Praying I can Fly

Looking up to the sky
I dreamt about the possibilities.
Lined with the glistened tears
of the never forgotten.

I can’t help but think
of the life I led.
Singing songs in my mind
where angels resonate.

The burnt sun only shakes
our flakey flesh,
never what is below our feet
or what’s inside our chests.

The path I’ve paved
has led me to this.
Up a mountain top,
leaving it all balanced on
the brink.
Looking out to the bright blue sky–
just praying I can fly.

The Buzzing of Low Flying Fruit

The flies buzz past my right eardrum
purposefully trying to keep me insane
As I type out my life line before I die.
While the incessant humdrum of lost thought
From this whole damned country runs wild,
The hoards of glorified ill-repute send me off the edge of a cardboard cliff.
Since there is nothing left to say
My machine gun has laid still, lays silent
Killing my heart.

Happy Hour Nights

When I look deep inside
The clear light–
Letting the truth free and
My eyes split into two once
The daylight makes me blind,
It’s where my Demons hide.

Drowning in drink
Beneath hidden facades
And darkened plights,
I surrender to the old.
Tearing away the mask of so many,
Out into the night where
The shadows continue to grow
And the stories are told.

I hide from the daylight
Where the saints
outnumber the sinners.
I try to let go
And release the blood that
Drips from my mind
Onto the beautiful burnt wood
Through a looking glass.
It’s where my Demons can run free.

Happy Birthday To the One Who Keeps Me from Madness

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” I’ve never been lonely. I’ve been in a room — I’ve felt suicidal. I’ve been depressed. I’ve felt awful — awful beyond all — but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me…or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I’ve never been bothered with because I’ve always had this terrible itch for solitude. It’s being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I’ll quote Ibsen, “The strongest men are the most alone.” I’ve never thought, “Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I’ll feel good.” No, that won’t help. You know the typical crowd, “Wow, it’s Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?” Well, yeah. Because there’s nothing out there. It’s stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I’ve never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn’t want to hide in factories. That’s all. Sorry for all the millions, but I’ve never been lonely. I like myself. I’m the best form of entertainment I have. Let’s drink more wine!”