It is not for me to know
Or for you either,
though your advice be well intended.
Our lives turn on the oddest moments.
   And for some, the meanest.
Who could have foreseen the path that unfolds before us?
   And that we pretend to take.
Only god, and then, only drunken.
I can will this to be providence or tragedy.
And with careful words, seem sage in either regard:
           "Distance makes the heart grow fonder"
            "Out of sight, out of mind"
Is truth so fickle?
Can it not be known, what this course holds?
not even after we've travelled it well and long?
But even this riddle too, I can choose my answer!
So I will choose it glorious, beautiful, wonderful!
For a fool will choose it lost, lonely, empty, ugly.
And both will be right. Or perhaps wrong.
But for that shred of hope and faith, mine will bring me closer to love
Closer to Truth. Yes, with a capital T.
And that is my journey towards god.

Sitting on the ottoman
That Ana made for me
Feeling early morning sun
With all my kitties three

Looking to my unknown friends
For their poetry and prose
Quietly just sitting here,
In this precious, rare repose.

These small moments gift themselves
For my  joy and reverie
An abundance there to fill my heart
Amid self calamity

Hurt, shoes and doubt, a cloak
A part of daily wear
But beneath the ***** garments
The joy of life is there

And so today I dress myself
In the peace of cotton white
cast off my stylized shoes and cloak
Button up this sunny light

And venture forth into the world
In no high fashion dressed
A humble and forgiving garb
Myself and others blessed

Death, at arms length
Made to fit in my hand so sweetly
The black steel grip
feels like I mean something
The slave for my anger
A powerful blame
A home for my victimhood
An outlet for my pain
at muzzle velocity
I don't even have to touch them
I can simply squeeze - just lightly
To **** them
All of them
Even the ones I don't know
They're collateral damage of my hatred
My anger is big enough for anyone to die for
Even myself
And this piece, will be my release
At 30 lives in a clip, I'll release so much
It will be over so fast. BAM!
They won't even know what hit them.
Neither will I

Paper cut.                            On a dry cracked finger
Bit my lip.                            That same spot over again
Jammed my toe.                 In the dark on the old iron chest
A boiling sip.                      Skin on the roof of my mouth peels away
Slammed my finger           The tailgate of my truck
Hit my head.                       On the corner of the open cabinet door
Sprained my ankle.            With a crunch that says "ER"
Bruised and bled.               inside the car on its back in the middle of nowhere
Shiver out loud.                  So cold, knowing its hours to dawn
Burned my back.                Bright red and translucent blisters
Tingling spine.                    In the dark, certain evil is there
Cough and hack.                 Needles stuck in my lungs
Curled in a ball.                   Because nothing matters
Long thin abrasions            Cowering  below his anger
Crackling cartilage              A powerful fist to my nose
Fevered equations.              Crazy dreams to sort out nonsense
Human condition,
Follows no law.
In everyday living,
Life can be raw.

But it's brutal when someone you trust is the perpetrator
.

It's knocking.
Inviting me to come in.
Not demanding.  That won't happen till later.
Right now, we're all on best behavior.
It's calling me,
The satin, silk, and cashmere of well chosen words.
Painting a picture of possibility and promise.
Implausible pay, promotion and perks
Pursuing the path, pursuant to plan.
It's inviting me in,
And reminding me that this was my idea.
But to what, I am not as certain as I was.
Or perhaps I'm just a little afraid.
Are those tingles excitement or premonition?
Warning or inhibition?
It is calling me.
It 's calling me forward, or so it says.
I think it's forward; hard to tell direction some times,  
amidst a fog or bright lights.
But I hear voices behind me too.  
Calling me back, whispers of doubt, hints of inadequacy.
That's weird, but there's cheering too.
Oh, the blessings of being loved!
It sounds familiar.  Those voices have been quiet for some time.
Are they mine?
I think it's about time both choruses were heard again.
It's knocking.  I'm walking.
Headed for the door.