{Some old writing from when I was younger. A piece about the past.}

Smoke bellows outward
in a plume from parted lips
and rolls off my arms in a loving caress.

As I lower my hand from my mouth
and gaze at the stars
I am brought into a catalyzing train of thought.

As the domino's of the past
experiences collapse in my mind
I reach a dusty black box
i put away long ago
in the innermost regions of my brain.

Upon looking at the box
I see in gold letters, "do not open"
On the surface. I inhale once more
a drag most satisfying.

I exhale and gaze at the black box.

As I stare at the stars I am happy in this moment.
All tragedy's and shortcomings,
problems and obstructions
in my path seem to breath themselves calmly out of existence,
as I once did.

I am happy in this moment.

The horizon does not end
for those crafted of the infinite,
and the sun never sets in a perpetuating sky.

I create myself instead of searching.
For reality is not repeating itself,
rather it's extending toward nothing
and everything at once.

It is one and all.

It is black and white
and it follows no pattern or circumference. 

I inhale once more.
grind the embers of my cigarette into the surface of the box,
and exhale.

Dwelling not on anything
but the short life I have left to live
with each breath.

I watch the embers die out,

and leave.

lush red apple
sweet juice flowing
grass green eyes
take blue hands
fly through maps
and paint gray skies

royal purple
ruby heart
wild fruit on fire
white intention  
topaz smart
design of my desire

ember pit
ash smoke driven
tar black vile
fool

counterfeit
cash broke riven
star crack smile
ghoul

it starts
much
in the way
it ended.

you can't
break
what you
havn't
mended.

-r0

I've never been addicted to anything but the thrill of living.
Well I guess there's cigarettes, but does that really count?

I think about the drugs.
They're documented, here in my journal.

I feel awful as I read this memoir, "Beautiful Boy"
His father really wants him to ******* stop.

The methadone.
"That's some Heavy ****, _. What were you thinking?"
I was thinking about the high of doing something /wrong/

I walk to temptation, light a match and walk away.
Never involved, just toying with the idea.

I've had a couple glasses of wine, not high...
writing about the darkness makes we want another glass.
Is the act of expressing these emotions playing with fire?
Better pour myself another glass.

The downtrodden, the broken, the fall from grace.
I'm just fascinated.

A damaged person is more whole to me than the impeccable.

I am impulsive, unafraid of mistakes, romantic.
I treat my life and my body like a canvas.
I do not lump things into categories of black and white.
I open up to strangers and see beauty in the obscure.
I wear my heart on my sleeve.
I am no stranger to controversy.

// vacuous behavior in our world, and beneath it I believe there are people who are boiling to get out.//

People have been conditioned into eating, sleeping, *******, and buying their problems away.

I shouldn't be conditioned to feel weak about this vulnerability.
"To be fully standing in the light, one must cast a shadow"

BECAUSE it's in grappling with these dark moments, sharing & owning them/
that we are most liberated/

I accept and embrace this uncertainty

I'm red.
black pulse, unsaid.
in-between
living
&
dead

I am blue.
struggling true
in-between
the old
&
the new

I am a color and a light.
a spiral out of sight.

I am a promise
both broken and mended
I am a story
both begun and ended

I am a lie.
a bird in the sky
a song sung
a noose hung.

I am a smile.
a walk for a mile
a knife in the side
a law to abide.

I am a tear.
the loneliness you fear
the path you travel
a pavements gravel.

I am you.
pieced together with glue

you are me.
the reflection you avoid to see.

-r0

volumes fly as pages
catch wind novel
images and shapes
form in speechless
colored language
my dreams
speak.

when the drums pound
my heart beats
and these words leak like the ink
from pens that have dried
to the words that have died in youth
but echo faintly to my future.

-r0

hello there,
nighttime sadness
I see your pain
and I bleed for you.

Should the cold wind of this world rattle your bones,
Know that you have warmth in my thoughts and words.

-r0

I've come to realize in this massively dissociative city  that I'm lonely and unhappy. Much in the same way magazine covers don't seem to reflect the image I'd really like to see in myself. I'm chasing the tail of a dream that died long before I had the time to develop an admiration for pets. I would like to take care of something, and in turn, something to take care of me. But I have created a life bent on self-efficiency and cold realism-- a life without dependency. I don't know whether this is due to nature, nurture, or belief… but it is my blunt and isolated reality. What am I doing? Who am I proving life to? I came out here to experience a dream beyond my imagination, but all I found was ****. The same **** I find everywhere else. The only constant is people like you. Those who understand and care for my well-being. My family and friends. I want so badly to feel at home again-- to be close to another person. Until then I am stringing myself up by my shoelaces and finding work where I can. Because the world I've found is one bent on financial security over passion, and the only passion I've felt is for those who care enough to see. But people here are blind to me.

I'm not
the substitute
for the smoke
you've been inhaling.

-r0

I come home and look at my room
like I would the stranger that I ******
and didn't leave a phone number to.

I see the blank walls and smell
the sent of stale paint and think
of a life more privileged.

I can't help it.
I live in a box.

I see the world of money
and fame,
I live it.

I stay up and bite my nails
to dust
like it's achievable.

It's ******* not,
and I don't want it.

But I do.

Roses are red, ***** are blue
Take back what I said
I'll just *******.