In response to the text: "who wants to get ******* this weekend?"
I reply: I'll bring donuts, Gatorade, and Cards Against Humanity.
I tell the girls that the snacks are for them, so they don't get too drunk or hungover.
But really I know myself too well, and I binge when I feel lonely.
Its hard not to feel lonely, when you're the only sober one there.

At the Party:

Never Have I Ever reveals more than I ever thought it would.
I might be the oldest, but I am by no means the most mature.
Things I have never heard of, things I could have never thought of are things of which they speak.
Two donuts are gone.

Their alarms all go off at 10:00 for birth control. They take out their mini purse packs of 30 pills, no bigger than a credit card.

I don't take birth control, because my periods are regular, and well:

Depression+antidepressants+confusion of sexuality= no *** drive at all.
I mean zip, zero, nothing.

Leaving me to be the only ****** of the six girls here.
Three donuts are gone.

Hours ago though, I took my 300mg of Seroquel XR.
I timed it just right.
This time I won't fall asleep hours before everyone else

'Pong' requires drinking so I sit their and watch.
Four donuts are gone

Shots are taken.
I pour more tea into my mug.
Five Donuts are Gone

Drunk face-timing old friends who have moved away results in much yelling, and her hanging up.
I start a new group text where I talk only to myself.
All Donuts are gone

*There is no wonder why alcohol and depression don't mix

You wonder sometimes, don't you,
often as well, but maybe when
you're in bed,
or
on public transportation.

You wonder how they all do it,
and how they all step like ants
to a rhythm without numbers.

You wonder how everyone else
can possibly stand all of this *******
nonsense and not just blow up
or snap and just lose their
******* minds.

Start fires and explosions and
**** prime ministers and presidents,
and cry and **** and protest the
meaninglessness of such a
cruel gift as humanity.

You wonder how everyone hasn't given up.

All the while,
everyone else wonders
when everyone else will
******* lose it too.

I think the whole point of life on earth is that the smaller creature
adapts and learns how to eat or destroy the bigger creature;
So mankind is destroying the ******* planet,
and I wonder what was taking us so long?

I've been waiting to turn to a stranger and say,
"Do you feel like everyone is living in some
synchronized insanity, and we all want to scream
and cry and break **** and generally riot,
but we don't just because we're told this is how
things should be?

So we just keep  moseying on in our illusion of security,
and perpetuate the illusion with the people who
reject it...[?]"

A stranger flagged me down on the street today,
and I crossed the street and just hopped over the snow bank
to help an old woman to the supermarket,
and **** me, I can't remember her name,
it was like Nancy or Margaret something old-timey.
I bought an orchid and waited for her to finish shopping,
but she told me she would be okay;

Like sometimes you want to let someone know
you're still trying, you're going to be "good",
but **** reading Bukowski still feels so "good",
and all your honesty isn't truthful,
but it's so sincere.
I imagine everyone else is waiting and praying
for everyone else to just snap and go insane.

Those people will look into you and say
"I get it. You're sad", and miss that so many bricks
and stones go into building castles,
and every iPhone shop in the world looks so
empty, disgusting, and caucasian,
and yet every store wants to be the iPhone shop
and so very few places can attempt to be the castle.

The castle takes time, effort... Tolerance.
Stamina. Weathering, aging...
Yeah it looks cold in winter,
but it'll stand in spring, and it'll
outlive the ******* iPhone shops
for centuries.

Anything that stands for centuries
is literally amazing,

And if there is a God, she is a black woman
and the entire world calls her n#####,
and she cries herself to sleep every night.

We are all the company we will ever have in
all those lonely strangers.
If you've ever seen a cat try to **** another cat,
you might be me,
and you may realize mankind is brave and noble
and stupid and messy and disgusting
and terrible terrible terrible and so much better than
their feeble bodies, but so much
worse than gods and heavens and undeserving
of anything supernatural and kind.

We are a cesspool made of solid gold.

Yet, I've taken down my nooses.
I've made my sharp edges dull.
I look both ways when I cross the street.
I take care of a plant now.
I try to take care of myself.
I get by, and that's my plan.

To get by and be happy.

I don't wanna "live life to the fullest"
with some obnoxious artistic gesture
and "wacky" mannerisms,
I force feed to people who don't care.
Trying to make people think I'm
successfully immature, because I'm not.

I don't want to be some retail manager
and employee somewhere else,
getting it at both ends, unpleasantly,
trying to make people think I'm mature
or responsible, because I'm not.

I can't be Bukowski, and I can't be Ginsberg,
and I can't be Emily Dickinson, or Jack Kerouac.
I might have lofty fantasies, and sometimes I'll
attempt them, but I don't want those "plans"
that blow up in your face when the string gets pulled.

I have priorities.

I want to grace through life on thinning plastic wings,
playing last years video games,
listening to timeless music,
and most importantly,
being loved by the people
I love so very much.

We had blown through half the ***** and the drugs were nowhere to be found  in this oasis's of debauchery and bad decisions .
Bone had thrown his usual  temper fit and with his spoiled rich boy roots showed his *** in the worst possible way till someone finally shut him the **** up.

And after the ******* dude had knocked my sometimes friend most times pain in my *** sidekick out.
Looking to me in half spent rage and ****** knuckles asking now what the **** are you  going to do?

Well I'm going to have another round and play the jukebox now that someone finally shut that ******* up what you having amigo?
You mean your just going to sit there and let me get away with what I did to your friend that way.

Who that guy in the floor I don't know him.
But you came in here together **** you been sitting here drinking for at least five hours and your telling me you don't know him?

Oh that guy sleeping in a pool of blood in the floor?
Yeah stupid .
Nope never met him but he 's alright sometime when he's not ******* then he's well less a ***** and more just a regular ******* .

What are you ******* with me ******!?

The burly man asked as pure anger flowed like the Rio grand within his eye's
Some people have to build the rage up like some strange volcano to inflict damage on others and some are just ******* by design.
I wasn't sure of this man's type I just knew it was to dam hot to hit the highway and the cervasa was cold the music was right and I had no intention of leaving before my buzz kicked in.

What's to stop me from just kicking your *** like I did this ******* *******  ****** you tell me what's to stop me from taking your money and  rolling your *** right out of this place?

Mexico still bleeds of the past and it's people still show that passion for a good fight that at it's base is the true nature of man .
Not to be some violent nut but the passion for life at it's sharpest and most dangerous edge .

Well my friend I can think of a few reasons and probably none will be that pleasant.

I'm done with your games ****** .
The man moved forward fists clenched ready for round two I suppose
but his eye's sure were shocked when he found a barrel of a gun placed firmly between his eyes.

Now I told you this wasn't going to be pleasant sure you could have sat your angry *** down on a bar stool had a drink or two but no you had to play the ******* when I was just trying to catch a good buzz I swear some people have no manners .

The room went dead silent like some cheap spaghetti western right before someone was about to get killed minus that weird *** music so I guess it wasn't that silent at all as one old man turned his head then just went back to his drink like I don't give a **** as long as he doesn't bother me or make me stop drinking.


Oh **** ****** don't pull that ******* trigger  the man said his rage had turned more into a look of fear or maybe just a look of he just **** his pants honestly what's the difference well minus the smell.

with a gun in one hand and a beer in another I called the bartender down .
Mix me a mist and coke barkeep please.

No Whiskey just tequila senior .
What ! I replied in a fake sort of shock .
I swear no whiskey No women what kind of bar is this place I swear do I have to shoot somebody to get a bottle of whiskey ?

No no ****** the man at the end of the gun pleaded just get him some ******* whiskey Goddamit  he yelled at the bartender.
Really you don't have to be rude oh I'm sorry what's your name I been to busy holding you at gunpoint you must forgive my manners.

My names Gonzo I enjoy killing my liver hookers but only in moderation  like a good Christian  and ballroom dancing .
The man at the end of the boom stick lost all fear at least for a second.
Really ballroom dancing?

I'm kidding bout that one amigo but I do enjoy watching a good pole dancer  high five to that I mean I would  give you a high five if I wasn't holding a gun to your head and all .

Um you ever going to tell me your name bud?
I looked at this now downright scared shitless man who seemed to have a real issue with sweating from the strange puddle on the floor.

I swear you pull a fully loaded pistol on someone and point it to there head and everyone just acts so serious people are so strange these days.

Bill the man with a sweating problem replied.
Bill ?  Really what Mexican is named Bill ?
I mean I come all the  way down here get into some wild west kickass trouble and I find the only Mexican named Bill .
******* Machete you ruined my whole experience of what this was supposed to be like.

Sir. the man tried to speak up behind the  bar.
Don't interrupt me barkeep I'm on a dam roll here duh who you thinks writing this story imaginary person I created within my own demented mind.

You see Bill when I come across the border I expect a few simple things kick *** ****** cheap drinks and badass people like yourself named Razor or Spider  Or  El Nino or some sort of **** is that raciest sure put labels on what we have here amigo but I come for a kickass time in Mexico  and you really well you just killed it so I hope your happy.

I'm so sorry but please don't **** me Bill Replied .
Sir the barkeep spoke up again.

Okay what bartender being my whole trip has been ruined by Mexican Bill who honestly I feel if not for all this gun and life or death **** we could have a true connection but not like in a gone fishing on that mountain **** were those two cowboys corn hole each other  or maybe they just played corn hole once is fine I mean its not like I saw that movie and cried at the end cause duh I would never go see that in some cheap attempt to get laid by my teenage stripper girlfriend yeah don't ask.

Okay barkeep what the hell is it.
Well sir were not in Mexico.
This man was clearly more drunk than I for he didn't know what dam country he was in.

Amigo are you sure you know what your talking about.
Well yeah the barkeep replied your in Busch gardens theme park .
Well that certainly explains the ******* roller coaster and why that woman near it slapped me when I asked how much for a ******* boy do I feel embarrassed.

I knew I shouldn't have had that acid before leaving the house .
I did think it was strange that Germany was within walking distance.

So after nearly giving Mexican Bill a heart attack who was actually was Canada Bill once made me feel a little better because  honestly just for Nickleback and Justin Bieber  was grounds enough to pull a gun on him .

We sat  enjoyed some drinks as Bone laid passed out in the floor and said I don't want to go to school every time I kicked him cause I'm a true **** for a friend duh like you hadn't figured that out.

We laughed we rode rides we beat some dude up in France just because he was French .

And in the parking lot as we said are goodbyes.
I stood there and said you know Bill it's been great sorry bout the whole thinking I was in a foreign country and pulling a gun on you and stuff.

It's cool Gonz sorry about all my ****** music we pollute your airwaves with I know it's like being prison ****** by some dude called Harley .

Well I got to go and Bill  you stay crazy and by the way go take a ******* bath cause you **** your pants and it smells worse than Taylor swifts crouch okay .

Yeah the city landfill doesn't have **** on her .

We parted  are ways drunk and behind the wheel like good Americans .
And if that ****** you off just wait till my next write.

Duh it's just a story *******.
Stay crazy hamsters .

Your captain  

Gonzo

Fireworks were cool. Framed metal chairs with woven nylon Americana on watered lawns on the outskirts of the edge of Los Angeles. Hairy neighbors, Miller Drafts and dog ****. Sally ****** Jim on the corner, and Jim drank, or started again and wouldn’t stop, but was good with a flat tire and chain adjustment. His kid had a glove like a vacuum. His daughter was a *****. Sally afforded a Mexican gardener.

Tim always had fireworks. He had gasoline and willed fireworks into his driveway. He had rope and a keg.

Schatzky keep her cool. She had to. She worked the 5th and taught everyone’s kids. She taught their parents too, 10 years ago.

Her son Donavan and her husband Keith lived for the 4th. Little pink houses and Jack and Diane kind of ****. So they watched fireworks on flag hill while their neighbors ****** and got ******* and burnt their eyebrows. Donavan was ecstatic.

Each year the hill was gilded in gold for Donavan and Keith and and Schatzky, because each 4th brought fire and explosives in a way they could never afford.

Keith was more patriotic than most. He waited and enlisted and became a hero. Donavan watched on TV. Schatzky watched too. We won the first gulf war and everyone knew it: https://youtu.be/4gNhs2SRacs?t=1m10...

They celebrated the fourth in baseball stadiums. They celebrated life and heroism and purpose, and they celebrated with F16s and the best explosives the peacetime nation offered.

And Keith celebrated and embraced purpose. He even became a leader in the 2nd gulf war.

Sally stopped ******* Jim. Jim wasn’t married anymore. His kid lowered Tim’s basement and didn’t steal the copper.

Tim’s house was worth a fortune but it had a radon problem.

Schatsky was accused of drowning her dog, but she didn’t do it.

Jim still drinks; he’s smarter now.

They all meet on flag hill every 4th. The fireworks aren’t as good. A lot of build up for a finale that feels like an accident.

Water seeps through my jeans and no one can see my face as I limp home with a broken rubber sandal and a bucket of ice, a dog tied around my legs, and a kid face first on the grass, a wife whose friend drank our last beer an hour ago, a phone with  two-percent battery left and my mom wants to show me what fireworks look like in California.

For the third time, I’ve found myself *******
in the reality of how I was perceived
by the people who passed me on the sidewalk,
or who met me at the party, or who
took my heart and collided it with their hips.

And by now even I know that I should know
how the rest of the conversation will go.
My cheekbones will grace the slander
of a compliment skewed, a lust
for my body ruined by misplaced intentions.
My agreement
to go back to his room was never welcomed
by my head, but instead
the sad bed with its sheets already turned down
waits for me and I hate it. I hate it
like an insomniac hates sleep, like the sun
loves ice cream.

For the third time, I’ve found myself smashed
into a wall of circumstances, appearances
cushioning the blow. My pretty face,
my pretty face, my pretty face!
God, how I’d love to put on a show
so you could see how my mind tumbles
across all the roads I know I shouldn’t be crossing.
How my eyes dance on every temptation just waiting
for the hand to be dealt, for the bet to be placed.

For the third time, I’ve let myself be bound
by the vibration of reassurance, by the ring
of a telephone. I’ve lost
a part of myself in you. How haphazardly ineloquent
it all seems in my nightmares, how blessed
the rest of the world must be to know this pain
and be able to stop themselves from feeling it.
How dark
it is under your seat

In bed while you and your little minx snuggle smoosh and snore.
Im usally  ******* outta my mind.
So why not reach for the phone  cause  im tired of a same old
conversation with the floor.

One ring, two rings, four.
Bet she's off  *******  some lucky *******.
Who's this 3423  wait wrong number i knew
my angel wasnt just some cheap *****.

The rooms  running in circles course maybe thats just me.
Hey wonder what tommys up to.
Dude what you so ****** about?
It's  not my fault after you dated my
sister you can light a forrest fire with your ***.

Another shot of Jack okay maybe ten.
And much like like grandpa on ****** .
My ***** thoughts mentally aroused again.

On a quest i called  Rebecca ,Taylor,Mickey,Minnie and
some drag queen named  Tina , or Sue
Baby many  hangovers will probaly not recall my journey
drunk dialing my way back to you.

Spin the  the bottle with next door neighbors  dog.
Watching youtube  such high class watching a monkey
***** a frog.

Alvin and the chipmunks  sure dont sing as good
in *** of boiling water.
Sure was awkward  asking my cousin is it okay
if I date your daughter.

911 i have a emergency im gonna run outta beer  and the VCR
ate my ****.
Help honey im lost  and i feel ive been ***** by Justin Bieber  and
the other children of the corn.

Officer   it's kinda strange to ask for number  he just blew.
Honey  i got fleas and i think  something worse than Bieber fever
I hope this is love for im drunk dialing my way back to you.

Hello who's this  um if you dont know  I'll give ya a guess.
Im the G but not the spot.
But they say after a few drinks and some minor head trauma
im really hot.

Hey Skeeter  if your in bed then who the **** am I callin?
Jesus  , Charlie  Chaplin , Mr Ed,  And that  loveable Stalin.
looks like Ive had to many crystal **** rice crispi treats.
Yeah I know   I should have my own show  on the food channle.
For  all the plump *******  showing them really healthy eats.

Sugar **** my quest   was much like *** with a  normal person
yeah no whips, chains, police chase's   or  romantic music by 2 live crew.
Yes sugar it's no wonder you didnt answer the phone.
Btw I puked under the bed  dont worry it was the neighbors
All while drunk dialing my way back to you.

Monday:

The text said "who wants to get ******* this weekend?"
Life *****, as it always does,
but really its only Monday!

Tuesday:

I get assigned designated driver, but its not like we are

A. going anywhere
              or
B. I have any other choice

You know its dangerous to mix anti-depressants with alcohol?
And isn't the point of these pills, not to depress myself further, as alcohol has always seemed to do for everyone else?
Isn't that why they like it?
Because they feel numb?
I don't understand why anyone would want to be numb.
Maybe it feels good if its only for a little while.
Not for me though.
For me the numbness doesn't come in a bottle.
It comes in reflective surfaces, and anxieties, and sharp objects.
I cannot choose when to turn it on or off.
It just comes and goes as it wishes, as if I were a house and numbness called me home.

Wednesday:

The group message alerts are buzzing like their is no tomorrow.
Plans for where to go keep falling through.
But don't worry, the dead alcoholic's ex-wife and daughter are okay with hosting an underage drinking party.
And this is why I wonder about humanity.

Thursday:

We will all gather at that one girls house.
Everyone will bring alcohol.
I will bring donuts, Gatorade, and Cards Against Humanity.
I tell the girls that the snacks are for them, so they don't get too drunk or hungover.
But really I know myself too well, and I binge when I feel lonely.
Its hard not to feel lonely, when you're the only sober one there.

Friday:

They talk about this past year.
It was their freshman year of college.
I remember mine. Two years ago now. Time sure does fly.
We all talk about sophomore year.
I'll be back their again too... I hope.
You see, suicidal ideations don't usually help when trying to complete classes.  

Saturday:

Never Have I Ever  reveals more than I ever thought it would.
I might be the oldest, but I am by no means the most mature.
Things I have never heard of, things I could have never thought of are things of which they speak.
Two donuts are gone.

Their alarms all go off at 10:00 for birth control. They take out their mini purse packs of 30 pills, no bigger than a credit card.

I don't take birth control, because my periods are regular, and well:

Depression+antidepressants+confusion of sexuality= no *** drive at all.
I mean zip, zero, nothing.

Leaving me to be the only ****** of the six girls here.
Three donuts are gone.

Hours ago though, I took my 300mg of Seroquel XR.
I timed it just right.
This time I won't fall asleep hours before everyone else

'Pong' requires drinking so I sit their and watch.
Four donuts are gone

Shots are taken.
I pour more tea into my mug.
Five Donuts are Gone

Drunk face-timing old friends who have moved away results in much yelling, and her hanging up.
I start a new group text where I talk only to myself.
All Donuts are gone

*There is no wonder why alcohol and depression don't mix

I thank you all for today
It's no easy jump
Friends and loves are hard to find
Eww...
Nerds...

Thats just grown up.
When is the last time time
You thought about holding someone?
I don't want to **** anyone again for that
Meg is a terrible self.

But I love me some Family Guy.
Ummm...
Irresponsibility with your family,
I bet you love that
You ******* person.

Sorry,
My fault as well
Nerd.

The Irish are going to go hard soon.
You gotta wake up my friend...

Imprinted   in to the  fleshwall-
linings   of my very spirit
resides a photo of you--

(staring at your computer screen)
      with a genuine look  of shock  
        and disbelief..

..And before I could even yell Sam
I was receiving     by you
the most horrendous,  publicly displayed
****-kick  I  have  ever  received.

It only stayed out there for a short time
but online, a "short time"  
            ..is exactly as an eternity;

       So I pulled back  in self protection.

I had been dickin'-around  out there
in a whole 'nother poetic-realm..
playfully finding words and verse  comparing
my wildly-passionate virility

    to that of a well-honed precision,
    high powered performance engine

And two clear babes  showed up  in the comments
   and let me know
how impressed and affected they were
by what it was they were reading.

   So naturally,  me being a single man..
         I responded.
    I never knew them before, or ever saw them after.
    End of story.


                    ..Almost.


Young,  beautifu­l Wildling--
I never knew you even gave two ficks and a ****..

Until I saw that picture  of you..
staring into your computer screen
in raw,  disbelief--

      ...the wind,  fully knocked out of your sails.

So..  clearly you buried yourself
in  multiple two-fingered  snorts
of your favourite "spurned lover's"  little helper happy-juice..
and once you reached   the intended goal

     of full-blown,  *******--

You performed some of the most Machiavellian-****
I have ever seen in my life.  

           (But it fell short of its  intended goal.)


Nothing can remove you  from the love  of you
                                        that I feel in my heart.

What you thought was destroyed,
was immediately forgiven
   Solely because of that picture  of you
   that is now,  forever mine.  Solely.

   There is a dream,  beautiful girl

   ..And nothing  you can do  
                  can make it end.
                  (The restoring of you   back to you
                  is such a central part of that dream.)


    The restoring of you, young beautiful..       You.


            
            Mm.

    Shhh....   listen..

how horrible you are!
mirrors crack upon your gaze and split you in two
yelling and throwing tantrums, almost begging you
to vanish from their reflections, so they can heal again
the ugly truth - a part of the festering pile of **** you really are
want more? sure

you write about how wonderful a brand new day in your life is!

-this is happening in an E.R. at 4:00 AM - no subtext

last night was the best ever! drums, drugs, toxicity and debauchery

-you beat the land lady to within an inch of her life, then
ran from the cops for 4 miles, after which
you fell down 4 flights of stairs in the park because
you couldn’t see the railing properly - no subtext

{new update! 158 people followed you}

you’re a success. your blog is on fire. next day 281, day after - 590.
you post pictures of yourself with women getting ******* and ******

-you didn’t score with either - no subtext

you write old quotes that nobody’s heard in ages

-said you started a trend and took pride in it - subtext

you post made-up chats with ***** women trying to come on to you while you’re playing it cool

-it was your pen pal asking you to stop being a fake cause she believes in who you actually are,
so you tell her to ******* and block her. - no subtext

the one thing you don’t write about is why you are such an *******
in a world full of ******* with nothing better to do
than entertain others with a **** load of lies
simply for the sake of recognition

The waiter grabs
another beer

brining it to
table 24.

They send him for
more
water.

He cusses as he walks
back
and forth

He brings
them
the water
the beer
is

gone.

They send him for
another.

I pour him one.

He brings it to the table.

But not before
asking me
if we plan
on getting ******* tonight.

I tell him:

"Yes. It's Amanda's
birthday.
Everyone is going out."

He brings the table another beer.

The fat man sitting there
laughs.
His laugh is
curdled with
an onset drunkenness.

I pour another beer
for a different waitress.
I am counting
the
clock.

She grabs the beer.
And smiles with
an honest
smile.  

She is new.

Unaware of the
distain
we all
hold tightly.

I pour another beer.
I count the clock.

Until we can
get

*******.

is that how you feel?
this is how you're feeling? And you tell me your mind is reeling and you can't keep your head straight
and that's why you need to be *******
and I could never mean more to you I couldn't mean a thing to you
my addiction keeps getting fed from every word you ever said
and you say you know you say you know me
so if you know me why would you hurt me and why do you keep me seizing
grasping
clutching for something that's not even there
you care
you say you care you want me to share why I get so angry why I get so frustrated
why I get SO ******* FED UP
your words I hold onto
and the words you never say
and you'll never say because you're not in the mood
you're never in the mood to open yourself up
to me
you say you know me
you say you know me better than I know me
MY GOD you
**** ME
OFF
and claw at my mind with your words that I find so alluring
and I find you so alluring
and you're beautiful
and that mind
your mind
**** your mind
and you ****** me with your mind
and ideas
and plans
and then you use your hands

and I'm caught again.

I think we could be a good couple.
Yeah, I think we could make it work.
Is there something wrong with that?
I think you're pretty.
You think I'm pretty.
I want to kiss your face
and you want to kiss my face.
I want to hold your hand
and you want to hold my hand.
You're cute
and yeah,
but also,
and kinda,
you know?

Your dark brown eyes pierce through the burdens of everyday life and appeal to me.
Your dark red lipstick is teasing and yells "hey let's be more than friends."
I want that.
I want to stay locked onto your eyes and I want to forever have your red lipstick smeared on my neck.
I want you.

You're blue dress is beautiful and stands out from all these slutty leopard spotted rags.
Your face is radiant and shines over all these *******, makeup caked ******.
I'm not afraid to tell you I love you and I hope you're not too afraid to love me.

I want to hold you and smoke cigarettes with you until we're tired of them and  then I want to kiss you until we're tired of that and then I want to talk to you about  e e cummings because we'll never get tired of that.
and I want you.
Just you.
you.
.

Sorry, dude. I must admit
I find it more than pathetic
That you experience life
With sorrow about some of it
That you don’t have a drug
To take to help appreciate
Something that is amazing
And really needs no chemical
To help you exaggerate
What is really going on
And pretend it is better
Or somehow transcendent
As if water can be wetter.

But it is as if time warped
And I have gone backward
To talk to myself about it
And then zapped forward
To see what a saturate
What a wet-brained fool
I was back then, it’s true.
I was a tin-plated tool.
I measured my existence
One dime bag at a time
Giggling with stoner friends
About my forays into crime;
Selling backs of skunk ****
When nobody else had any
Good stuff or bad stuff.
And I was the one with plenty.

Walking through Hollywood
With stoner friends and flakes
Singing as we stumbled along
About life and what it takes
To satisfy *** hounds those days.
***, drugs and rock and roll
And pride in our half-witted ways.
Learning how to roll pinners
Of a buddy’s stash on the sly
While he was taking a whizz
And couldn’t ask me why.
Learning how to properly treat
The remaining sticks and stones
And confiscating the roaches
When the others left them alone.

That was the cannabis coalition
The Sativa Society at its height.
We worked in the daytime and
Got ******* most every night.
And sooner or later, on the job
In the bathroom or on the roof.
I didn’t think of it addiction.
I still needed further proof.
I needed to try to buy ****
From a government man I met.
Fortunately I bailed on that
Before adding one more big regret.
Life has gotten better since then
No more outside dependence.
I quit before the drugs became
The entire focus of my existence.

Oh mother dear, where do I begin?

I do love you, mommy,
I love you like a venomus snake,
in which I run from,
hoping to find shelter in my own mind,
I run and I run and I run,
only to find myself back again,
because as much as I want to distance myself,
from the mistakes you've made,
I find myself drawn to the idea of change,
but who am I kidding?

In the back of my mind,
I know you'll never change,
I know you'll only get stuck deeper in your current ways,
the way you need the ***** and the ****,
just to cope with the mistakes you've made,
because you've never forgiven yourself, for everything you failed to change,
and you'll never realize,
that drinking yourself into a coma, won't change a ******* thing,
but mommy, I love you, as you love me,
in the only way we will ever know,

We live in a small town,
you live upstairs, and I live below,
where I listen to you stomp about your little home,
you were never light on your feet,
and I can hear almost every move you make,
which is kind of comforting,
for if I can hear you, I know,
you have not yet went on your daily trip,
to that little store you head to every morning, around the same gravely time,
9 oclock the liquor store opens, and down the block you go, for your first dose of poison,
its not very comforting to know,
your slowing killing yourself with deadly liquids,

You my dear, are the reason I hate alcohol,
the reason I swore I'd never become you,
it all leads back to you,
the reason I can't sleep sometimes,
just thinking about the one I call mom,
and the way she started life mistakes early,
thinking about the way you started drinking at just barely fourteen,
maybe it wasnt your fault,
maybe you were lead to the bottle,
by some events around you,
can we possibly blame your mother,
was she cruel, did she not love you?
I will never ask you these things,
but may I say, curiouser and curiouser, I do get as time goes on,
who made you like this? or was it all on your own?

I can't help but believe you'll never get better,
you'll always be a mom by day and a drinker by night,
and sometimes, a drinker full time,
stomping about with your ever so heavy steps,
if i'd never met you, I'd swear you were a hundred pounds heavier,
just from the way you walked,
and sometimes fell, tumbling to the ground,
breaking skin into cuts i'm curious about the day after,
and you just say you fell,
you don't tell the truth,
I'd really rather you just say, okay, fine, it happened when I was *******,
and still drinking,
because as the saying goes,
one is one too many,
one more, is never enough,
which is why you drink until you can keep your eyes open, no more,
and then is the time you finally hit the floor,
to wake up confused the next morning,
only to start all over again,
this be the cycle of the one I call mommy,
mother dearest, I love you,
in the best of ways,
I love you so, that I can only be honest when I say,
you have a problem and you need to change,
but just the same,
I love you, as you love me,
in the only way, we will ever know

One more thing

I like to strut
across the stage
and wear the finest, yes
rocker boots
I'm bowie and Morrison

I exude, yes

and I take a drag of a cigarette
just to flick it

I wear a chain around my neck
and I dance around my apartment
to billy idol
and I sweat, sweat, sweat sweat, sweat

I get ******* and kiss ***
I get ******* and perform and drop the microphone

my virtue
is kindness
because its easy to be nice

when you've got a nice smile

model, model model
you remind me of an actor
that I've seen, oh yes
I appreciate that
mannerisms and pleasantries

a self portrait?  sure why not

you know what I mean...

******* on a saturday night
lower case ramblings and public house
scramblings,
beer at a fiver a pint.
too many troubles
one or two or more doubles,
*******
on a saturday night.

Or at least thats what I always believed to be the Gospel Truth.
I was a true ***** believer in this supposed axiom
right up until the moment I
ceased drinking unceasingly.
And what did I have to believe in now?
I loved drinking.
Loved loved loved it.
I loved alcohol so much that I stopped noticing anything else in my life.
Eventually I drank so completely that I stopped noticing it as well.
Kind of like a Blasé blah marriage of addictive attrition,
alcohol was my infernal internal companion.
It never strayed nor ever cheated me.
'Twas extraordinarily dependable and pleasantly blendable too.
But you know what?
I'm happier now.
I have purpose beyond my elbow's reach.
Purpose deeper than the bottom of any bottle.
Alcohol may have been all of those things I just mentioned,
but it really became my life's filter.
But not the kind of filter that removes all impurities.
Rather a filter that kept any and everything out of my life that didn't include alcohol.
Devious huh?
My 'filter' worked like so:
If I wanted to Laugh?
I'd need a few shots before the funny could start,
and after a few more drinks the funny wouldn't stop...
Even when what I thought was so **** funny was
actually so **** painful it made everyone miserable
and want to go home and cry.
If I wanted Love?
Or ***?
I'm gonna need to be hammered
before I even attempt to express the former,
but not too hammered or there's
no recompense in attempting the latter.
Every facet of my life had to get in where it could fit in,
always sublimated beneath my HNIC
alcohol.

If a job didn't let me drink,
my drinking let that job go.
The list of let go's is breath achingly long.
Small sample?
I quit guitar, I quit family, I quit joy.
About the only thing I didn't give up on was cigarettes.

The inelegant mathematical constant made plain by my life was drinking. The proof would look something like this:

Me/T = S
to explain it as a constant:

Me over Time is always equal to *******.

It was a given.
That finally had to give.
It's only been 'less than a long time' since my last drink.
It's been a little while, but compared to the number of times I've circled the sun
it feels insignificant.
This means I need to keep the memory of my marbles being misappropriated by mixologists muy importante en mi cabeza.
That last sentence was mostly for me.
So is this next one.
Perhaps I can potentially ping-pong my perspective on
how long it's been since I drank.
I could make it seem like half a lifetime has passed since then.
And I think I could.
If I was a toddler.

Me Not Drinking?

Me Not Drinking Is The Sun Shining.
Me Not Drinking Is Zaria Smiling.
Me Not Drinking Is Broncos Losing Superbowls. (Sorry Colorado)
Me Not Drinking Is a Life Meant to Be.
For Me.

I can see now just how drab & gray life's kaleidoscope
becomes when viewed wholly through an alcohol filter.
So i am sad to say goodbye,
but i am more sad it took us so long to part ways.
Alone I can smile and can sigh,
perhaps even cry.
(if I get something in my eye).
Because I am human again.
I feel all the feelings again.
I am a me again.
I am filterless.
**** Yeah!

I am not a ******* parrot,
you ******* *******.
Dont tell me to repeat after you
don't hush the room so everyone can hear me
dont ******* tell me i need a beer so ill speak more.

you are the biggest ******* i have ever met.

Not everyone is outgiong
not everyone feels comfortable in a large group of  people
not everyone is able to yell over your drunk ***

im not sorry i can't speak very loudly
im not sorry im shy
im not sorry i am who i am
but i am sorry that you can't have fun without getting drunk
i am sorry that you can't treat your wife with respect
i am sorry your kids had to put up with you as a father
i am sorry i met you.

There was a time in my life
when I was an expert
at quarters.
In fact,
I was so good at it,
every time I played,
I would get more *******
than all the others.
It wasn't about love
or intimacy,
it was about being
the biggest bad ***.
But when I look back now,
it may have been about
being the biggest
drunk *******.

We used to smoke **** together by the school.
You were practically my sister and I loved you.
You always had the good **** and you always had cigarettes.
After a while **** was not enough.
You showed up with ***** one day and we got *******.
This went on too long.
We feel into the habits our parents warned us against.
We blew off friends and family,
we lost relationships and trust but we had our **** and our *****.
We had each other and that was all we needed.
I remember when we shared our house and how happy we were.
I would go to school because you made me.
You would go to work so we could afford our life.
When you got home, always a quarter after six, we would drink.
One day, a Tuesday, you came home with junk.
You said it was good stuff, you knew the chemist who made it.
So we snorted.
That's when it all started.
We snorted, every time more and more.
After maybe three years that was not enough.
You were the first to stick that needle in your arm.
I followed with the same ******* needle.
Next was ****.
I stayed away from it but you shot up. Twice a day for months at a time.
You quit your job and cashed in the money we had been saving for a car.
I started to hate you.
I ******* hated you and I told you everyday.
Eventually I kicked ******'s demon off my back.
I smoked **** and watched you fall apart.
Their would be random guys at our house and you got only god knows how many diseases.
All so you could get your ******* fix.
A year ago today was the last time I saw you.
I hope you read this and I hope you ******* hate yourself, Carol Dean.

I watch the same white car drive by my window
Every day.
Each time, a little muddier.
Life is the most vicious of circles.
A whole structure of bells and whistles
Too deep under concrete
For our already ****** hands to dig up.

Is it truly a deja vu
If you're really seeing it again?

I lick clean the cold plate they serve revenge on.

The Devil is real
I made it breakfast.

feed it blood feed it *****
feed it drugs and razors
smear it with cover up
and send it off to get an education

laugh at its ******* antics
stab it in the back the way it taught you to

feed it angst and ***
feed it amusement at others misfortune

watch it spend all your money

and throw your children in a woodchipper

witness a shattering mind
observe its destructive nature

feed it smoke feed it flame
feed it heat and music

listen to its laughter as it jumps off a building
and shatters like glass on the ground below

cage this hungry twisted creature
and give in to its beautiful seduction

feed it rage and feed it poison
feed it your life
because thats what it wants
and you dont have the will power to fight

so join it in hateful self abuse
make wild love to it in the dead of night

feed it your happiness and your depressions
feed it your friends and pets
**** your family
and weep into the night with it by your side.
then smile
because its what you wanted
when you gave in

It’s New Year’s Eve!
Let’s get knee-walking plastered.
Don’t eat anything today,
It gets to your bloodstream faster.

It’s Saint Patty’s Day!
Let’s get ******* on green beer.
I’m Irish, so I am entitled, you see
And I won’t be again until next year.

It’s my birthday!
Let’s get plowed out of our minds.
Let’s drink everything in sight
And ***** every ***** we can find.

It’s Saturday night now!
Let’s do a bunch of beer bongs!
Anything that’s okay with my gang
It’s all good. It can’t be wrong.

It’s Fourth of July today!
Let’s have a picnic so we can drink.
But not fancy cocktails for me.
I don’t care for throwing up pink.

It’s Labor Day today!
Let’s do a chugalug contest today.
We’ll laugh at nothing at all
And drink the whole day away.

It’s a sporting event tailgate party!
Let’s get drunk together in a parking lot
And act like the teenagers we think
That we are when we really are not.

It’s Happy Hour! Hooray!
Let’s eat buffalo wings and imbibe
And hope the cop that stops us
Is okay with drunks or accepts a bribe.

It’s a bachelor party right now!
You don’t want to offend the host. Drink!
Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow
Well, it will be more sober than you think.

We spill our coffee and reach for the paper towels
We toss tons upon tubs of aluminum cans with the trash each hour
We turn lights on in the middle of the day when the brightest beacon is all we need
We stay glued to televisions evening in and morning out
ANd don't even listen to what they're saying
We sure hear it in the background
Of our cell phone chats and screaming brats
Need Need Need
Is all they say
Day after day
WHy must we need these things so badly
It takes more effort to get ******* and stupid
Than to peacefully sit
And think
About anything in particular
And nothing at the moment
Or something in time
But we do it anyways
Week and week and weak
ANd we wake up the next morning and toss the cans
In a plastic bag
WHich we throw in a bigger can
Which gets picked up by this rolling thundering truck of a thing
That burns more gas than a speedboat
Which is what we're all riding through this life
Rather than paddling down a gentle brook
In a hollowed out tree
Oh wait
We cut all of those down to make more things
Like post it notes we use once
And then toss in another metal can
With another plastic bag
Which as you may guess
Goes on and on in this excessive
And perpetual cycle of total waste
Those trees make pieces of plywood
Which kids paint designs on
And toss ***** back and forth
into more plastic cups
When we could just set our own glasses
Around the place in random spots
And they don't even need to be cups
They could be fishbowls
And you find a small item that does not need to be a ping pong ball it could be a lil toy lion or a seashell or a miniature book
Or an acorn
In fact
Why do we even have houses in the first place
It doesn't rain that often
And when it does
You might as well just climb under a tree
Or duck into a cliff
Or be ******* resourceful
And find a natural solution
Stop buying bag after bag after bag of plastic party cups
Take the ones you already have and make someting fun
You could use them to play a game where you build a palace
By balancing the cups and making walls and such
You can do that with anything you have in your house or outside or wherever you are
Find the fun in things
Think about the infitine number of things you could do with each item you see
We should just sort through our dumps and take evertyhgin and make it into something useful
Stop resource production completely
And live naturally.

She's sick to her stomach of your ******* promises,
Of the nights you promised to bring happiness and brought pain.
She swallowed you up in the pit of her being
And you Gargled inside her making her spit and splutter,
She's in the gutter.
And while she's down you pump your poison through her veins with nothing to gain, numbing her brain.
Yet again, you mask the pain.

Addiction offers so many
Glamorous ways to die.
It’s total wonder to me
Why everyone doesn’t try.
You can get almost all of the
Diseases known to man.
No other kind of dissolution
Gives what addiction can.

There’s diabetes, and then gout
And pancreatitis too.
All these devastating kinds
Of hell are there for you.
You lose your toes and hands
And maybe you go blind
Or maybe your very guts
Begin to commit inner crimes.

You lose all morality
And rob those you love.
You hold the drug you take
About fifty miles above
Any care or real concern
For those you may destroy.
You become a liar and a thief
Just a typical growing boy.

Nobody trusts, they run away
And leave you to suffer alone.
Life then turns itself into
Your personal Twilight Zone.
Suddenly your companions are
Just as ******* as you.
You are the lowlife you ridiculed
Back a just year or two.

So go right on calling it
That drinking game you do;
Partying and social stuff
Until you know you are through.
That may not be until they throw
The dirt over your casket.
For now, have fun on your trip
To hell in a hand basket.