory diet
to a blunt to a long walk with a dog
to a fifth of JD to writing sonnets or listening
to some badass Miles Davis blues and
work has its way of lessening the impacts
of those tendernitis
symptons that include
pounding hearts
intense sweating
headaches
dizziness
frequent urination (my **** Dog has this)
work hard physical labor
lifting 100 50 lb bags of mortar off the backass of a van
then 50 boxes of porcelain
has a way of making one's back
make one's head too tired to fret
and ignore the dog **** in the corner
and just come  in and
grab a beer light a blunt, sniff a line, snort
shoot up, whatever your pleasure,
just pat her head and let her jump all over you
(***** *** feet she has)
and sit on the couch
sipping --pause the world revolving for a minute--
getting tender is for painters
******* it
painters drink wine

im used to
being left
behind.

When most humans are truly and utterly scared
they don't give a **** about anyone else.
They just blame everyone but themselves.
In most cases someone else is wrong, the humanity,
the society, the world around them.
What kind of world do we live in?
I don't know the answer, i never did.
I just believed in virtues, to people i love,
to wondering souls with a thorn in their heart.

I was raised by a mentally ill father.
Because there is comfort in numbers,
I, too, was afflicted by a similar disorder.
It’s difficult to separate the person from the sickness,
Sometimes impossible.
Sometimes we become the shadowy monster,
Embrace it with wilted roses,
Knowing too well that of everything else,
The disorder will still be there,
Waiting.
My shadow has been dormant.
My father’s is still active,
Seeking.
Sometimes when we meet it’s like a perfect storm,
A tornado of comfort.
Someone understands the climate.
I take my father’s hand encouragingly,
He turns to run, squirrely,
The shadow greets me with open arms.
I love the shadow as much as I love the man.
After all, there is comfort in numbers.

where are those words inside my mind so hidden
urgent and sublime
those words I had so fervent heard had memorized
just an hour prior
and where  by chance did I put my keys
I had them here just a minute ago
who is this person in the mirror
I can't recall that drooping face
what might have happened near or scene
in the last ten years I been sleeping
here just watching MTV

Found out recently
that I'm no longer afraid
of dying; I fear
most mere survival until
I've used up all of my days.

Take the pieces of who I am or what I was. Then dissect each and every one. Look through my soul and find my emotions. Pull on my heart strings until they fray. Look at my memories and go through them with a fine tooth comb. This is how I feel since your leaving is pulling me apart.