So somebody asked
me to write about me
and I'm taken aback
by the difficulty

I'm an addict in a rehab
my life has been difficult
and often it stabbed
but I've repaired in the mental

I don't watch TV
and eat mostly green
I focus on the unseen
if you know what I mean

Do people eat broccoli on pizza?
Because it sounds delicious
one topping I like is spinach
and cheese like chester cheetah

Seems you can tell a lot about a person
by what type of foods they have aversions

Ah yes, on to Hockey!
the best of all sports
It's my fav so don't knock me
It's a religion of sorts

Speaking of religion
I feel it causes division
with so many revisions
to each their OWN decision

Some think I'm insane because
I think about the other thing
often wondering what I was
and who I am beyond my thinking

Dear Randy,

     What the ****? Why do you consistently continue to **** your life up over and over again!? Why do you choose to talk to all these crazy broken women, knowing it will always end badly? Do you really hate yourself that ******* much? Or because you're crazy too?
     Is it the loneliness or the worthlessness? The boardroom or the cabin fever? Your mom's overdose or childhood horrors?  Or is it the simple fact that you just LIKE to get ****** up? And since the world is ****** up too, you use that as an excuse to USE... citing that it's all just too much for you...

Because you are a little *****!
    
     You have no excuse for the drinking,. You started young, you liked it, and never wanted to stop. So you just didn't. And now, 15 years of hell later, your mind is losing itself, turning whatever pseudo-intelligent person you used to be into a mush-brained-narcissistic-soapbox-ranting and complaining *******.
     Oh and let's not forget! Your lies... Creating stories at times that are fairly large lies that affect you and other people, just for the rush of using your mind pulling all that off, to get that person to believe you. And you maintain the lie. Often times these lies are to garner sympathy of some sort. Still, others are self depreciating, which is strange. ******* ******. Attention *****. Self-seeking self loathing self-centered self-destructive stupid selfish *******!
     You need to somehow find your big boy boots so you can finally climb out of that little fantasy world you have been sheltering yourself from the storm with. And then you can see that everyone is in the same ******* storm. Grow up, grow a pair, and start doing your ******* job and help people,  ****.

Sincerely ******* always,
Yourself

Red haired fair skinned girl
You're beautiful
Not because of the red hair
Or the fair skin
It is your kindness
Your openness
and your light within

People in places with feelings
Running down the darkest of roads
They could be much worse off
it's their choosing
Some choose life and love the perils of love
Love is alive and it's moving
Never tie it down to anything
We must be free of the chains and see beauty
In each and all of God's everything
So just live and let live and sleep naked
and love every single being you can

I remember remembering this moment
a subtle knowing this occurred before
is it the events unfolding as they were?
or the memories unfurling as they are?

this always happens
over and over again
the dream is beginning
the nightmare almost over
sober thoughts
drunken actions
hospital beds
psychiatric mansions
a broken record
pills to stop the bleeding
the hemorrhage of our meeting
are we okay to swim?
This is happening again
ascension is us leaving
hell is where we stay
we are sinking to the brink
my oily skin is heavy
in the water of your heart
drowning in the blisss
mixing In the swoon
I'm dying
you're crying
so we are too

literally, we are living in a van down by the river. I have never been so happy, laughing and sober, our love trascending old hurts, with seagulls to feed from pantry food given to us  in true need, our greed it has vanished with our stomachs so famished, connecting with God again, bathed in praise from the generosity of those living in His name, all we can think to say is hallelujah, amen! with no shame as we hunt for cans to purchase Cheyenne's, remembering our materialism as if it were a prison, laughing all the way toward crazy, yet our minds have never been less hazy, so clear of all fear, knowing through intuition that angels watch over us, lending assistance at just the perfect time, every time, even when hope seems to be missing, especially then, so let me say it again as a destitute man with his woman living in a van down by the flowing river... Hallelujah, Amen!

Cigarette after cigarette I smoke
Is it time to go home yet?
There are people everywhere in pain
Mis-using semicolons like *******
These cuts are on my legs for a reason
And it isn't grammatically correct
Can't I just be?
I want to set fire to my house
or to my soul
Whatever comes first
Maybe my feet can connect with the grass
Something living that doesn't define me
Who am I anyway?
I am a pine needle
That is what I am today
Refresh my memory
Am I a *****?
There's never anything good on TV
I should watch the news
To justify my cuts
I guess I'll go shopping
To justify my cuts
Tomorrow never comes
I just want to enjoy today

my heart is soaked in rain
its pain evaporates in the sun

my heart grows cold and weary
teary eyes melt the fears away

my heart shatters into a mosaic
in tragic art it rebuilds stronger

my heart burns fiercely at its core,
to forge my soul into divine humility

The clock it is ticking
what are you missing?
do you say 'I love you'?
do you say it with truth?

The last breath is near
what are your fears?
do you make your amends?
do you forgive or pretend?

The moments are fleeting
what are you repeating?
do you resent your life?
do you live it with strife?

The clock it is ticking
what are you missing?
remember love is a choice
and that you have a voice

The calendar says December 31st. The eve of a new reverie, the beginning and the end of the next and last dream we perceive through our eyes which are the windows to the galaxies and the universe and the black hole pupil at the center pulling everything which is nothing into nothingness and making it real and alive and transcending who we think we are into everything we thought to be, manifesting the love we share as human beings when we allow these vessels to do their thing and experience the oneness that we so desperately need to achieve, so even if there are numbers on a page that make you say that this year I will find my way, rejoice, because you already have today and not tomorrow, because the past and that day do not exist but only on a page

I consent that I am afraid that everything is fake as if there are no actual faces in these scenes of chaos and affection where I am floating abhorring direction towards anywhere that isn't me I have the faith to move mountains but the stains remain inside my thoughts and it's hard to think about anything but pain regret and the shame I thought I walked away from but never let go of buried until I cry and release it from my eyes baptizing me in the name of love if nothing else maybe I can go home when I was young I dreamed that my destiny would be in reach at this stage and I feel it rising in my veins because now I see that I am a mirror reflecting and that the image isn't me

Being sober is like turning into a werewolf there is everything and nothing that scares us because we have seen it all and done it all except accept the pain as spiritual growth and keep on going towards what feels like forever and try and try not to lose hope

If only I could decide
do I take a leap of faith
and lose my life for love
or do I keep it for comfort?
who do I really trust...
especially not me

God is wearing many different shades of Orange in this gorgeous sunset over the water tonight

God is working in my life in various ways that make me get down on my knees and pray in thanks

God wears the face of a man l've only recently met who has lended me so many helping hands

God is working to restore my soul to the original mold before I grow too old

God wears the face of a dying drunk to show me if I keep doing wrong  then that is what I will become

God is working to restore my faith so I will truly let go and finally accept His loving grace

God, wear me, so I can show others what you have shown me

this is a true story to paint
who my ego is by telling you
how I got hit in the nuts
with a basketball thrown
by a smoking hot 22yr old
during 'recess' at a drug rehab...
-twice-
so what did I do?
I dated her when we got out
because I'm not smarter than I look
and I proceeded to take
kicks to my nuts
for three straight months
and then I got dumped
so the moral or the story is;
protect your nuts

Will i ever get to go Home
to the Love where I come from
that is placed among the stars
a memory of my heart
above all hate and fear
the one created with my tears?

my thoughts turn hazy and cold
in a perverse sense of well being
in feeling not safe on this place called earth
where self-worth is a curse to behold
where my tears appear out of fear
and I submit that it's all in my head
that all will be well in this material hell
as the mystically spellbound
seemingly intellectual
festival of my dreams
and all that would be
seems to be free of misery
yet in loneliness
I stress my regression
from the lessons I've learned
because I yearn to be seen
to commit adultery of the heart
with the song of my soul
to let go of the past
and immerse in the glass half full
of pain and anguish to languish
that which attacks my reverie

I saw hell and I'm afraid to go back
I must find the elusive loving I lack
I fear this daydream of death
I want to take my last breath
I wish my mind would cease it's attack

revel in the ever present always fleeting moment
face our twinkling star as it ticks away the firmament
feel the subtle warmth of burning time upon your skin

tingle from the glow of a midnight morning breeze
breathe in the animation of your vessel still asleep
exhale the once hoped maybe into the surely then was

taste the scent of new life springtime flowers growing near
see the buzz of a vibrating bee as it gyrates your inner fears
create yourself from the sacrifice of all the holy recycled dead

this feels so surreal
stuck in this hell still
this song I hate that's on repeat
so tired of the beat
listening alone
tired of believing others
they tell me they hear
they lie to me
as we slow dance
and I feel them
swaying out of tune
then I lie to me
hopelessly clinging on
hoping if I take the lead
maybe then they'll hear my song
and learn to love me
even though I know I'm wrong

Boredom always gets its way,
in my waking life, in this meeting,
with nothing important left to say,
is when convincingly, in reverie,
my insanity comes out to play,
a thought to stand up, strip down,
scream and run away

I just want a chick who is as ***** as me, but also showers regularly

This...
This is my temple...
This vessel...
This vessel that I wrestle with...
This sanctuary of dreams...
This vehicle of persistent reality...
What do I see?
Who is there reflecting me?
Could I reach inside the glass sands of time and grab my reflection... the one serving its purpose, dangling like a carrot of love...
But only on the surface...
DO I see?
Or am I blinded by time...
Not only blinded, but created!
Made to be manifest!
Drawn into a new world, where the past and future rule the slave class, where the only real moments scream out of blood curtling desperation from the awful beast inside my brain...
that beast which is me, shackled with things and desires, chained up by pleasure and lust and administering drugs that keep my soul in hospice...
I must awaken my reflection...
I must shatter my perception...
I must create myself!
For I am the god of this temple...
This vessel...
Created for me...

Ah, light! Beautifully strewn across the landscape of my soul's heart. My desire for freedom illuminating the sphere of my little big world bubble, casting shadows of fear away to where they belong in their spiral, circling the drain of no hope, clogging my madness and need to run from the precocious empty, which used to damage me so... I feel free today! Where did I used to go? They are gone from the circular despair and return in desperation, as such that cycle goes... clinging and growing inside my joy, as ego... but no more foes like lightning electrifying the compass of my one true soul. Flames we are, catching fire to the moth, assimilating within its flow, though we are like the butterfly, not the moth, transformed in representation of pillars made of salt... we are those pillars, the salt of the earth, guarding freedom, in hope... do we taste just so? Or shall we baptize in waters that float... why even worry? We cannot add to our canvass we create on to and fro, quo vadimus... where are we going? I now can and may answer that we are headed home, though not on our own, but through loving others as ourselves, all those with hearts of stone... Thus we shall say, 'Let there be Light! Or so the story goes...

I must jump in the flowing river
regardless if it makes me shiver
boots and socks and jeans reluctant
it must be done if I'm triumphant
at it's head there's no enlightened spring
just destiny awaiting inside my dreams
though I may drown along the way
I'll never cease to love and pray

Life has hit me mercilessly
shotgun blasts to my soul
tearing out pieces of it
leaving holes that need filling
with little or no hope I push on
still reeling and out of control
I continue to smoke and drink
and think to myself that maybe
there will be an answer
in something I've wrote
therefore I write and write
in spite of my lack of ambition
just in case I find
the truth that I've been missing

I've got to go before I go crazy
so peace out, I've got a ride
otherwise I'll just sit here
waiting on the next lover
she'll be the one this time
a close friend once told me
three women ago
so here I go riding that greyhound
time to get outta this *****
I've always liked southern accents
Cya later Michigan

Why am I writing with no demand?
Hoping to entertain lovers.
Do you know how sensitive I am?
Lying to myself and others.
Is my whole entire life just a scam?
Compelling that I even wonder.

This most recent dying has slowed time itself to a crawl as if it is dying with me and is gasping for breath, the ticking choking sound is suffocating me once and for all and I can't stand it or sleep as it leaks and creeps on into the next second while I bleed spirituality, angry and regretful at my decision made in misery.

someone once told me
to be a writer
I must bleed on the page
well here is me hemorrhaging
unleashing my rage
I'm so tired of being a fighter
I only wish to be free
if I allow myself to think
if I let myself feel
it makes me want to drink
I badly want to heal
I miss you
I'm dying
I hate you
I'm crying
I love you
I'm trying
I'm drunk
Help me
I'm holding on for dear life
refill my glass please
I've forgotten what's right
my blood is thin
my will is sin
my heart is dim
my love has been
why can't I bleed!
I ******* hate my alcoholic greed
I ******* hate me
take away my need
someone once told me
there's no such thing as free

passion has left me for dead
floating along the surface
no thought of treading water
no curious intent
just a worthless life preserver
an inflated ego to resent

Even looking at the word ‘imagine’ sparks my imagination.. It feels magical, to create with our minds. We are capable of so much beauty and destruction and Love and fear.. so maybe, we just need to choose to be magical, and imagine our lives as a blessing, to strive towards the giving of ourselves for the sake of others, trusting that God or the Universe or Him or Her has got our backs when they are against a wall, and to believe in angels and signs and prayer and hope.. to focus on things unseen and the green grass, the sunshine, and places called Home.. trusting in friendship and connections and soulsearching Love, and fate that is loosely painted by the brush strokes of our bodies and with the colors of our intentions.. holding on to the knowing that God’s grace is flowing and holding on to us like a
teacher guiding each stroke, some seem so ugly and gross in the moment but.. each one is just part of a wholehearted masterpiece, just waiting to behold.

Burning cold shivers in my shoulders and neck,
the grip of lust toward death drags me downward,
only small breaths escape my chest, through clenched teeth I can hardly breathe,
I'm shaking internally...
Please don't look me in the eyes,
because they're crying,
yes I know they're dry,
as I try to hide the fear and sheer terror I feel of loneliness inside my blindness,
this dark room of lost love,
'I need help!'
I shout cries to the Above without any noise from the shell of who I was,
and though the blood it still runs,
I pray for peace it dries up,
because now I've had enough beatings from this life,
and my heart...
and I can't even pretend to have the strength to start all over again,
so thanks but no thanks,
I'm sorry...
this is the end.

When I seek to find true love...
I always end up finding drugs

I think I may be dead,
or dreaming..
there's nothing new,
nothing different..
always trying to forget the feeling
of remembering why I left before
unable to rise from slumber
lack of love it keeps me under
leaving me forever wanting more

Take a look at my heart..
It beats and bleeds..
In time I feel so alone..
In space I feel so lonely..

Everything dies
so I sit here and cry..
longing to be belong..
yearning to be heard..

Screaming to be seen!

Peer into my soul
I'm open and hoping
my vulnerability shines
I'm no longer cowering
or hiding behind lies
I'm hanging by a thread
swaying in cold wind
I need the warmth of love
to help me find innocence
else I'll be hanging dead
letting go of my resistance
and it comes to be written
God rest his broken soul

the low loud murmur of a filling theater,
up to its capacity,
though not an audience to watch a play,
just actors of reality,
they all wear masks to hide their intentions,
their true identity.

a never ceasing suggestive satire,
forcing reverie,
an ever present wanting whispering,
my head's insanity,
this crowd of voices inside my mind,
are all just imitating me.

There is this idea of infinite universes, in which every possibility is manifest, and this idea I enjoy… if paths chosen are limitless, then there truly is no room for regret.  A few times in my life I’ve experienced what can only be described as an overwhelming feeling that I had recently died, that somehow I had jumped from one reality to the next, where I was still alive… and I have nearly died on several occasions, yet there has never been a white light(so don’t ask), not even while I was in a coma and I experienced many types of ‘dreams’ that were very vivid and real... no, it’s usually just waking up in hospital rooms, or mental institutions, where this feelilng of purgatory becomes more persistent, and time moves painfully slow… I asked a girl once, during one of these lulls, when the feeling was heavy on my mind, ‘what if this is Hell?’ and I coulld tell it scared her though and I felt badly when her eyes got so wide… but why so afraid if she didn’t feel as if it might be true inside her mind?

Most people do not understand my sense of humor... its very dry and often subtle, or off the wall beyond the normal. So when a joke made by me falls flat, there is an awkward moment where you look at me like I am dumb, and in my mind I think ah ****, they're dumb, then we both shake it off and continue on..

Dropping down now to my knees, screaming from inside these prison walls of this mind of mine to be free from my insecurities...

I enter into tunnel vision with each drop of wetness hitting the pavement sounding like a different note on a grand piano each key softly splashing and misting away into obvlivion the lucky ******* and I just sit here in my sin again until my friend saves me and digs me up from underneath whatever it is today that is covering me up whatever it so happens that I have had enough of to tip the scales of fate in favor of bubbling fizzing alcoholic waste and so I pace wondering what changed what gave my brain permission to become entagled with my heart because it certainly wasn't me or the essence of what is me or what character I pretend to be or what my ego thinkgs I would like to be and I love you this I know outside the group effort that tries to trick me that they're me and even they sometimes have to get on their knees on chorus of yes she is amazing but they always follow it up with a she's too good for the real me you really ought to just set her free and spare her misery and grief and thus therefore I have not talked to God very much lately and I'm struggling with my spirituality like all these things that I have attached myself to and held on to over the span of my lifetime has continuously been proven incomplete or false entirely and I'm green now because I'm jaded and I hate it because I feel as if my passion is dwindling at best in all aspects and it's frustrating and such a ******* mess emotionally and again I drink and it's not because of you it's me or maybe more accurately it is something that has been desperately trying to **** me the only problem is that I am not as weak as it thinks and when I have a best friend that is always at ringside with me I'm always in the battle and I will not quit I will not give up even when I'm in tremendous peril and the fact that I might be sterile is like a microcosm of my life in general where I want a family and a wife and kids more than anything yet the alcoholism makes me not the most eligable bachelor and of course socially sterile like a ***** in jerusalem I sing my hymn of loneliness wanting to connect with Him but feeling inaqequate in sin

Melted chains and burn marks on my wrists
scars that remain to spark memories
existing only to play the part
to remind me
to not resist the Love
amidst this twisting worldly sphere
resisting then the atmosphere of fear
designed to wipe our minds clear
forgetting that we are all the children
of the One who came here
to disappear our iniquities
the toxicity that dwells within our flesh
recalling then that every breath we breathe
is the breath of Life
and nothing less
and I am free to express who I am
now created new through Him
leaving the past in the background
I was lost and now am found
my hands have been unbound

I am a work of art in progress...

The brushstrokes that have been the hardest to paint, become the most beautiful parts of me...

I am a work of art in progress...

All of life is God’s canvas.. He created the heavens and the earth, but He is still creating me.

And if we are God, shall we pass judgement? And if we are, then we are merely judging ourself.
And if we decide to create love, not torment, then and only then shall we step out of our hell.

My chest crushed and any semblance of a man is gone, there is no turning back... what is done is done. Again and again, all the way through to what feels like infinity multiplied by infinity times a thousand! Yes I am a child, buried deep down in the well of my soul locked away forever, and right now I am kicking and screaming, directing self-pity like Scorsese!  My disease is killing me, more than just physically, it is mentally, spiritually, emotionally, and virtually everything that is me.

there is a forever storm raging
with deadly lightning
and strong winds of change
and yes, it scares me
never leaving me the same
sometimes I dance in the excitement
I revel in the insane
time has a way of making me forget
those days when I don't get
to see you...
the touch of your skin becomes dim
until I feel you again
it's then I remember...
like an ocean it falls on me
your breath in my ear
your heartbeat
your laughter
your release of fear...
my body pressed up against yours
my fears washed up on some unknown shore
my insecurities rivaling yours
my faith surviving with ours
like a light in the darkness you wake me up
as I jostle you too
I can never ever get enough
of you..
all these rhymes are easy
and I want you to see
that no matter what goes wrong
you will always have me
I'll never go anywhere without you
even if the world somehow sets me free
I'll carry you with me
physically and emotionally
you will never leave my essence
you will always leave me *****, but...
you will never leave me incomplete.