Objects in the rear view mirror.

The highway if life rolling under the wheels of my feet, each day lumbering past in a blur of hectic chaos as the race continues to be first to the end of the day. I try and take the lessons learned from the day and leave the rest behind me, sadly though the rear view keeps things closer then I would like to think. How does one.let go of things gone past when the reminders and questions are placed in the direction of travel? Forgiveness is bliss and ignorance a beautiful sandlot to hold ones head. Transparent words create the lies so pretty that a person wants so badly to be truth. Sadly the ugliness found in the reality of some situations is so far from what the heart wants to be tickled with can send a person into a flight of fancy. With mommy issues and daddy not loving enough, broken hearts and lessons learned from the results of brutal trust can a healthy concept of future be obtained? My self I tend to shy in the direction of wanting and hoping the best of situations, still i can not ignore a spade being a spade pretending to be a diamond. I guess people will always tell a version that they want to be known and sometimes as far fetched as it is, fiction is better than finding yourself disenchanted from dissapointment and maybe just maybe people do change and conscience changes the mistakes into lessons not to be repeated. How does that old saying go? Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice then you fooled the fool…



Fleeting and marred with psychotic subconscious that is an asshole and loves to scare the shit out of me. A never ending fight with the ghosts that I own, and a battle with the terrors that come back to life, the nightmares and catalytic moment that defined my acceptance of 8 trillion bandaids that will never fix the wounds. Good night world. Sleep.

Saturday morning.

I know that I don’t know the things I think I know, for if I knew the things I thought I knew then the way it turned out would not have come as such a surprise and I would understand my reality. Abandoned by my issues, left to face my damage I pull myself apart. The waste basket is full of the bits of me I find useless… How does one recycle hope, wants and dreams? I live in my feelings and usually they hurt who would expect any less? Snakes and ladders in this life I live movement at the roll of a die. I can’t even tease myself when it’s my turn to play. I keep buying the ticket to slide down hill and have lost every anything I’ve made. Today I shall trim yet once again shedding the unwanted things. For a person like me who really hasn’t owned anything the lack of stability ensured me that much, I admit it was nice for that moment when the music was louder then my thoughts and my friends were a not a memory of fiction, and the stress was a different misery.

Norman Rockwell life…

The perfect version of the perfect person following all the rules to fit in the perfect box of normalcy. Not me. I was a person who made a living of criminal deeds, selling the medications people find them self drawn to in order to deal with the life they get to live. Ain’t that some bull shit?! I fed of addiction to feed my addiction and as well my daily bread. Who would have thunk that I would find more stress trying to find my way on the honest side then I did snubbing my nose at Johnny law. I want different and I fear it’s to late that I ordered and ate my desserts and now the world wants me in my place. Why is it so hard to get out? The right thing is the most struggle I’ve faced. I have faith though because the day finds a way to work out and provide for me I just have to breath and it will be okay.

This really is a question?!?

This is a question. At one point in my behind me, the road threw at me the chance to lie. I embraced it, and in return I was rewarded with false bravado, a cheering section and fans. I swear if it was any more fantastic I would have been signing autographs. I guess my acting could have won me an Oscar or the academy award. Sadly though I don’t really like t.v. I don’t think acting is a way to garner the respect of people and every prize was a reminder that I am a fucking liar. I was congratulated for lieing, I was told to keep up the lies. Babble on about the noise they want to hear and things will be okay. Right?

I told the truth, and everything changed. I was ostracized and shunned. Banned from the world my lies had me accepted into, and sadly yet the most important ramification was loss of access to my son. I told the truth, I still use drugs. Surprise, after twenty something years of finding my place in life in the comfort of getting high, I got high. Somehow my confession that I was high changed me into a monster. If I don’t fit in the box the way they want me to then I am not allowed to eat the crayons anymore. I was the same person, only honest. Honest cost me so much and now I have the chance again. Lie and have my son, and the same empty bullshit from the rest of the peanut gallery or honest and continue to be hated. I don’t know how what I do when I’m not with my son, or them… I don’t know how that is so tramatic to their lifes that I become scum. Most of them are drunk fucks, my bandaid is a different color… Either way, do I be honest or do I lie?


Why do I let my insecurity get the best of me? It is hard for me to trust that I can ever be enough, this is a deep routed flaw of mine going back to before I watched my dad and brothers driving away from the child services building. Having been cheated on, simple to hate, a bit of a lot needy and easy to leave behind has me wondering what is so very wrong with me. I know I’ve burnt my own bridges and I have a vision of loyalty that is nearly impossible to live up to in this world of bigger better badder. I once believed in nuclear ─║ove, the ability to be forever in a fairytale ending of sunsets and true love. Perhaps I’m ruined, or to far damaged from the drugs and confusing my customers for friends. I still hold out hope for a happy ride into the sunset, a hopeless romantic influenced through the unrealistic images t.v. has brainwashed me to think is possible. I know I have issues loving me, still does that mean I don’t deserve to be loved just for the damaged crazy piece of shit I am. I fail on the best of days to live up to my own expectations, and I hear about the many way I let everyone else down as they make the escape from me and the person I am. I am sorry I made the choices that led me to be the person I am, I am sorry I’m trapped in my insecurity, to all the people I’ve yet to encounter, I appoligize now for the kicked dog syndrome and introducing you to the broken that is the aftermath. Have patience and understanding, please with that in mind understand I’m stupid and will need people to look out for me and be my friend. Its easy to beat on someone who doesn’t know how to stand up for them self, sometimes I need the help of someone willing to stand up for me.


The sweat is sticky, I’m crawling looking for the exit from my skin. Annoyance comes way to easy, I’m tired, pissed off and I want to get fucking high. Detox is an ugly word and a complete state of uncomfort. Toss and turn, tossed back again. The pounding in my chest the sad reminder that this is real. I set myself up to be completely fuckered and in that, I think, I hope is how I will succeed. I am flat broke, a few hours and I have no place to live. I pulled out all the stops, can’t even find a crumb to hoot in the pipe or lick off the floor. I amplified my problems in hopes the problems are the cure to my problem if that makes any sense?!? No money. Fuck I want to get high. I hate this phone, I hate breathing. Breathing got me here. Some might say my cracker slid off the deck of cards that is missing the puzzle pieces. I recently have taken up a new hobby of trying to obtain life cessation. It’s weird though, swallow 50 pills only to find out in the aftermath that my first try I had a full fledged heart attack, and I didn’t even know. The last batch of 50 pills was a pile of embarrassing bullshit that was no where even close to the desired effect. It’s only adding to the uncomfort of my current state. As it was explained to me that I’m dumb and I fucked it up, and that on the first try my messed up slightly large slightly failing heart, attacked. I figured out that scares me? I mean I did dip out the hospital with out asking questions or the formal certificate stating participant has obtained discharge stamps. I have noticed the palpitations and the pain, I don’t know how much damage I’ve done, and to continue on this life long bender probably isn’t going to help much. The reasons I find are not mine, that make me want to breath. I got to thinking it’s probably cold in that wooden corpse planted pot, I also came to the equation that I can’t hold her if I’ve finished the maze and found the final prize. I know I wouldn’t sleep well knowing that if she needed me I would scare the fuck out of science, and make the air intake once again function and crawl up to the world above me as a zombie, still it would be funny to see the looks that I would get. The dead man on a mission to find his living bride… Detox, the only option then that I can think of that might prolong the time spent with her in my arms. I haven’t told her yet that I love her that much, I love her enough to live.

I make light of my depression, and suicide attempts, If you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out. I can not advocate for life, I can however hope that maybe in that reach a reason will be found to keep the air flowing.