You were freer than a free verse
And even sonnets could not keep you.

Tonight we got drunk on papayas,
Sitting on the sidewalk sipping
drinks, careless laughter
exploding from our mouths when
the moon split itself
Down our throats. In the messy
medley of the night I felt you on

my skin, remember:

How I lost myself in the fine lines
Of your lips where you claim
Your flaws fall into.

How I tried to swallow them like
apricots and how - in almost exact reciprocation
Of the same passion -
your eyelid moves which say:
I love you as much as I love God.

You are four light years away
And tonight I got drunk on papayas.

This is not a poem because
Sonnets could not keep you safe
And free verses compete but lose
Their flame, for

Like a landslide you let love slide,
I let love leave then.

Jameson from the bottle
Bedroom floors
Faded stars
I told you all the secrets
And you swore you'd keep them
Wasted words
drunken love
Promises that would be broken
I feel naked
I'm fully clothed
my heart
In his hand
As I tried to steal his soul

Her thick brow,
Is only her choice.
A stance against norms.
2. Ribbons and flowers,
All tangled in her hair.
A decorative crown,
But beauty is not defined here.
3. She had many lovers,
Of many kinds.
But promiscuity,
Does not define worth.
4. Drink more than the men.
To dance with a love,
They can never have.
5. Politics are unimportant,
Only the ideas in your mind.
Of equality and charity,
But it will leave somebody dead.
6. Be bold and smart.
Follow your own direction,
Maybe dress like a man
7. When a trolley crashes,
Leaving you wishing for death,
Draw on your bandage.
Don’t let your broken column
Break your strength.
8. Don’t fall in love with artists,
They drink too much,
Cheat too much.
And will break your heart
9. Fall in love with artists,
A musician, maybe a painter.
You’ll never be bored,
You’ll always be drunk.
10. Just don’t let them break you,
Don’t stop painting because you’re hurt.
Don’t give them the satisfaction,
Of breaking your wings.
11. You don’t need anyone,
When you have wigs to fly.
Don’t need feet,
Or anyone else.
12. You probably feel like a freak,
Like the weirdest person you’ve ever known.
But as long as you’re weird with me,
You’ll never be weird alone.
13. Make friends with the past,
With people you’ve never known.
It’ll always be a source of security,
No one can leave that’s already gone.

I look at Frida through her paint, through her words, through the story of her life she has taught me not to be afraid.

Go choke on your delusional idea of love. No does not mean “change my mind” No does not mean liquor me up, get me good and drunk till I can no longer verbally reject you. My slurs of terror and anguish as I try to shove you off of me. Did it make you feel good? Did you feel like a real man- To take what was mine. Did it boost your ego? You had no right to sneak into my bedroom and steal my girlhood. I was 13. Chaos seeped into what was a serene life. The torturous and endless cycle continued for 3 ******* years. What man is so weak? So weak that he has to take what he feels he’s entitled to, from a little girl. I can never get back what you stole from me. They couldn’t find any evidence to prove the assault even happened, but the trauma can never be erased from my mind. The skin replaces itself every 7 to 15 years, so scientifically speaking your hand prints are still eminent on my skin. This flesh and bone is no longer mine. That home I took my first steps in, was no longer mine from the moment you creeped in. But you do not own me. I can still recall the first time I frantically searched for a sharp object in all the clutter, just trying to make myself distasteful to you. But you ignored the blood dripping from my thighs, dismissed the warning signs as if you were colorblind. Nothing could stop your calloused hands and feeble mind. Years later, your pressure still stands heavy on my heart. I labeled myself as damaged goods. But I am a ******* work of art. And I can’t undo what you did but I can use my voice to speak on the pain you’ve caused me. To raise awareness for those still suffering. You did not stunt my growth because I am in full bloom. I will not let you define a single part of me. I will grow as you regress. As you destruct everything you come in contact with. I will touch people and I will make jaws drop. I will be someone. Just watch me.

“Be gentle.”
The thing about being a woman
is that you are taught to be
gentle
but not how to navigate a world
that will NOT treat you gently.
I’ve spent my life being
Stepped all over
Like a **** doormat.
We’re taught
It’s weak and feminine
To be gentle.
The gentle ones
Are the ones we should truly applaud
For they have found ways
To love
In a world that
Can be
So ugly.
I once hated
How my heart feels
It’s as big as this planet
But I now realize
I can love in ways that
Others can not
And while I may
Have been hurt
Often because of
this, I will embrace it.
It’s a blessing,
Not a curse.


“Don’t raise your voice.”
On Saturday,
my coach told me he could hear me
from where he was standing
and he was feet away.
He meant it as a joke,
I even laughed to hide the hurt.
I’ve been told I’m loud
For most of my life
And everyone always thinks
It’s hilarious to point out
But it’s not.
It ******* hurts.
It gets old being told,
“Lower your voice”
“Be quiet”
“God, you’re so loud”
It’s like a broken record,
One I would like to never
Hear again.
My voice is a loud roar
And it’s powerful.
I won’t apologize
For the way in which
It rings through your ears.
I feel things strongly,
I express it through
My voice.
There is no mute button
And I will be heard.

“You should probably cover up.”
I was 13
The first time I was shamed
For the clothes I wore.
In middle school,
I was stuck in a classroom
With other girls in the school.
Because our shorts were too short.
I felt suffocated.
I wanted to cry.
The walls were bland and gray,
Why me?
There was just no way
I could be in the same space
As a boy
And him be able to control myself
While my legs were out in the open
For him to see.
Like, ****.  
My shirt couldn’t be slouched off my shoulder,
Either.
Because you know that’s what
Really gets boys GOING!
Legs and ******* shoulder blades,
For God’s sake.
We instill these expectations
Into young girl’s minds
Not realizing the damage,
The daggers were throwing
At their little hearts.
I grew older
And I was still being told what to wear.
“Are you sure you should wear that?”
I had to be careful what I wore out
Otherwise a guy may think of it as
Permission to ***** and grab.
I’m not a piece of meat,
I’m not YOUR girl,
I’m not anyone to you
But that doesn’t mean
You shouldn’t respect me
For who I am,
A human being
With feelings.


“Oh, honey… He’s just mean to you because he likes you.”
A boy threw sand at me when I was 7.
It got in my eyes
And all over my new pretty dress.
All I wanted to do was cry but
I was told he did it because he liked me.
We love those who hurt us
Because when we were young
We were told this meant they liked us.
It changes as we grow older,
It’s no longer thrown sand
And playful touches.
It becomes something bigger,
Something scarier than the
Monsters that you thought
Were under your bed.
Loud screams.
Slaps.
Threats.
A black eye here,
A cut there.
You look in the mirror
And you swear you’ve
Never looked more terrible.
A lack of control.
A lack of sleep.
But, but,
He does this
Because he loves me.
Weak and trapped.
You can’t escape
Because he’s all you
Know.
Where do you go?
Love wasn’t supposed to feel like
This.


“She was asking for it.”
She had a bit to drink.
She’s feeling loose and happy.
You complimented her and
Her eyes lit up.
She’s moving closer to you,
Trusting you.
One thing leads to another
And next thing you know,
There you are,
in the bedroom.
She’s not sure if she wants this
But her clothes come off
Quick like a glove.
You’ve got her right where
You want her.
You go with it
Because how could you resist
The twinkle in her eyes
And those thighs?
Things are a bit blurred
For her
And when she realizes what you’ve done,
She’ll feel cheated and robbed
For you stole something so valuable.
Before people
Ask why you did this to her,
They’ll ask what she was wearing
And what she had to drink.
Was her shirt cut low?
Was she drunk?
How unfortunate this is.
Her life will never be
The
Same,
Changed
For…
ever.

I will unapologetically be the woman I am
I will be tough
I will raise my voice
I will wear what makes me love the skin I’m in
I will walk away
I will love myself
I will fight against **** culture

When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale ***,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave
All the green leaved little weddings' wives
In the coal black bush and let them grieve.

When I was a gusty man and a half
And the black beast of the beetles' pews
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of *******),
Not a boy and a bit in the wick-
Dipping moon and drunk as a new dropped calf,
I whistled all night in the twisted flues,
Midwives grew in the midnight ditches,
And the sizzling sheets of the town cried, Quick!-
Whenever I dove in a breast high shoal,
Wherever I ramped in the clover quilts,
Whatsoever I did in the coal-
Black night, I left my quivering prints.

When I was a man you could call a man
And the black cross of the holy house,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of welcome),
Brandy and ripe in my bright, bass prime,
No springtailed tom in the red hot town
With every simmering woman his mouse
But a hillocky bull in the swelter
Of summer come in his great good time
To the sultry, biding herds, I said,
Oh, time enough when the blood runs cold,
And I lie down but to sleep in bed,
For my sulking, skulking, coal black soul!

When I was half the man I was
And serve me right as the preachers warn,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of downfall),
No flailing calf or cat in a flame
Or hickory bull in milky grass
But a black sheep with a crumpled horn,
At last the soul from its foul mousehole
Slunk pouting out when the limp time came;
And I gave my soul a blind, slashed eye,
Gristle and rind, and a roarers' life,
And I shoved it into the coal black sky
To find a woman's soul for a wife.

Now I am a man no more no more
And a black reward for a roaring life,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of strangers),
Tidy and cursed in my dove cooed room
I lie down thin and hear the good bells jaw--
For, oh, my soul found a sunday wife
In the coal black sky and she bore angels!
Harpies around me out of her womb!
Chastity prays for me, piety sings,
Innocence sweetens my last black breath,
Modesty hides my thighs in her wings,
And all the deadly virtues plague my death!

written April 5, 2015

"Downing whisky like it's medicine
Downing sleeping pills like it's my life
I need someone to come along and make everything right
My mind is distorted when you're not around
I'm terribly mistaken and constantly feeling down
Most might see me as moved on
Truth is I still haven't grasped that you're gone
It hits me at times when I'm all alone
Or times where I'm out, away from home
But the times that cause the most amount of pain
Is the days where I hear 'he won't change'
Because you were my everything, why can't you see?
I ******* love you Alex
I made that easy to perceive"

4am and my eyes are killing me,
and I'm dull and sore and ****.
****. ****. ****. ****.

Leaning against an arcade booth
of Street Fighter 2 watching them
dance in green lazer lights.
We decided to go back to her friend's place.

Her friend got wine,
he got beer.
He ****** in the bushes.
Admitted he was drunk.

On the roof of her friend's apartment,
I ****** down a cold coffee,
and we played acoustic music.
We climbed higher on the roof.
They smoked and drank,
and just generally shot the ****.

Something bad happened between him and her;
she ran off crying, he's calling her a child, a baby.
He's pretending he's not mad,
pretending he's in control of his emotions
while lashing out.
Throws a beer bottle,
decides to leave. She
practically begs him for a ride home.
Me and her friend want so badly for her
to stay. Stay.
She leaves with him.
Drunk and ******, to drive her home.
I start walking home soon after.

I get lost on a street.
It's 2am and I'm jumping up and down
waving my hands, trying to get someone
to just tell me where I am.
A man across the street must be taking out garbage,
I walk across the street and say, "Excuse me sir?"
He shouts, "No! Go back across the street! NO!"
like I'm a ******* wild animal.
I ask him, "Can you just tell me where Bluestone is?"
He tells me to go north.
His input is useless.
I hope he dies of pancreatic cancer.

I kick a can and yell, "**** all of you, collectively!"
to the suburban nightmare I'm trapped in.
"I hope they nuke this ******* **** stain neighborhood!"
Kick an empty Arizona can in contempt and disgust.

I have a small monologue with myself
and almost break down on the sidewalk.

Walk back to practically where I came from,
and take the long way home.
On my way I pass a stranger who asks, "Dig?"
No ******* idea what they meant.
I dodge the skunks and grab a hubcap.
Wanted a trinket.
I think I'm gonna have a ******* aneurism.

An off duty cop
Walks into this
Bar
He has no badge
No uniform
He is no cop now
He's friends
With a young
Paramedic
Who drinks the
Guilt away
They stay till
Last call
And ask for some shots
To share with
The bartender
The cop wants to say
A few
Words
'To another life wasted
To another one shot
To another one dead
To another shot'
Then the paramedic
'To two good men gone
To blood on  my hands
To the lawyers health
To another day gone'
The bartender had
A few words to say
'To tomorrow night
To the many cabbies
To the few how choose safe
To another shot'
When they've drunk
Their fill
The two friends left
In the cab
Waiting out front
That got hit by
A drunk driver
Who they spent
Last call with
To another drink
**To another phone call

V. Ethereal

Maybe being drunk
is the closest I will
ever get to zero gravity--
to walking on the moon.

My fingers curled
around the neck of a liquor bottle,  
I wander to my bedroom window,
as a tipsy weightlessness settles
amongst my limbs
(and my thoughts).

Swaying slightly,
I part the curtains and,
in my intoxicated stupor,
search for Polaris in the night sky,
point to it,
press a clumsy hand to the glass,
convince myself that
I have captured the star,
and all the omniscient power
it possesses,
beneath my finger tips.

Star light,

{lips pant--
inebriated,
heavy}

star bright,

{my breath appears a catalyst
as the window pane glazes over
in an impenetrable paroxysm of fog}

first star I see tonight,

{I take a swig,
raise the bottle--
a toast
to the cosmos}

I wish I may,

{Lashes meet in
silent matrimony}

I wish I might,

{Behind closed, desperate eyes,
ribbons of colour dance
towards me in a disoriented jig}

have this wish I wish tonight--

to be
obliterated by the very galaxy
that birthed
these grieving bones
and this tumultuous heart.

Because only then--
as the Gods paint the Night
with the innards of my soul,
acrylic purples
churning against the blackness--
will I become what I
have always dreamed
of becoming:

Lovely.

Ethereal.

Poetry: A lot like wine.
Can’t drink too much,
Nor all the time,
Each wine unique -
A different taste
Sip.      It.      Slowly ……
Don’t drink in haste
Try one with a fruity flavor,  
Or maybe it’s a dry you savor,
Sample all the current trends,
Don’t be afraid to share with friends.
So all us wannabe sommeliers
Can compare it to the Bordelaise!
Don’t be content - Experiment.
Try something new!
Tasting should be fun to do!
And like the rarest of all wines
Good poetry endures through time.
Phil Lindsey  5/16/15

Celebrations
mutual congratulations
and a fair flowing stream
of a liquid dream
lead by the nose
to animated fun
and a phone call.

As the tone rang
I blinked
and the sky grew dark
an instant eclipse of the day.

Gripped,
a cold hand of fear on my shoulder
I blinked
and flicked  through channel after channel
frantic
panicked searching for news
of the disaster.
What had happened
to make all the lights go out?

I remember
a clock
flashing wrong time
some two hours passed
in the moment it took
to close my eyes.


But nothing
no reports no pictures no screaming people running for the hills
like wild horses
no-one knew.

Only I (lonely I)
all on my own
I knew. Something was wrong.

How else could I spend
no time
talking to You for two hours
and saying nothing at all?

(And ’66 became ’87 without anyone noticing…)

On a Tuesday afternoon
we are all in one place so
an outing is long over-due.
Let’s go out for drinks, I suggest
and we agree—as long as we can wear whatever.

On a Tuesday night
I pick the girls up, avidly
avoiding the gaze of your window
in a building forced to live above you.

In Geronimo’s on a Tuesday night
I order ‘Red Sun’, she orders ‘Spicy Blood Orange’
& the other orders wine.
Mine is pink—it’s too strong, no more please.
Well you said ‘for drinks’! they complain
as if I’ve betrayed a pact.

She orders another, ‘Appaloosa Sangria’
and she’s so tiny when the waitress looks at my full glass
—Embarrassing.
I hate the sliding bathroom door where I am
alone with my thoughts for 2.7 minutes but
I’m antsy—time to go

In my Audi on a Tuesday night
I want dessert; I want a donut.
Dunkin it is.

In Dunkin Donuts on a Tuesday night
Tiny tells me she wants to cuddle
sometimes. She’s drunk.
I order a chocolate glazed donut to a poor man with Hispanic features
who is working alone
The homeless lady won’t stop talking and we wont stop laughing
in the Dunkin bathroom.
I heard everything, she says as we leave and giggle in terror.

In my Audi on a late Tuesday night
I don’t want to go back to school yet—I have an idea.
Post Road is empty; I’m hyper-aware
of the black Dodge pick-up driving past.
I don’t question if it’s you.
Did you see me?
Of course you saw me, my car is
unavoidable; it’s **** & white.

In The Grape on a late Tuesday night
there is no one I know so I trail
Wine and Tiny trails me.
I know friends of friends, say Hi, hi, hi
You look cute, so do you! Yay! hug Okay bye, bye, bye
Tiny drinks another with Wine and I’m still
sober where I want to be,
making memories without you, ha.
But it’s time to go back to hellhole and these people kinda ****.

In my Audi for the last time on a late Tuesday night
Mahan lot full, duh.
Quick Center lot full, duh.
Bellarmine lot full, ****!
Regis lot—Where’s your car? It’s got to be here . . .
black Dodge pick-up backed in nicely, I wish I could park beside.
What did you do on a Tuesday night?
Regis lot full, are you kidding?
Tiny has motion sickness, she’s quite a drag
I wonder if my friend nearby, with the golf cart, can drive us back
But **** it, we can walk ten minutes in the cold ‘cuz
I’ve got my jacket and gloves.

In McInnes on a late Tuesday night
Wine goes to bed, Tiny calls for a reinforcement
who is waiting at our door.
Questions with an upward inflection fill my bedroom as if she can’t
take care of herself—her support can barely support himself.
I write a long note to you on my computer on my bed because you ****.
I get a Do you mind if Support sleeps over just this once to make sure I’m okay? text
Which means I won’t get sleep due to overweight heavy breathing
Fine, I’m backed into a corner.
& I know that after my third attempt of slumber, I will end up crying
on the couch in the living room. I should have stayed home.

On an early Wednesday morning
I stuff a bag of clothes, my retainer case, and Berner & Holes and
I power-walk to my car in Jogues—7 minutes, probably or less
& drive the 5 minutes home before the tears fall.
There’s a cop parked beside Pine Creek Deli,
I wonder if he wonders why an Audi is up so late.

In [address] on an early Wednesday morning
my dad is in his boxers in the middle of the stairs.
What are you doing? he asks and I snap back because
Isn’t it obvious what someone would be doing at 2:43 am?
My bed is quiet and my mind is loud wondering—
Did you have fun tonight? for the both of us.

Yes, you are gorgeous
Makes me love drunk all day
How you are gorgeous you asked?
Words can't even give a brief explanation

Your gorgeousness
Is beyond this world
Something I never seen
Never to be detected in the milky way
Deflecting every radio waves

Your gorgeousness
Is something that cannot be seen
By the naked eye
Reflecting every traces of light
Causing internal reflection
Forming rainbows around the sky

Your gorgeousness
Is poison
Kills me inside and out
Accelerates the drums of my heartbeat
Nearing me to my dear grave

Yes, you are gorgeous
Can it be true?
I'm not sure if it is affecting everyone else
But, I guarantee you
I have fallen head over heels for you

lemme feel eternity
keep me drunk
keep ma eyes half-closed
so I'll see, only you

My Prince Charming has turned into an ugly, old toad,
but that’s what happens when you choose this road.

The road so traveled by all the toads before;
makes me wonder what you see at the *****’s door.

I would think by now it would be rotten and smell,
but that’s not where my thoughts will dwell.

Why are they always uglier than me?
It can’t be because you like what you see.

Is it because the ****** like to drink beer?
Or is it because they’ll **** on your spear?

You’d think by now all of you would have warts.
You know the kind that stays in your shorts.

You think you’re so handsome, have you looked in the mirror?
One day soon they won’t let you get nearer.


But by then you will not make me cry
and they’ll look like they were put up wet to dry.

They may be younger but you keep getting older.
What will you do when you get the cold shoulder?

What will they do when you run out of money?
I bet they won’t think that it’s very funny.

Or how about when the pills are all done?
I bet a fight will be caused over that one.

Nothing like pill-head ****** to ***** around with.
To get them drunk, does it take a fifth?

An eight ball of coke, that ought to do it.
When it’s all gone I bet you don’t get in it.

I may have been with you through thick and thin,
but I ain’t touching that warty skin.

We did have magic for so many years,
but that was before the coke and beer.

One day I’ll see you all and grin.
For you’ll have caught the clap: what a payback for sins.

The beaten path is hardest to go alone but it makes one stronger. One never wants to admit to oneself that misery is the predecessor to change, ushering it like the pilot ushers the plane down upon the runway.  This is a new destination you'd never have known. That is why we go up and then down, otherwise you wouldn't care for clouds. They'd be like stop signs posted on every street of every town you can't escape from. Don't you think whales like to take a dip in our atmosphere with the same exhilaration we dive down into their ocean? Marine life has it's trials, it all seems so buoyant and peacful, but its another jungle down there. Beautiful until you live it and predators lurk every corner and algae field. Everyone eating the next guy, if its your residence, it is no vacation. Its not so simple just cuz they've not got rent to pay and corrupt politics. Babies on the way while no financial burden make most species crazy. Try being a single mother just trying to keep your kids well enough hidden just to go off to find good eats for them. They have very emotional lives out there, full of pain and suffering. If whales could get drunk, mermaids would charge and set up breweries. But the ocean would dilute any profits, and two tons of blubber each would call demand too high and so whales throw themselves into our world just to escape. They could gulp the air so low key, surfacing like submarines, instead they splash mountains with their ferve, the same way we get down, tossing cares across dance floors. And we wonder why when  they take a breath, they reach for the sky, they just want to be free, where nothing of their world can touch them. And we wonder why when it's not enough, they just give up, just like us. Massive escapists desensitizing to the joys in the depths of their waters. We wonder why we find them so sad layed up on our beaches, you see it in their despondent eye. They just want to die in that memory of exhiliration. One. Last. Time. But they're not happy. Cuz they were always chasing a high that fleetingly springed them from all worry. They lay knowing its the last time and they wonder what's gonna become of them when its all over. They just figure what lays on the otherside, or even nothing has got to be better. Maybe they're right,  or maybe all the off kilter chemicals got the better of them. Full moons got them all emotional just like us, gravity pulling all their painful memories to the surface, pulling them up out of the ocean all hopeless. Shoot maybe some of them dont even mean it, they were just so tired of the krill or baby seal murda life, or sharks poaching their babies and needed longer and longer til oneday they got too sleepy and the tide snuck down too low. Like when I pass out in the shower when it's hot enough, I swear I was about to get out..then, ****. Maybe that's why they're so ******* sad. They didn't mean for it to be over, they just got caught up in that feeling. I bet the old ones though go on purpose, just to spite the sharks that took their babies out they'd rather rot in the sea breeze they loved. Or maybe they're so depressed at the loss of their child they just want it to be over. They carry their babies in their bellies just like us, I bet they get depressed like us or the smarter dogs. Being a whale, or any sober creature can be very hard, but at least if you're not running from it, you might see through the storm for the beauty of its strength, releasing fear to just stand in awe of it. You can learn to cope with pain in at least better measure to sprinting in laps, without intention, you're just on the track, even if its as vast as the pacific, adriatic, atlantic, doesnt matter all the waters you cross, they all just ran back into themselves. See, the whale can only cope, no emotional escape route, so no matter what comes, whale is miles wiser. Their calls sound a little sad but so hauntingly beautiful. Do not beach yourself humans, in your little ways everyday. Stop feeding this disbelief in yourself. You were given this brain to choose to overcome this pain, to communicate in new ways. If you get tired of something just cuz you're used to it, you've done fell off your rock, you slipped to drown in your own riptide, to get pummeled to death. Or as my Papa woulda said, you're not playing with a full deck. You drown in intoxicant, whatever your vice, liquor, uppers, downers, shopping, food, flirting, ******* to numb life's beating. You're running from sobriety, from reality, from those people you don't love anymore cuz they can't jive with your illusions. You'll look for every reason why your psyches not the problem. If you'd not only accept but seek the need to heal,  you wouldn't need constant change of scenery just to feel something, to feel snippets of sanity, mini vacations from your daily miseries. New people, places and substances are just so exhilarating, cuz you can't handle yourself. If you could, each listed above would be blessings of oneness, not necessity. Running is only blocking your life from mattering as much as it should. You squander potential wandering in circles inside yourself. I smoked **** habitually since I was twelve, it didn't really hurt me right, just my dump trucked loads of brain cells? Wrong! Sobriety is the hardest but most rewarding excursion so far. I delight everyday in the opportunities I can receive just cuz I can think so clearly. I have an occasional shot or glass of wine with coworkers and think God I feel good. Then go home and think and plot, how can I attain that joy without consuming a dollar, compromising my body?  How can I be so at home in my skin that I don't need that just to feel like this?  I'll let you know if I ever figure it out. It's the big ******* mystery, isn't it. I THINK my point is,  we would never know what's so good to be cherished if we always had it made. They call it a beautiful struggle, and i really think they're onto God with that one. Wherever your feet lay, next time you look down at them in dismay, remember your pain is the best teacher you never had to pay.  It makes you great, it makes you an epic ******* trilogy of the past present and future.  You'll get through this day, I promise you. Whatever it proves to be to you, I pray oneday you hold the kingdom. Oneday you'll praise yourself for holding on. Oneday you'll stop running. You'll just wake up and feel at home inside yourself how the wise whale makes peace with the ocean. Tempering the binges to the surface. As above so below. You just have to find the thrill within the hand you're dealt and make yourself better for it.

A lyrical poem about King Midas,how everything he touched turned to gold,and how he learned not to be greedy.


This is the tale of an ancient king
   Who loved all thing that pleasure brings
Who as a babe asleep in bed
     A trail of ants marched to his lips and fed
The young prince as he lay asleep
   With the choicest grains of wheat


Midas grew and gathered wealth
    With which he might enjoy himself
But aside from wealth, his fingers were green
    To he loved to prune and **** and clean -his garden,
every sort of rose
    He planted there and he watched them grow.


One day the old satyr- Silenus
   The teacher and friend of young Dionysus
Had straggled, drunken, from the crowd
    And staggering lost and singing aloud
he slept  off the wine in Midas’ Garden
    And  better pray that Midas gives him Pardon


Silenus woke and by guard was brought    Before Midas in the palace court
"What brings you here?" asked the King,
     I would like to know
‘Did you harm any of my roses.?’
     You didn’t !? Then Silenus. Take your pleasure
And dine and drink to double measure !

So Silenus,the lucky, old fun loving Satyr
    Grew steadily more drunk and fatter
All merrily the old soul chaffed
       King Midas who with him laughed
And when both had ate and drank their sate
    Silenus did this tale relate:

And he told a story to the king
    Of lands where he said he'd  been travelling
perhaps yarns spun from his dreams ?!
   of lands beyond the oceans stream
-peopled by folk of long life and health
    with very vast amounts of wealth !!  :)

Now Midas listened good and well
   To all Silenus had to tell
And when the story
   Came to end
He said: " please do point the way, my friend "
   For though Midas had more wealth than he would ever need
He was overcome by greed




So he sent ships and many men
   To sail the hyperborean
With eager, brave intent to find
   A land that perhaps  existed only in Silenus’ mind
And since no such place was found by Midas’ men
   They turned his ships
And sailed home again

Silenus loved to loaf around
   All day about the palace grounds
He grew indolent he was so lazy
    He  ate and drank all he could see
He thought” This is the life, great  stuff !
    But by now the king  had had enough !!


By this time  the lord Dionysus
   Was much concerned for his lost friend Silenus
Though not far  need he search or  roam
   For King Midas sent the old man home
And most pleased was the young god-boy
    For Silenus was his favourite friend and joy

So Dionysus conveyed  his gratitude to the king
    Does Lord Midas require anything ?
For the Lord Dionysus will grant
    Anything the king may want
And so the messenger was told
   May all that Midas touch be turned to gold




And all that Midas touched upon
Turned to gold and brightly shone
Midas’ table and his throne
   And all the contents of his home
And soon he had turned everyone
   To gold
Even his wife and sons

All this wealth it brought no good
   For Midas could not drink nor eat his food
Not a morsel could be ate
   But all turned to gold upon his plate
Golden fruits and golden meat
   Golden wine and golden wheat


And so the days they did pass by
    And a very hungered king did cry
That he did not want
    No he could not stand
His golden stores of treasure grand
    for he was hungry,thirsty, weak and dry
And not a morsel could that treasure buy

The poor king Midas he did sigh
   If he did not eat he soon would die
Alone he blubbered in despair
   He cursed himself and tore his hair
He could not stand it any more
   So he crawled half dead to Dionysus's  door

So thirsty, famished, very thin
   Midas begged Dionysus to release him
From the blessing that had become his curse
    For what fate could be any worse
Midas begged, he cried implored
   That life be restored
As it were before


The god he drank
   Deeply carousing
He found the matter quire amusing
    But although he laughed at Midas suffering
He had some compassion for the king
    He said “ I hope you have learned your lesson well
The king  listened to what he had to tell

At the source of the river Pactolus
   Near the mount of Tmolus
There you may drink and wash yourself
    And be restored to natural health
And all your golden treasures stored
    Shall all become as they were before

So Midas journeyed west to seek
   The water spring near the mountains peak
His thirst was as a burning flame
   But travelling onward soon he came
Upon the mountain
   When he saw it’s water
He broke down and cried with tears and laughter

They say that Midas was so relieved
    That never again did he ever greed
He learned that his greatest treasure was his life
   His good health, his sons and wife

The sands of the river Pactolus some say -  Are golden to this very day

I can’t stand that I can’t understand
Why my heart heaved its contents into your content hands,
Tearstains dripping through my fingers as we [danced].
I remember the days I’d [collapse] in crowded streets,
Because my heart would [skip] too many beats.
Then you’d [spin me], kiss my cheeks and whisper
Something sweet about my [feet’s] defeat.
But I knew then that I couldn’t [keep rhythm],
So I must’ve suffered from heart failure.

And once you left in October, and my soul was sober
Not drunk on my tears,
I would wonder what could’ve persuaded you to stay,
But once my heart attempted a [pirouette]
I no longer questioned my place.
.. I don’t know if you watched after that,
But I’m sure you saw the {snowprints} I’d leave in your yard,
My only way of telling you that I hated being my own {saving grace},
Because a {fallen angel} drops too hard.

But icicles hung from your eyelids that winter,
And splintered your vision.
Looking back, I believe you cried as much as I did,
And the tears froze across your eyes.
Because you never looked me in the eye as our minds ran to pieces
As we raced to find peace with ourselves.

You spun me for a loop,
My skull kissing paintball splattered remains of my left and right brain
As they bled all over themselves,
Knocking my sanity off of the shelves
In an attempt to explain whether love is history,
Or chemistry,
And I didn’t want to ponder the prospects
So paper was my band-aid fix all.
I wrapped my mind around it,
Concealed my soul beneath my words,
Until I was my own mummified form,
Too afraid to rip them off.
Because what if nothing had healed at all?
I rotted beneath my façade.
My smiley face band-aids the only hands of happiness that hugged me for
Months,
And I
Sunk
Into depression,
Not unlike this current recession,
Not knowing where my silver lining would be;
Wondering if it would come only when withered lines worked their way across my cheeks,
A gray hairline visible in the sun,
As proof my time had come,
To be happy.

But something better came sooner with the rains of May,
And a new boy painted smiles back onto my face.
Removing the bandages that had bruised my body,
And punctured the skin of my poetry.
So I was free to bleed again,
With fresh pieces to breathe in.

Was it happiness, or freedom that flushed my cheeks?
Or was it the uncomfortable spider that would weave my stomach in knots
As another part of me was lost
To the boy who painted my peace
For a price?

I didn’t mean to hand so much to him, love,
But a measure of pleasure came with a cost,
And at some point my beliefs were tossed to scatter in the wind,
And the spider of guilt in my stomach sunk its teeth right in,
Sadness seeping through my veins,
The venom of regret.

Because you were the only one who ever held all of me and none of me at the same time,
Who never asked for what I claimed to be mine.
All of me was yours,
Even the things you never asked for
Were stamped with your name for a future date.
But mail gets intercepted sometimes,
And my contents were spread
Before someone I hardly knew
And I-
Missed-
You…

Because you never asked for too much to touch or too much of my love
I loved you the only way I was able to.
And now…
I’m just a tainted tin can on the side of the street.
And I know you don’t have use for me,
But I’ll do my best to undo the dents of my past.
All I know is that yesterday you told me you hate it when I don’t say what’s on my mind.
But my tongue was a sponge that soaked up the ways that I’ve wanted to say
That I’m sorry.

And I’ve skipped my own beats for a year and a half,
Letting my turn to tell you I yearn for you pass
Right over
In an endless drum roll.
But-
I feel a –rhythmic- rattle-
In my –beaten-aluminum-body
As your footsteps
[Stop].
Please.
Don’t let me suffer for my heart failure.

Men speak to them in the language of sweets
even their names,
sound like french delicacy
They drink from a flute of love-notes and make-believe
with a dash of sugar
and melancholy
An effervescent taste
is all it takes
for them to lose themselves
and lose track of time and space

They are the masters of treachery
ensnaring hearts of strangers
beguiling innocent minds
But mostly of all
deceiving themselves

They get drunk on the possibility
of escaping reality
perpetually

Alas,
it is inevitable
that the time will come
When reality will welcome them
with less than warm and welcoming arms

Nicotine filled lungs
Cherry stained lips
An ephemeral flame
if only they didn’t exist

Behind their dulcet tones
of eloquence and sweet-nothings
lies a heavier dread
that their saccharine smiles,
a dalliance of lies
attempt to dismiss

For it is only
behind this facade of
vacancy, vanity, and vacuous deception
That they can unwind and forget
even if its only
momentarily

For it is only then
when they
let slip their bitter past
forget about their pungent present
and masquerade for their tasteless future

“Here, have a drink,” A man slurred.
A tall, red, plastic cup of heavy smelling alcohol hovered in front of me, like a moth around the flickering flame of a candle.
The cup laughed in my face and dared me to grab it; the peer pressure pouring off of the drunk’s lips was like a buzzing fly that wouldn’t leave me alone.
“No thanks,” I told him.
“C’mon, it’s just one drink.”
I sighed, because I’d been down this road before.
Because just one drink can’t hurt anything, right?
It’s just one.
One that allows a drunken ******* who otherwise has no control over women besides offering ‘just one drink.’
But the flashback that started playing inside my head was a movie screen that felt like a drive-in film where everyone was welcome to watch.
Except they couldn’t.
These drunken “friends” on the TV inside my head who I’d been with a few months ago had wandered off with their own boyfriends, leaving me
Stranded and vulnerable, like a car on the side of the highway without any flashing hazard lights warning other drivers that I was parked there.
They abandoned me.
And who knows how long I would have been stranded until a car decided to pull over and approach my vehicle, tow straps to carry me away.
But he didn’t save me from the other passing cars. Instead, he hauled me around a sharp curve of the long stretch of road,
Left me as a wide open target for his own truck to smash into me, leaving me broken and battered, with no witnesses to call the police, an ambulance or a fire truck.
I was left all alone, bleeding and scarred in the dark curve of the highway where this drunken driver escaped without a single bruise or tear on his body, unlike my own.
“It’s just one drink.” The intoxicated stranger pried at me again, feeling his question burn into me like a red light that just wouldn’t turn green.
“No,” I said and turned away from the drunk.
It was the first time I said no to the smell of dark liquor and whatever was hiding beneath and dissolved into the liquid that was harbored in the tall, red cup.
I said no to being victim again to a ******* drug.

Sue Venir loved Hugh Biquitous, but he was unreliable, so she confided this to her friend, Di Namic who confirmed he’d been seen with Penny Farthing and Miss Chevous. Then she ran into Ken Tucky, who’d just broken up with Jen Erator, and was known to hang with Mel N. Choly. Together, they and Dan Ube went to a party thrown by Perry Winkle at the house of Dana Point.

Con Valescence introduced Sue to Marine Layer who asked Mr. Tucky to join the conversation, and they’ve been conversing ever since. Lou Kemia couldn’t make the party as he was ill. This was confirmed by Nick Knack who’d been informed by Conrad Alert.

Penny Saver left early, heading over to the home of I. Stan Bul, who was throwing a celebration in honor of Hazel Nuts and Grant N. Aid, who were to be married by Will Power, though Miss Givings, his former girlfriend, did not approve. Celebrants included Buzz Saw, Ma Larkey, Ben E. Diction, ***** Pack and of course Ann I. Versary, who deemed it worthy of being remembered. Tom Foolery was always good for a laugh, which was appreciated by Art I. Face, Dee Vice and Tess Osterone.

Some chose to dine alfresco, notably Flora Fauna, Heidi **, and Ed U. Cate. Barb Ituate was a downer, though Ma Larkey tried to cheer her up, watched by Cliff Hanger who wanted to see what happened, until a dispute arose between Ana Conda and Ann Ticipation, who’d both been vying for the attention of Billy Goat.

Meanwhile, in another part of town, Terry Dactyl was in a dispute with Billy Club over Lilly White because of something Miss Conception had reported after hearing from that duo, Caesar Salad and Reuben Sandwich.

Junior Mints tried to mollify the situation with sugary statements, but was interrupted by Yuri Nal, who said he had to go, and then left with Jay Walking and they were off to congregate with Diane Tomeetya.

At the next table General Jive held court in a warlike mood,  that Cary Cature tried to lighten.  With them were Tex Arcana, whose accent was amusing to Bill Collector, Al Gorythm, Tim Buktu and Marv E. Lous, who always had a great time wherever he went.

By then, Bobby Pin, the luscious seamstress, had given up on Peter D. Out, after seeing him clowning around with Butch Wax and Slim N. None, all of them malcontents and disrupters.

In walked Daisy Chain, newly arrived  from the Southern Hemisphere, along with Sydney Australia. Klaus Trophobic had initially agreed to travel with the two of them, but said he had to stay at home. Frank O’Phile overhead this and confided to Phil O’Sophically that there is sometimes merit to such position.

The restaurant was owned by Ty ****, managed by Chuck Wagon, with the food delivered by waiters Clay *** and Terry Aki , assisted by busboyTara Misou.

The next morning, everyone gathered at the home of Dawn Patrol, who was there with her new husband, Earnest Money, after divorcing Perry Mutual. Deb Enture was her maid of honor.  Nick O’Time was nearly late to the party, driving in with Stu Debaker, via a shaky Uber driver named Manuel Shifting.

Al Acrity was his usual sunny self, but not when Den O’Thieves interrupted his conversation, which was shut down by Kay O.

Sherman Oaks and Van Nuys were late, having gotten mixed up on the location. Cliff Hanger was worried about the falling stock market, and as a result was getting drunk with Jack Daniels. Stan Dup was his usually assertive self, but was overshadowed by the always munificent Cy Pres.

Claude Hopper was dressed in yesterdays’ styles, but that didn’t matter to Dov Tail who  was going into business with Matt Chabox, known for his incendiary personality. They had two other partners to round the group out, **** Ular and Ben E. Fit.

Gar Gantuan loomed large, and was unstable when paired with Mo Mentum, who said in such situations, they needed to involve Otto Matic.

Terry Cloth was wrapped around Jan U. Ary, ogled by Barbie Queue and Coleman Lantern.

Take me higher than I’ve ever been
Show me what it’s like to love someone’s body
As much as their being
Prove to me that passion exists
In the places we least expect

I want to feel the syncopation of your heartbeat as it’s pressed against my bare chest
Lost in the rhythm of my moans
I’m needing to feel every inch of your skin on mine
Your hot breath against my neck
Your scattered sighs in my ear
Your teeth grazing my neck in ecstacy

I want your tongue to tease my *******
Hardening them in between licks
As I beg you not to stop
Drunk on euphoria

My hands exploring the indentation of your hip bones,
Carefully caressing the line of your waistband
Feeling your breath shorten
Anticipating my next move

The cadence of our bodies moving as one
Our limbs contorting in positions I didn’t know existed
The curves of my body made to fit yours so perfectly
Ravishing the spiral of your movements
Wishing this could last just a little longer

Jesus Christ, Lord Almighty
     Expel my demons and watch them die with me
Satan Lord, Leviathan
     Give my demons an interesting origin
Plague me with poets smoking joints rolled with rejected poems
     Fill my thoughts with cockney accented thespians
Let them hold Academy award nominations from films long forgotten
     Enthuse my self-destruction
Bring me goth kids brought up in wholesome homes
Bring me Art school students choosing to abandon their degrees
Bring me women aroused by smashed clocks
Bring me men aroused by awkward teenagers
Bring me Christians questioning their faith
     Lord Almighty, God, Yahweh, Jehovah
Tell me the story of your disagreements with Vishnu
     Let me see Moloch's disgruntlement and subsequent drunk and disorderly
Show me when Hera was seducing your nephew
     Bring me into the world of the soap opera battles
Write to me Paris
Write to me Paris
     I want to read your poetry
     I want to read your mind
Sing to me Helen
Embrace me and we shall escape from torments
    Heavenly and humane
We shall watch hipsters walk past us
Smoking Spirits and drinking poison berry teas
     Let Adam grow disgruntled
     Let children laugh
If, Lord Jesus, you grant me my wish
    Send me a djinn with evil in his heart
Who's bound to be annoyed by my desires
    Send me an ent to lift me above my world
Send me an elf to love me for all my time
    Send me a mountain to travel over home
Transport me to Germany
Transport me to Spain
Transport me to New Zealand
Give me a free pass, one-way ticket to Darwin's islands
    Write my story so that I collect new, unprecedented species
And devour the flesh of my find
Hide me in Antarctica with a monstrous creation of my own mind
Let me eat
Let me gorge
Then starve me
    Show me Caligula
    Show me Marilyn Monroe
    Then leave me with Ed Wood
And force me to watch his films so that I may inherit my grandfather's fortune in comic books
    Which, of course, will bring her to love me again
Oh Lord Jesus
Lord of Hosts
Possess me so that I may live again

Prince Niou had removed himself from Kaoru’s company and the warmth of the wood-burning stove. Under the shelter of the steep karawa eaves he stood to watch the snow, to watch it fall, fall relentlessly, relentlessly. But for the biting cold he might have been watching the blossoms fall and scatter, those intricate, delicate flowers that, as you looked up at them in the trees, were in tessellation with the sky. It was Kisaragi (late February) when winter shows little sign that spring might appear. So now the time of deep snows in the mountain fastness where Kaoru’s family estates straddled part of the necessary journey from Edo to Kyoto.
 
The snowfall mesmerized Niou. It held such a purity of disordered motion, He stretched out his arm to feel the soft touch of the flakes on his embroidered sleeve. He imagined Ukifune’s touch would be like that of this falling snow, a pattering of fingers, a sweep of her long, long hair. She, Kaoru’s mistress, had left earlier in the afternoon to journey safely across the mountain passes to her lakeside home before the heavy snow fall set in. He had been close witness to Kaoru’s passion for this delicate flower picked from across the mountains to grace his country house his wife would never visit in winter. And now Prince Niou had, in just two days of polite proximity, lost his heart and all reason to this girl-woman, this woman-girl. She seemed beyond conventional description such was her beauty and her graceful manner. When her eyes rose to his he lost the composure he knew his station demanded. But Kaoru in his own infatuation and glowing with the pleasuring he and Ukifune enjoyed seemed oblivious to the Prince’s covert gaze.
 
This evening Kaoru had already drunk more than was sensible. But darkness was drawing in, and the duties, what little he allowed himself, were over for the day, except to entertain his eminent friend. He had allowed himself to be carefully boastful of Ukifune’s charms and beauty. His words made frequent veiled suggestions of their moments of pleasure together in this winter world of silence where lovers would part the screens and stand folded in each other’s arms to witness the white world of snowfall decorate the mountain landscape.
 
Prince Niou had already decided that as his friend fell into stupor then sleep, and that would be soon, he would set out across the snows to seek Ukifune’s path, to capture her for himself, to declare his love and passion. As she left he had passed a note to her maid telling her not to be surprised by a night-time visitation. He knew that a journey in falling snow would take many hours and it would probably be dawn before he could approach her mountain retreat, a small house by a lake. There, it seemed, she withdrew from the complexities of court life to find the peace and balance necessary to sustain her beauty. She had described the joy of witnessing the intricate twilights and blood red dawns of winter, of watching the birds rise from and return to the oft-frozen lake. She and her maid would drift idly in her boat watching the black, dense water lap too and fro, until the cold required a return to warmth and comfort.
 
It was to be a hard journey. Niou, though prepared with stout boots, an extra cloak and shawl, knew he would flounder into drifts along way. Only his long staff would save him from ignominy. His saw his path blessed by the light of a half moon and together with a myriad of stars arching across the heavens, he would triumph. He had borrowed items of Kaoru’s clothing, his hat and staff, his bag and winter cloak. To all intents and purposes as he approached Ukifune’s home he would appear as his soon to be cuckolded friend. His thoughts remained fixed on  Ukifune. He longed for the moment when she would raise her eyes to him from her pillow, in surprise, in wonder he hoped. He considered how his cold body would join with her warm body in the infinite caress of love’s first passionate meeting. He would then carry her wrapped in her bed coverings to her boat and, having secured her comfort, pole out into the lake and there join with her as the moon looked down from the dawn sky.
 
Later they would exchange poems:
 
Niou
​Snow upon hill, ice along frozen rivers:
​​There for you I trod, yet for all that never lost
​​The way to be lost in you.
 
Ukifune​
*Quicker than the snow, swirling down at last
​​To lie by a frozen lake, I think I shall
​​Melt away while aloft yet in mid sky.

We were about a case deep in the conversation Jerry my
life long amigo and fellow brother in madness were finally catching a buzz.

And much like a chick ya knew after way to many beers
would probaly dance strip cry try to **** you puke and then try to make out with you  after you held her hair.

Jerry Was finally in the zone.
For my normally kinda silent almost creepy serial killer
acting friend when under the influence transformed into
a true brother of Gonzo.

Well aside from his morbid love of REO Speedwagon and Journey.
Dude! if i stopped smokin I could out sing that ******!
Yes if not for being tone deaf and sounding like Bon Jovi beeing mauled  or rapped by a bull or flipper  really whats the diffrence?

Dude idk why people are so uptight on  face book?
I mean just cause i posted my **** on there look it wasnt even hard.
Okay I thought to myself  this ******* tripping  probaly due to the *****  or the mushrooms we stole from his grandma.

Well i replyed to my kinda unsobber Journey listening drunk off your *** **** pic posting short friend.
Gonz it was cold out okay.
Yes amigo point taken.

Im guessing amigo that people when they want to get to know the inner thoughts of a shallow mind really dont wanna read.
Just dicking around rock out with your 3 inch  **** out okay it was  cold out.
that and stop poking the  the next door neighbors daughter
much like this write it's just weird.

True she's just a small town girl but ya gotta stop beliving
open arms and perverted nature are welcome to all
besides she wears a helmet and is 16.
Once ses to me she's not just fahsion foward  but prepared for
for the fall  of the flying monkeys.

Jerry looked deep at me with thoose  hound dog after he took a dump
in your bed sad yet naughty eye's of his .
And finally after some silence said you know Gonz
you truley cut to the heart of the matter and i just farted.

Yes he was a charmer and people wonder why were single?

Just then there arouse such a clatter.
Dr Jerry dropped his lawsuit against extense.
As I posted on twitter does this dress make me look fat
in a question which i only wanted replys from *** admires from
what a girl has needs !  

It's officer Rutherford time!

Answering the door in my trusty school girl uniform minus
the heels cause i was retaining fluid.
What? It's that time of the month you know january get your minds outta the gutter you naughty pennguins you.

Officer Rutherford  where have you been.
I knew my sorta outta my mind and kinda whoreish
way's would bring you back.
But enough with the foreplay children.

Yes even though officer Ruherford's eye's oh **** not this crazy *******
I knew in his heart burned a deep desire  to run like hell
and join to the witness relocation program  just to escape me.

Look John I just gotta serve Jerry okay have ya seen him?
Officer  may I ask you a question.
Like if I say no it stop you. You crazy *******.

Officer would you find this weird if you saw this on facebook?
What the **** it looks like my kids hamster what is that two inches ?
It was cold out okay!
The voice cut through the madness.

Is that Jerry!
If it is will you come in smoke cigars drink brandy while speaking
of summers past.
Shakspere in the park that first love how her hair smelt of
jasmine  and lips tasted of peach.

Officer Rutherford stood much like a man who wished to god
he was anything but a cop  dealing with a drunken perve
right now.

Look **** this I knew i should have been a godammed
hairdresser or a ******* mall cop.
He tore the paper up and sped away gone from my life
without even a kiss dam you cruel world!

Currituck County Cop's  zip  Gonzo 100  
Victory is sweet  yet bitter as a old grandma
you do uhh favors for, For drinks  im just saying times
are tight  and thats about all that is .
Yes I know im going to hell or Indianna really whats the diffrence.

Shutting the door going long for a beer and crashing through
the trailer wall dont worry I didnt spill my beer.
We sat spoke of things only true brothers from other party girl mothers do.

Ya know amigo I really should write about are antics more
often.
Gonz  people would think we were from another dimension.
Or a mental ward btw want cheese  on your roadkill meets
some glowing **** stew?

Hey whats in that *** ?
Umm some  deer  maybe a I dont think a brazlian hamster
maybe fluffy.
****** man stop taking from fluffy she only has two legs left.
That and whatever is in that *** just got out.

After some deep thought  playing guitar hero  and watching
scrambled **** off cable I think thats a **** or a christain.
No it's a elbow dam you Simon Cowell
and your tight black shirts  its just not the same.

The ***** gone  and on the brink of food poisening
and that awkward feeling called being sober
yes I know scary.

It was my time to leave.
Jerry. What the **** ya gonna do tonight?
Gonzo,Probaly puke  for a hour watch **** ,take acid
maybe talk to the wall make out with a random
women that reminds me i must check my traps

It's a shame when they chew there leg off and get away
you gotta love strippers.

Deep in thought or maybe on the verge of passing out
my kinda crazy amigo replyed

You write?


Dedicated  to my real life  brother who's
never read a word ive written.

Jerry Waterfield.