Its more than a feeling when its come down to the finish and even a worse one when you realize its time to start yet again.
Like some sick version of twisted game show your always in reach and anytime your desperate the ****
will gather to praise your failure.
The bottle filled glory days a dinosaur who's back id long fell of of trying to stay in the groove simply has left me with more scratches than  I care to speak of so **** the logic in this I preffer a good ******* covred lie instead.

Hell wasnt a fire laced horror theme it was a emptyness beyond anything a normal man could ever imagine.
Good thing I would never fall under that title.

We were somewhere in Maryland the bar a afterthought now and are drunken thoughts had left us silent to
ramble in are own personal hells we tried to convince others didnt exist.
As for the big payoff well .
If half empty shows and being more broke than when you left was a sucess then we were true diamonds at this point.
You give it all out there only to question do you have a home to return to.
And Martin was a wounded solider broken from a quick text once read.
Ive had enough I wont be here when you return.

And as he was broken we did what any self absorbed ******* who couldnt face what could be us would do.
Drown in vices and cracked jokes over are friends misfortune and tried to make sure we didnt get to much of his misery to
**** are buzz.

For me it was the usal some quick drinks some soon to be forgotten conversations with women I'd seldom
recall gotta keep chasing that good time cant let the boys see your reallity or you'd fall and
never do you wanna show weakness in a pack of wolves .

Robert was always the same a crash and burn ****** who started fights and had to be half loaded to even greet the day.
Once I saw the geinus behind what had now became the running joke of the group.
The tide had long since returned to the ocean  and left him trapped apon the shore.

We all knew he was a dead end street but he paid his way and as long as we could scam a few bills from him
we used him without regard it was the worst kind of cutthroat you could imagine.
All in the name of a good laugh.

Being said that only left me and Tony to keep this **** togather we rode long hours and made little money but just like sharks if were still moving with some drugs in are system were still doing good.


My head against the window rains steady rythm kept me company  in this silence I could allow the ******* guard down.
Count the laughs and ignore the bombs  **** it was a bloodthirsty scene in south Boston lastnight.
The crowd intent on breaking you and getting down watred down drinks overprized and as shallow as there
owners for the moment.

Why the **** was I here stuck in a prison with four wheels rolling steady and praying not to get pulled
by the cops and wondering if anyone of us could lie well enough to be trusted to drive **** knows
the best driver had just been hitting the pipe a hour ago.
And I really didnt think my flask in side pocket would be a charming insentive to some officer who hated dealing with a
car filled with drunks and junkies.

So what you boys do?
I could hear this converstaion playing out.
Were comedians  just heading home officer been on the road awhile.
Oh yeah you boys any good?
Well as you can tell from this fantastic 1999 minvan crap mobile were driving  were  a great sucess.
You being a ******* boy?

Some people never get the joke.

The miles passed and soon were bound for are corners.
Off from the battle left only to crawl in
broken down hovels and lick are wounds with whatever drugs we may have left laying around.
And as for me I'd just turn off the lights and sleep.

In the dark nobody touches my often semi burnt out thoughts.

And as the days bled one into the next I'd  tell myself ***** it Im done!.
But bad habbits and that insane thought of what if is a real ******* at times.
And really what else besides the page could ever bring me the misery and false happiness I so desired.

Soon like some worn out race horse id be at the starting gate again I could only run till I drop.
Why do it you may ask?
Cause its just who I am the crowds a drug like any other and that one night of connection
is more of a rush than any needle to arm has ever been.

The finish line never means **** when you know inside.
All that leaves you with is another time to begin.

Its always in goodbye we taste what is the essense of that scar called love.
Pain in nature and no words can capture remorse as well as a milepost in a reaview of thought.
It was there we togather once called home now like a tombstone it stands a marker of what was never to be.

Fracture of heart and bitterness my seal.
Im the leftovers of another we can cleanse this logic or simply say ***** it all and regress.
Forever a lie to the young and a curse to the old.
Has it burned this earth and killed me to all that dare to know
what I could never explain.?  

A dance of years now a thought no drug has yet to erase.
Pills aside your drug was the best poisen ive known even with another I
know paradise was a cancer ive long since left behind yet a simple moment can make me slide
into a vice that will see me fall for the last time till next.

Im the clown that circus left behind.
Now a skeleton for home I  ask why leaving takes a milestone and emptyness a downpour
as my desert has long stayed dry.

Read the riddle like a oinion pealed only more layers remain.
hell has welcome thought for ive found more toture here.
Voices haunt my thoughts as emptyness thrives inmy existance.
Its has misreble as when we knew each others love please drown so I can
breath life into this wornout frame one last time.

Winter's chill reminds me of what we never had yet again.
People often question what has no meaning to begin with.
As for me I avoid its poisen a scared child hidden in shadow of a
lesser man.

Nothing stands as a reminder of pages wasted in promise of a day that never came.
Sometimes I view that place were we were more than a bad memory and a traggic vice.
Sometimes I yern only for end to what has never been allowed to begin.

The worst prison of all is the mind.

I belive it was in a rest stop outside of Nashville when I first discovred just what lost truely

was.

The people moved ants to a hive.

Ghost's to the shell so to speak.



Looking up routes streching worn stiff leg's and existing in personal bubbles.

Affraid a seconds conversation would burst a moments ******* cast

existance.



But I only sat watching happy to be a viewer to many seperate acts in a bound for nowhere

play.



Hey you have the time?

I dont even have a watch.

I replyed to some lost south bound kid more ******* up looking

than myself.

He said nothing more as he simply  faded into the herd.



They were all bound for somewhere  and me I was just killing time.

My home was wherever I could catch a few hours sleep.

And hopefully I'd be outta this state befor long.



I was a nomad most called me a ***.

A traveler of fate and a lazy ******* to caught up in my own personal gains to settle down.



The voices of reason would seem to echo through strangers.

Whenever I'd take time to speak like some twisted record player

they'd always repeat.



So where you heading?

Nowhere and hopefully it has  a bar.



Why you on the road?

Well really I just decided to take a walk one day.



Where from?

North Carolina.

Wow why you in Texas.

It's a long walk.



Man your weird!.

Arent we all in some way?



And with that the conversation would fade into my beloved silence.

And I would view the highway and it's ever changing landscape.



The mountian  sunset's ,the desert  in the moolight ,

A city slum to a rest stop outside of Nashville where you find me now.



I'd seen Americas watercolors and her sharp edges and still charming sleeze.

And from a shared ride to a cold park bench.

I was embracing the forbidden fruit spoken of by

far better  fools and writers than me.



For true freedom was seldom safe.

But I viewed this world a travller a stranger to all including myself.



And from strange looks to even more bizzar remarks from  thoose who couldnt fathom

someone existing with no true purpose.



The question always was asked

from so many forgetable faces.



So where are you going?

Im just taking a long walk home.

So many truths do embrace a gentle teasing lie.
Im far worse than you may invision a monster of rampage and gentle nightmares poetic reprize.
Do you ever wonder fact from fiction or simply never care just as long as it so does entertain.

Bleed the well to starve the creative fire will it ever make sense again?
She 's always a muse but seldom a creative force my words my own share the glory and you'll
lose sight of the shore.

To many drink's and lost night's lets cast them aside once more in a one night stand passion
Let us never cross paths again.
You'll only see me in shadow so take the best and try to never recall what was left befor sunset called it a night.

Broken dreams gather to make a soul bitter and this **** I just cant stop.
Please understand it's never been a choice dear heart.
A hotshot  taken in vice and a final fix.

We never cast the stones we belive will be returned.
A dance will cost you more than you could ever understand.
And once to I saw the forrest for it's tree's now I simply cast blind regards to
thoose I cant truely recall.

They pass me by as so should you.
Sweetheart will a moment cast a delusion I cant be?
Old times were the hell are you now?

So gather your thoughts call me the fool for refusing to care.
Soon I will erase it just the same final round join me toast nothing and old friends
no longer here.

Soon I will carve that place eternal as a nights velvet harsh as dreams that once
I belived were mine.
Sunsets always hold the pain as nights hold my heart.

Forever doesnt seem all that long to me.

Take from it what you will.

Sunsets cast my vision seldom have you seemed more than I can describe.
Moonlit memories are great dellusion for we bask in idle tides time often changes view.

A clocks steady rythm counts my empty hours pace.
Rain tonight will you wash it clean yet one last time?
Old friends and new bottels cast the tide to carry all away but me.

It was passion now its more like regret.
Even demoms have to sleep sometime so when shall I?
Night clubs tight skirts paint the picture i'd raher make the scene than write the finish.
Traps often lure with the sweetest perfume.

Maybe I choose it all wrong accept you.
A jazz bands logic in a semi broken soul.
Will we ever connect for my own sake?
It's taken me so far no longer can view the shore have i finally drifted to far?

They share my company but never my soul Im just counting the hours sweetheart till
its my turn to bid farewell.

But roads lead to many ways.
But I have to question will they lead you my way again.
Old fools were once young dreamers can you still hear me through the haze ive grown to call my voice?
The song always brings me back.
But my aim was seldom true.

Someday seems like sometime i'll never drift by again.
So I'll wait as always in this scene im to screwd up to escape.
Sweetest kiss fire never dies.
But passions are but a glimmer of the emptyness ive grown
to call myself.

Times a dream from which I choose not to wake.
I'll always be around my dear.
In one half out of it form or another.

The darkness can embrace the page a silk sheet of verbal perfection .
Empty streets and   bars cast shadows that cling in mind like some ship long sailed from port.
Why must they see the end and never fight it's truth ?

We find so little compassion a snow storms emotion has left this summer night
vacant as the motels sign.
Drift for a second with me and i'll show you nothing but flawed perfection in return.

Cats in the garbage winos hold court in the parks distant to the .
The child never should know.
Poets speak in smoke filled rooms of nothing more than a broken souls frustration and second
avenue's  false shine a glass charm and a freakshow diamond the ***** a true friend in
times all to often I need.

Whats your sport the streetwalker asks me in such a pure jaded sense.
wash me  pilot hands are clean but thoughts seem to stain walls of the union mission
I love its true sense of decay .

Jack are you still on the road or just lost in big Sur?
Bob can they ever decode the message or just set free in the paint you cast as words?
Poets fools profits and second street saints I feel comfort in madness  for
sanity's annoying plea just takes up my time.

Are we nothing more than junkies?
Slave to page and the veiw's no matter how blind they may be.
A  drunkard  , A clown, And a welcome stranger in many a lost souls view.
Charles I can understand your humor in the utter sense of ***** it all and the crued beauthy i reconize so very well.

And a whiskey laced brother kindred spirts seem to go better with southern bourban to
wash it all down.

Now sweetheart im not saying im any good but im always a goodtime.
We have to be ******* to be anything at all.
They all knew as so do I.

Heros gone were never heros at all.
Im the last of my kind hundred proof deadly with a **** eating grin.
Only through others eyes are we truely seen .
So I ask how's your view?

Admire many only to realize your lost in ego's storm.
Few understand and even less care.
Im always here till im truley gone.

Stay crazy friends and remember it's not to be admired.
For heros always must fall.
A breeze in the summers burning heat like many others.
I'll only leave a soon to be taken vacant seat.

Please give me freedom in thought to somehow ballance my prison of existance.
Cast stones over the water in a chance they'll skip across dark waters only to be trapped in another place.
Im a grounded pilot viewing clear skies .
****** at all but seldom  understanding even myself.

As tortured youth's scribble misery with ease still the grace of agony is wasted on jaded old farts like myself.
Im a ageless fool in a counted time .
Hey wanna chat?
Cyber games I can live in the real world for im who you see in the truth of my existance as well.

Empty corners is where I find happiness I just wanna be alone.
Hey want some company?
Yes stupid questions are alive and well spoken by overrated **** stars on the evening news.

Story at eleven  the news anchor blew half the crew to get this job what about her coanchor.
Another school shooting whatever happend to a good old fashioned beating?
Im sick of what i see maybe i'll make a fake version of myself online talk to little girls who hate what they see
make em think i have a answer ive never known myself.

**** being in style cause thoose people are about as real as there plastic surgeons newly made face.
I hate what I see maybe i'll just rip my eyes from there sockets.
Post my pics on twitter and collect dust with the rest of the half wits that could give a **** less.

Pour a tall one i'll buy my happiness along with my new liver stop on the way home and buy that happy ending
from some ****** who's sold herself less than I.
**** this circus cause I choose to say whats real not give you a verbal *******
and send you on your way.

Like this if your to lazy to move a mouse and say what you really think .
**** the crittics there people who cant do what you can.
**** the truth it just gets in the way of a good lie.
**** your ego I need the air to inflate my own.

**** it all!

Cause it's easier to push away than to ever look at yourself.
Its so easy to give up but few can stand there ground.
**** my thoughts cause its getting to the point a zombies march seems easier than a single thoughts remark.


??????


No I dont have answers.