I had finally broke through on a small scale the words were selling .
I found less and less reason to find outside jobs to support myself anymore I drank as I pleased and slept in late .

I was amongst a few but we seldom if ever crossed paths .
We knew we existed but when you step from the playground to the battlefield there is a change that comes over you I cannot explain unless you are there .

People became less and less a concern of mine .
Those I gave a **** about had either died or left long ago.
To gain anything you must be willing to lose everything .

The person you once were must die .
Maybe some found it easy .
They scribbled some words down found a fool to publish it and struck gold .

But fairy tales weren't my style and I had reached the finish line empty and broken .
But I had reached the ******* ! , And that is  all that truly matters .

I thought of those that doubted me .
I thought of the women with whom had shared my bed .
Most thought I was insane and for some that is what drew them to me .

That drive was always there .

I remember sitting in the dark with one such woman .

"Even when your happy you seem so deeply sad inside ".
She said to me her head on the pillow .
As we looked into one another's eyes.

"I'm always thinking sweetheart it's just my nature'.

"Please just be happy baby everything is going to work out I promise ".

We kissed she laid her head on my chest and drifted off to sleep as I counted the demons of my past in the shadows .
They lingered like smoke rings in the air.

I knew are paths were destined to part .

Promises are for fool hearted children not bitter old men as I.

She found another and I found my place amongst those who grasped what few ever could .

We were guarded to others .
Insane to many for we chased a illusion and turned it into our existence .

It was a scene of emptiness and regrets we erased from the simple readers view .
And as for me I bleed the truths of my past upon every page making it seem like art fooling everyone but myself.

It was a fight to remain afloat yet I swam with the sharks and thrived amongst the few .  

I gave up everything that ever mattered to me.
And was a stranger now to even my oldest friends .

We were are killers for we had stepped on anyone who dared get in the way .
Never believe me to be the victim for I made my choices and now
I sit at the table eager to reap its rewards .

It's never a gift it's work plain and simple .
You clock in bleed your soul and bust your *** .
learn to smile at rejections and keep moving no matter how many times they try to break you.

What was once a child's escape is now a fulltime hell.
And I paid my dues in blood and heartache followed by vices that continue to consume me daily .

When you find yourself here, If this is truly for you remember as you ache from the pains of a life lived and a heart shattered not to mention a mind just a shock treatment away from the asylum .

You wanted this.

The view is never the same from murders row  .

There is no easy way to take it.
The rejection of many never compares to that of one once true


They are the ones that always hit you the hardest.
I have buried myself to avoid the pain of the many my defenses are stronger than the average man.

She was my exception .
I didn't try to stop you .
Only a fool pleads.
Giving what little dignity he has for a thin chance at something that is over to begin with.

Kelley was my poison she was like certain death and a good time all rolled into one.

She never cared for anyone let alone me
But I made her laugh and that was good enough to have her for six years .

She was the one I wasnt supposed to have.
Young beautiful she was from a world I could never understand.

But she loved me for what reasons I will never truly grasp.

I missed are passion for everything.
Fighting ,Drinking ,*******.
She understood madness with a good dose of her own.

The week she left me.for good I stayed on a three week drunk.
Eat pills like they were candy and found after awhile even being numb has a emptiness that simply masks pain.


The phone would ring and I knew it was her.
I couldn't answer.

It wasnt that I didn't want to hear from her.
It was I didn't want to allow lies to feed a glimmer of hope.

Writers are professional liars.
She was no writer.
She was something far worse.
She was a women whom had a mans mentality.

She was as  ****** up as me and I knew her love was toxic .
She was like a cigarette to a trying to quit smoker .

Sure it can **** you but man one draw and that poison never tasted so good.
Death can be tempting when it looks so ******* good.

I was the past to her .
Nobody ever stays in love with the past.

I sat there alone in my cluttered room watching one day flow into the next.

Dust grew upon the page.
My thoughts simply stayed in a state of rewind.

Im not home  now leave message after the beep.

Baby please talk to me.
Kelly's voice came through.

I didn't answer .
There's only silence amougsnt the tombstones.

There are more stinky love poems than anything else.

Even I have written too many
Even I have written 1, sometimes, 2 full pages
But soaking the paper with tears.
Some go different, go joyful
And why?
Because love is easy to write about
It is the most powerful emotion only equal to hatred
Yet the most boring;
Unless it comes with anything attached
I yawn at those pesky stanzas of repeating gibberish.

Those who vainly describe love itself are cowards
Those who read them morbidly curious
And those who enjoy weak of mind,
For inftuated poems are the equivalent to a pop song
                                  easy to construct
                                  easy to deconstruct
                                  easy to marvel
                                  easy to cry at
                                  easy easy easy
                                  nothing new nothing learned

'O the perfect skin', 'O the glittering eyes', 'O the cheeky smile',

If you want to write about love put some mustard into it
And make it real
Don't waste my time, all lovers are marvelous I get it,

But what scars do they have?
And how many do they leave us with?

any one person can withstand pain.
But there is a subtle difference.
When it isn't registered..
Like a dream that alludes the recently awoken.
For the moment is always questioned as fiction when it comes about.
As if building a freeway over the desolation would bypass the isolated incident.
With every pass does it become so.
And yet it is ever so aparrent.
Like a splinter made of ice.
For when the initial trauma fades.
The cold.
Numb.
Aftermath.
Sets in.
Making every other impalement go unnoticed.
Picking at old scars with phantom limbs.
Visible only to other ghouls.
Which have sadly become the only contact available.
And neither the shadow nor the image it belongs to are recognizable.
And this room full of strangers gains an addition to its ever changing painting.
One that will inevitably be painted over.
For it has become not only a constant.
But a certainty.
One that will be upheld.
Regardless if this hand helps it.
Or not...

I stepped outside and all I see is the air you left behind
The candy bars we used to eat

I close my eyes and all I see are phosphene colors
The feelings broken down in a kaleidoscope

I never watch them leave .
You must remain a ******* to exist amongst the sharks.
But there's always the scars of a jaded mind to allow you the replay.

Dark nights always find me .
Where those memories reside the tomb stands in the cemetery I just seldom cast my view there anymore .

The fire never leaves you it remains to mock your current efforts.
And the great question seems far more right than wrong when dealing with the years of rejection.

I wonder am I alone ?
I wonder does the path run forever will my luck run out tonight ?
Kiss the wind as it casts embrace upon others.
Let the storms destroy them all and allow you to remain.

We are all locked within the asylum some just laugh to hear themselves think.

Old books give older answers to such simple questions .
Take her while she is waiting never think twice bout the moment .
A good bottle a darkened room.

I find solace in the silence .
Inside I'm always laughing to.