In his seasons passing words wither and fade with the sunsets reprise.
These images paint portraits with grey backdrops tattered, twisted throwing stones across the pond only to hear them vanish in the dark waters below.

All the pretty flowers fully in bloom untouched by earth and unsoiled in the dirt of corruption of an existence lived in regret.
Bitter pills and torn pages have we not traded are truths to be lies created for are own protective womb of deceit to fulfill our ego.

All the pretty flowers wither just the same.
As standing skeletons left only to haunt the backdrop of our thoughts decay.

Are we not monsters?, Who once stood as men with great views whose vices consumed them turning us into something we can barely recognize ourselves.

Soil once fertile now seems only scorched a barren square of emptiness once were all things did grow.
All the pretty flowers mourn springs passing this concrete idealism for which no direction seems to suit us best.

I stand where here no longer will anything grow.

Old reflections and new revelations seem mired by my past.
Words thrown together for amusement the wreckage now simply a skeleton for children to play.

Sandalwood spent offerings the afterglow has long since left us cold now it lingers only in whispers somewhere within the catacombs of a dream I so eagerly forget and relive with each tune played .

Does it  still seem the same from you distant view my dear?
And old fights passions spent dried blood and a once in the moments ecstasy and a bitten lip.

How it seems a stranger now a old sentiment for a even older fool.
To hell with the memories they stand a tides pool of nothing I give a **** to embrace .

Maybe the nights are backdrop a story overplayed but none so beautifully ****** up as you.
Sureal is it now as my pavement of reality old faces and new enemies it's so ******* overplayed sweetheart almost as I.

We are nothing more than the example of the carnage .
Scars shared echoes of a illusion and are shared delusion how we laughed with the crash.

Tell me do they linger fragments misspent with others we react are ways with such bit players and one night stands where did we become
so jaded in a perfect sense.

Its all a act of repeat .
I dialed the number and simply hung upo before there could be a response .

For that train was derailed long before it met the station my dear .
just because I never reached out .
Don't ever believe I once did not care .

Lies we tell to are souls turn us to bitter old fools .
And this was my cue.

Exits are simply roads to yet another stage .
And mine was set long before my words reprise .

Yeah sometimes you just can't avoid that rear view mirrors
gaze no matter what kind of ******* you have become.

Never pen your dreams on me for my thoughts are embers of a once ever so bright fire.
Tatters of thought bury the recluse now they simply confide in me a lost fool who truly never gave a **** to begin with.

The fighter that's tried and worn his body broken his will the only thing left that he holds true.
When you have drown in your vices from this bottom will you emerge or simply settle for a good rest ?

past glory and worn lines my story is a cliff note to the ******* the will imagine .
Empty bottles and the scars to show the rroads end and all is left to return.
When they break you they will simply find another kid .

And life will pass you by as it has me.
Watch the patterns only to break the rules no outlaw fades easily.
And the sad old men we've become isn't a scene I care to relive much longer.

Nobody will be surprised for it been long overdue but I could never exist on another's terms.
I rather crash and burn than fade gracefully I am sorry to disappoint
but the hand was **** to begin with kids .

It's not always the way we see it but In life do we seldom write the ending.
Maybe the page understands me far better than I understand myself anymore .

Maybe.
Well when you get there as I you wont envy the others only realize the roads been paved long before your words where nothing g more than whispers .

Bury your ego for it has nothing to gain.
I view the highways end a different man than the young fool who cast his cares to the wind.

It's time to bury mine .

We played the act for as long as possible but to the naked eye it was so easily clear.
As the radio cry's old memories I realize are thoughts were bleak as this half delusion cast view .

Take my hand as one last time we embrace only to close the chapter .
Nobody can see the man for the character maybe I simply asked to much of you and to little of myself.

It's no longer there sweetheart so to you and the reader I must say this farewell.
Chapters close and pages fade nothing understands the pain but with time soon none will recall.

We know the memories now it's simply time to erase the void .
I hate this choice but tonight is as good as the next.
Shards of broken glass once held fragments of are half truths.
Secrets will seldom remain so try not let them bury you as me.

The nights magic no longer is my spark and this page has far better
company to keep.

Treat her well as she once did treat me.

I sit in darkness, soaked in Gin, I remember everything,
except all the things Tequila forgot,
I remember nothing except for the things left to rot

I forgot the darkest nights
most certainly in days light
I forgot you placed the drink in my hand,
is that how we ended up here last night?

A half empty glass we have mired our delusion dear
Do the stories just get better or do we simply fill in the blanks?
Trace our old lines again and again.
Weathered are my eyes behind a mask
It’s no place to breath but anything beats the grave.

As we recall the sunset from the shore it seems so far now
it is but a fraction of the truest sense and the most cursed fools delusion
a switchblades sting and you will remain my favorite scar?

Delusions are illusions with which we fool ourselves
with a magician’s eye and a sense of skill.
Sunsets upon a distant shore are our memories
retreating against our will.The switchblades knife is rusty and it's only hope is to scar.

Do you revere or revile me?
The empty bottles that lay between us ask for little.
I ask us for more!

Will I be your scar, the one you rub when you’re alone?
Tracing lines that cut so deep but set rigid, like stone?

Perhaps the open wound you created
when you picked apart our past won't heal as quickly,
and like the final drink we had together won't be our last.


Painted is the portrait so far from the truths we all choose to ignore
and now I simply understand are regrets than the echoes of a shared view.

When we break the heart do we find solace in a statue like existence?
We all spill the glass sometimes and a candles view dim will only reflect the shadows we've become.

Tomorrows a dream and the nightmares become a friend far more than this dance
I care no longer to stand and the ice won’t bare the weight of this ego's crash.

Let's skate the ice so thin it cracks beneath the weigh of pain.
Let's dance the tango of wilted dreams and find no shame.
Let the broken heart of shattered glass
be a reminder of our pain
but you and I, we share a common lust
we mix silently, oil and water
blending in the same frame

For from the page to the far corners of this empty floor we have made our choices
Now we understand past regrets in silent reframe

Never doubt the passion for the lack of fire it simmers a volcano underneath the illusion of emptiness and so we find are paths twisted yet always brought back to the same point.

We always speak in shadows what is known in light of day.

Our paths are gritty dirt, pretty split and intertwined
broken cobblestoned nights and sun baked days to which we can’t deny
Shadows that come to play hide the demons
we would once talk to, but threw away
when we attempted to revive a life we weren't meant for
Our answers don't lay at the bottom of the bottle
nor do they rest behind the closed door,
They itch beneath our fractured skin and spill their secrets on the floor
dripping from serrated cuts that pump a life full of ****** memories
the broken bottle stands as sentinel asking always for
One More...
Please?

Maybe we found our muse in a mutual insanity.
Laid bare the vein I question what lingers when nothing remains beneath?

This last round stands only for the night my dear for its clutches are but a moments embrace and an overcast view.
Tomorrow I can never promise what fate hands us by surprise.

Insanity is a fickle Muse
that's sips from a collapsed vein
breaking bottles against skulls
looking for an idiot to blame

Personally I think our Muse
is a Mistress that flogs well in the dark
Chaining our souls to our demons
never shining light on our demise,
Demanding we whip ourselves hoarse
prying opens the oysters
of our murky world spilling pearls of stone into a world so stark

No, the Muse of you and I is an unruly *****.
She chokes our memories and forces our pain
with a flick of her wrist

I was celebrating as normal I'm not sure why besides oh yeah duh I'm the most awesome writer in the history of this site .
The bar was empty as usual the old crowd had been abducted by aliens and replaced by children whom seemed to believe I truly gave a **** that there five day relationship had just fallen apart yeah live on your own bust your *** to exist then tell me how ******* hard life is okay kiddies.

It came through the wire a message that read.
Dear Gonzo I just read your recent co write and wow was I impressed
It's so great to see established writers giving new writers like yourself a break.

It appears this juvenile hamster had smoked a little to many bath salts today for they had no clue as who my ego fed **** was how dare they.
Yes kids isn't it a shame when all the kick *** drugs were discovered by your grandparents ?

Look don't reinvent the wheel if it gets you ****** up stick with the **** that hopefully doesn't make you trip ***** and lock yourself in a closet with a butcher knife .
That's why I stick with the mild stuff like herion.

I was just about to write this writer wanna be a long and thoughtful response telling them in a mature way to go **** themselves when yet another message came in .

Hey Gonzo loved your co write I always wanted to co write with a true writer any chance you could ask Helen if she would write one with me ?

Dear lord man these kids were higher than Justin bieber's  over inflated ego yeah he's going to put out a new album yeah you been warned .
.
Another message came in in one after the other it was like I was driving a ******* ice cream truck on a hot summer day every bed wetter and ****** picker running down behind me with there snotty little dollars clutched in hand didn't these children know I hate kids .

Well all except for barley legal hot ***** with low self esteem cause I truly love helping misguided ****** yeah I know I'm such a thoughtful ******* aren't I?

I couldn't take it I slammed the laptop shut and turned up the jukebox as I poured myself a stiff drink .
At least here at the bar I could escape this insanity .
But the nightmare was far from over .

As I herd the squeal of airbrakes as a school bus came to a stop outside the bar ****** I was being invaded **** why hadn't I infested in those rabid coyotes Lilly Mae  had tried to sell me .

The little ***** hit the door like invaders across are unguarded boarders yeah do you know how many millions of those ******* Canadians slip through every day .
Yeah if only we had snipers then we never would had to listen to Nickleback.

They jumped on the pool table laughed played and really started to **** my buzz as they played there modern crap they called music .
It was like being ***** by a ****** clown and the rest of his fifty buddies that could fit in one car I swear those  *******  can pack a car better than any Mexican I've ever known and for my fellow Latino friends out there I truly meant no disrespect please don't stab me or bounce up and down on my skull with your low rider  .


Hey Gonzo the leader of this dwarf cult spoke up we want a co write with you.
Um like hell I will Frodo just take your sawed off *** and return back to the shire  okay.

**** that stupid lord of the rings joke dork don't you know harry potter is the in thing *******.
The little man had said a mouthful there and being he was a Harry Potter fan I could tell he was probably used to having his mouth full of assorted things like his nerd friends magic staff .

Look sparky or ******* or whatever the hell you name is note to anyone if you don't have *******  I probably wont care what your name is .

I truly hate kids okay and there's nothing in this world that would make me ever write anything with you so just carry your *** cause I'm sure you are missing out on some kickass time to sulk in your room that is more furnished than my entire house and post your bleeding heart sonnet all over your ex girlfriends face book wall alright.


Okay the little hamster replied .
You know Gonzo I'm real sorry you feel that way cause I was going to overlook the fact that you offered me and my friends ***** and tried to get my underage sister to flash her ******* .

It's a real shame I hate to see such a talented co writer go to waste sitting in prison but you don't want to co write with us so I fully understand .

I couldn't believe this little **** was going to blackmail me it almost brought a tear to my eye how demented he truly was .
Reminds me of myself at that age when I blackmailed my sitter into showing me her ******* ahh the preciouses memories .    

I weighed my options co write masterworks of true demented genius or play basketball with guys who had been in so long that they let me win cause I was a hot ***** .

Hmm I had to ponder that one cause I never was very good at basketball duh I'm white and slightly bad humored with racist jokes that if do offend get over yourself it's called a ******* joke okay.


Okay sparky you got yourself a cowriter but can I ask one thing first?
Sure Gonzo shoot.
Well being that I was going to be falsely accused of seeing your sisters ******* maybe I could actually see them?


I don't have a sister you perve I just said that to trap you into co writing for us and finish this stupid *** write cause it's drinking time and I got places to be people.


Until next time hamsters stay crazy Gonzo.