Once you've finally
come to realize that
the little ones are the
only good human beings
.
Your trust in anything at all
is all but gone.
Your back now as worn
out as a well read
paperback.

And your heart,
your starving,giving
unselfish heart has
now been hardened
by the loose,uncaring
women
you gave it to.

You got to just
barrel through it all
while taking it real
easy on the breaks.

The burdens of society,
the addictions,her wants
and what little
you have to give.
That on going
struggle within yourself
between what you
want to do and
that in which keeps her happy,
a roof over your heads
and gas in that guzzler.

We are cursed with a
narrow perspective,
unlike the butterfly who
sees in all realities.

Learn how to survive
and consume with the least
amount of your potentials
and call this success.

Decay always begins
once growth ends.
And there will be
plenty of dreams
to **** tomorrow

There's times that seem
to fit and make it all more real.

Like the snapping of the
plastic seal on that
cheap bottle of
*****.
Just as she slams the door
for that final time.

Frusciante on the radio
and you with a needle in
your hand.

The seagull who passed and
dropped his waste
upon your sunset.

There's images that swirl
inside your head and
leave behind deep grooves
within your memories

Impressions like her
sculpted face in candle light.
That strung out you in the mirror
that even you didn't recognize.

There's that love you
thought was dead
and those addictions
you swore you
left behind.

There's times and ways
that seem to fit.

And it's what lengthens
this life that are like the
pages of a calender.
One on top of the next
to be written over.

All to be lived
one page at a
time

You can’t always **** me goodbye.
A way with your words and a way with your hands.
It was always easy to get you into bed,
  I knew I should’ve took that for a sign.
We’ve got no strings, no guarantees
  only our zipped lips that take the change we put in our pockets.
We could talk forever but I’ll always have to look up
and you will always have to look down.
Always and forever you are my ringing circle,
my fatal sun.

I'm far from a prophetic
man.
I don't care enough
about those Ill leave behind.
Or those I pass on
Gaffey street.
Through the years
of living hard and without
I've come to discover
greatness.
I've come so close
to cracking.
So close to embracing that
injured hand
of madness.

I have emerged from
the solitary prison cells
and the sad existence
of life locked into
a drug den I called
my home.
I've come out
the other side
with a densely
colored vision of
it all.

It's not all
in Greys,
but with the times
I've spent in the Grey.
Thus gave birth to
my convictions.