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Ethan Deal Oct 2017
"What do you think love is?" She asked him. He thought for a moment as he stared at the old wooden clock on the wall and tried to slow his mind, to sync in time with every one of its tics. "Love is a man's favorite cigarette." He said with indisputable certainty, "Not the one that he occasionally bums off a friend, when he needs a little variety, but the one he walks in the corner store every day and buys without compromise. It's the one that everyone knows is his, because his taste for it is never fickled." She was vexed. "So you believe love is an addiction?" She asked with a hint of disappointment. "No," he replied without hesitation, "I believe love is allowing someone to be close enough to consume your breath, close enough to **** you, and in the end, never doubting whether or not it was all worth it."
Ethan Deal May 2017
He blew the dwindling years off an old dusty yearbook. Nastalgia hit him with a fierce blow to the gut. Flipping through the crisp pages, he lemented those that he once loved and loathed. Now and then, he'd pause and tap his finger on a vaguely familiar face, whispering, "I forgot they even existed." His gaze was met by an old stereo that seemed to be staring into his psyche, ravaging through painful memories. For a moment, he winced. He thought back to the countless nights he spent with that stereo turned on full blast to muffle the screams and slamming doors. This was usually followed by eerie silence when Mom would cry herself to sleep and Dad would set a wind driven course to the local watering hole. He was the product of a time. A time when no man could feel unwanted as long as he gave the people what they wanted on social media and other platforms, a time when music was meant to distract rather than inform, when we could only hope the right wing party didn't squash abortion before the socialists ran out of room to put drab apartments. Yes, he was a product, indeed. Everyone was in those days. They were marketed at the price of freedom and sold for less than a dime.
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
Time hunts us down like dogs
Haunts our every move until the day we rest
Giants tower
And stomp on our dreams
Werewolves prowl
Men they are
Children of the Morning Star
Fueled by greed and lust
And daily routines
Beasts they are
Companions of the Lunar God
They stalk their prey by the pale light of that which created them
Their true colors shown
When Apollo drags the great star into the shadows
It has been this way for eons and will be for eons to come
Nothing more than another day to breathe
Careful now,
This next meal could be your last
Time is never on your side
It is, however,
Always at your back
Holding hands with Death
They watch your every move
And collaborate on which one will take you today
So get drunk on spirits of nature
Get tattoos of time devices, skulls and omens of death
To remind you of the interchangeable nature and niches of life and death, time and dead silence, love and loss
Nothing lives forever but an idea
So think
So feel
Share every thought
Don't hold back for fear of persecution
For this is the only way you will live for eternity
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
Fell asleep in Y2K
And woke up with a full time job and a monkey on my back
Wearing a worn out pair of Chucks
They tell me I was born today,
But I don't feel alive
Living too far ahead
Inside my head
Just another way to survive
Just another day
Just another day
Tell me are the good times really over?
Tell me where did the child go
In the mirror yesterday
Two decades
Of mental anguish
Collecting memories
Getting by on another stanza, another story, another song
Tell me where does time go
When it's far behind us?
Does it just live in our minds
Or stay right where we left it
Where recollections roam free
Where they stand still
Where they never fade
Tell me what to do
With all the time I've made
I feed off the passion
I starve on my weakness
Did you see me today
When I was all alone
Amongst a crowd
Leave it to the lonely
With a beautiful girl standing there
And all you can do is stare
Destiny is a fickled *****
When it comes too late
Or too early
Who the hell knows?
We're all misfits in the end
Me, I choose to keep the outcast crowd
The ones who threw away their crown
To live a life of poverty
A life of sin
This is about to die
Which makes me want to cry
As I let out a little longer sigh than the one before
Another burden
Another sore
Another bottle
Another bore
All in all
It's just another brick in the wall
Waiting on the ivory tower to fall
Waiting on a friend to call
Feeling like a bouncing ball
Up down up down
A roller coaster ride
Do you know how I feel?
I love you
I hate you
Don't leave me
Don't deceive me
Did you conceive me
Do you believe me
Why won't you just save me?
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
Are the medications working?
Do you need an adjustment?
These will do the trick
Just trust me

What are you doing to stay sober
Now that you and your love are over
Do you need another prescription?
A fix for your addiction?

Are you suicidal?
Tell me about these nightmares
Why do you think no one cares
Why do you think that makes you scared?
Just be mindful and aware

You just have to have patience
My dear patient
Tune into your medication
And tune out all this condemnation
How does that make you feel?
Yes, your feelings are valid
Yes, the world is real

Don't you worry about your old man
He doesn't know what he can't understand
Just know he's your biggest fan
And he hates to see you this way
He just doesn't know what to stay

Has it been an hour already?
You know my fee is flat and steady
It's been a great session
I hope you learned a lesson
Let's say next week around seven?
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
I slept through the seasons changing
My alarm went off
At Summer's end
To let me know all my dreams had faded
I woke up at a job site
With a paintbrush in my hand
I don't know how I got this gig
All I know is that high school is over
And I didn't even walk
No cap and gown
As I'm sinking down
****** into another ******
Thinking that girl really mattered
Now I've realized I'm two years older
Than I was yesterday
What is your philosophy on time?
Do you think it's too late to pray?
The drink is dry
The water's wet
And too cold to jump in
There's no way I'll take that chance
Just to wash away my sins
Laughter on demand
Sadness by free will
I'm in a cage with an unlocked door
Waiting for someone to set me free
The therapy sessions go well
Though, I wish I had them every day
My personal genie
To grant all my wishes
My perfect lover
To count all my kisses
I guess I should get off my ***
And go find what I'm looking for
If only I knew what that was
Instead I sit here alone
In a sea of sulking
And say "**** it" just because
Drink another drop
But the pain never stops
And you can't raise the dead
Unless you're raised by the dead
In that case,
Go ahead
Sweet dreams and off to bed
With a back full of lead
I didn't hear a word you said
Your words drowned out
With a shotgun blast
And little time to think
Oh, what I would do,
If I could put my heart into ink
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
I left it all behind me. I left my fear, my comfort and the blood from my recently slashed wrists. The drugs weren't working anymore, the cutting didn't transfer the pain. There was no pain. She wasn't gone. I couldn't accept it. The pills couldn't take her away, nor the bus she rode off in. She was forever in my mind. What could I do? Numb, bold and black hearted, I marched into the darkness of the interstate with the glow of headlights whipping by me. No doubt this was a dangerous and compulsive expedition, but I had no fear. Wanderlust suffocated my insecurities, adventure filled my belly. There was no need for food or sleep. The only need I had was to put mile markers between me and everything I left behind. These bags were getting heavy though. As a first time hitch hiker, no one advised me to pack light. It wasn't long before luck found me in the form of a tanker truck, pulled over with its hazard lights on. They must be stopping for me! I ran with my heavy load, careful not to miss what could be my only ride. I open the cab door to find an older gentleman, typical trucker. He wore a ***** old t shirt and trucker style cap, long white hair, a few tattoos of the chain gang variety. He clearly had some stories to tell. He had a welcoming, but slightly impatient tone, "I figured you'd come up here if you wanted a ride. I just stopped to make a phone call." He didn't stop to make a phone call. I gestured toward the loaded hash pipe in the ashtray, "You smoke ****, man?" His reply amused me, "Naw man, that's my medication. Go ahead and take a hit if you want." I took a long needed **** and exhaled relief. I tried passing it, but he insisted, "Go on, take you another hit boy. Get your head right. We got a long ride ahead." I graciously took my share. He took his, and we were on our way. We talked women, ****, current events, troubles, travels and adventures. I made sure to ask questions. Knowledge is like a currency to me, and I knew this old man had been around a good bit. I noticed his cigarettes. Pall Mall Reds. A man after my own heart. I told him we were kindred spirits and babbled some high induced nonsense about signs from the universe and how we were meant to take this journey together. His name was Kenny. Of course his name was Kenny.
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