You're as pretty as the sunset
saying I'm in love would be a pretty good bet
but if it's wrong, I'm in debt
to some one that I haven't even met
at least not yet,
but I will
and then I'll pay them with a thousand dollar bill
and hopefully get a thrill
because every day I work hard as a papermill just to get to the weekends
but all my relationships are deadends
and I don't want this to end like that again so I'm just sitting here watching Big Ben
and waiting
hoping that with me you're commiserating

The air is
thick with water beads.
***** little water beads
that fill my lungs
making it hard to breathe.

The yeast
in my belly
is causing me sickness
that nothing can remedy

My head is full
of deadends and barricades.
The yellow and black
bumblebee signs
warning me
to keep my feet on the ground.

Just then as
a hot air balloon
spills its peoples
onto jagged rocks.
Breaking their bones
and giving them ****** noses.

© 2011

All Rights Reserved

You need a certain amount of selfishness
and deep down determination
to reject what it is their selling
and reach a place where your heart is free
to accept the challenge of truly living.

My little English unstable friend,
Wobbling out of sidewalks onto streets, that lead to nevers
Alleyways and deadends
Along the wharf the parkway bends
The sailor has been thus way forever,
But you are but a drunken carpenter,
Your legs are accustomed to roofs and hallways, the legs get all wobbly on
This stream and even some astute drunken sailors have drowned, but keep up stumble on ways into the blackness become a floating warning
Come tomorrow morn, lad.
You know.
The faults of all are envy lust and too much broth at the bar,
The bar, the bar  down on
Wharf avenue.

Coming outa the fog that was a steady binge I reailzed it had all
changed.
No longer was I the in demand writer but more like a sad cliff note
to a on going trainwreck.

People either stopped by to view the specticle or laugh at the
man who no longer was what they secretly hated.
The drinks but a old vice and my only true friend who held the
promise of my death.

The night befor had been a display of Gonzo like a vetran preformer
I played the role empty to myself yet the joke they did thirst to
know to see that spark and relive vision's of a burning fire.

To have the safe laugh with the old drunkard.
My eyes but a store window to a long since closed business.
I had become a human ghost town a walking monument to
the strange case of what used to be.

There taunts were clear hidden under a mocking yet sweet candy
covered lie.
tormented like a lion in a zoo who's rage if released would
make them run in sheer terror if only they could imagine the violence
that loomed in my thoughts.

But I just continued to extinguish that fire every drink
kept it at a dull smolder.

They wanted the image the walking joke not the truth.
like a burnt out ****** eventhough it killed me i still
craved that feeling of utter acceptance in the reality of it's
true rejection.

The road called to me as it viewed me as a lost love
who had fallen and was notning more than a sad parody
of a once brave yet now bitter soul.

The mystery of that last great journey still did awake me.
The heart is a highway it's road looms on into the horizen.
Hitting deadends and emotional near insane crossroads.

And I no longer was numb enough to take it's punishment.
Th scrapbook of my mind was full yet pages were added by the drop.

The final chapter waited.
But befor it's end it must be lived.

Alone I knew this was the last stand and only when you walk through hell do you understand how it feels to rest in silence.
A circus preformer left with only posters and trinkets to recall
thoose failed glory's.

One last battle still did wait.
All i needed was one last spark.
So began my trip from paridise to hell.

The words my guide the whiskey my fuel.
Insanity my old friend in battle.
And this semi thing called reality my willing rival.

As writers we thirst for perfection and all its beautiful destruction.
As for gonzo it was all down hill from here kids.

Hazy houses only contain helpless hope masked by chemical....
Broken bottles like souls remain at our feet on grimey concrete...
We smile thru deceptive instruction
to rally rebellion .....
And like we challenge ourselves we shuttle towards deadends ....
But this is as happy as we can achieve with tempory friends...
But fatigue and famine contain the way our hell ends....
If we could have just believed in upstairs cellars...
Maybe we wouldnt have eased our way down into lower levels..
But welcome mats litter the basements we exist...
While we take another hit .... I kinda remember the things i miss...

excuse me,
I was studying every pixel
of that picture you posted,
so I might have missed your text
It was I seemed transfixed in you
and the light and dark dots of you kissing
your baby sixteen years ago,
I saw like in a quick dream, if
we had met way back then,
me also in the picture
so many bad dreams for me and you and her would
never have happened, all the wrong turns and deadends
the black and at times white spots
on my retina being a clear
vision forever.
I wish, now I just am staring at what could of been , Dear.
I will text you in a minute.

I learned love like
half truths and white lies;
A shifting labyrinth of deadends and pitfalls.
What I mean is,
in my anxiety-ridden daydreams,
you remind me of the King, babe.
I mean,
I'm sorry for what I can't control.

I learned love like
chasing a rabbit through a nonsense forest
where only questions exist.
What I mean is,
in my best case nightmares,
You live in a timeless place of teatime madness.
I mean,
I'm sorry for what I don't understand.

I learned love like
conditional, contractual rules unveiled by a
crazed chocolateer as honest faults are revealed.
What I mean is,
in my fantasized ever-afters,
you get everything you ever wanted, and I lose.
I mean,
I'm sorry for what I can never be.

I learned love like a riddle
so, I never learned love at all.
What I mean is,
I'm sorry, but I don't know why.