Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

“I can feel the weight of these memories, so large that I can’t carry anything new into my tomorrows. At some point I have to make a choice, but I’m afraid that, even after all these years, I’m still going to choose anybody but me…”

Falling down takes time, and has layers, and can even appear beautiful. It’s sort of like a sunset on the beach in late September. It’s not truly autumn, so every evening is ushered in on the tail-end of a dying summer breeze. The light from the Sun plays games with that not so warm air, flickering more, almost dancing, as it descends onto the horizon. The space between the Sun and the Earth, the Earth and the sky, the skyline and the edge of our planet, stretched out across the deepest of blues reflected in the open Sea… For a brief moment, you can close one eye, and these vast distances and heavenly bodies all fit in the space between your thumb and index finger. 

But the moment is only that, a moment.

The Sun keeps on dancing as it slips over the edge of the world. The breeze keeps on twirling, the oceans are swirling, but it’s all beginning to fade into the background as the Moon and the stars take their positions. The transition is peaceful, poetic even, and I find so much comfort in this daily sight. The world ends every day without a fuss. It takes time, but it’s never in a rush. The Sun goes down as its own pace, and it manages to stay beautiful every step of the way. So maybe falling down isn’t such a bad thing after all, so long as we remember that falling down always comes with the opportunity to rise again. 

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“I’ve never known where I was going, I just knew I had to keep moving. But even without a destination in mind, I think I always sort of knew this is where I’d end up. In the end, we all reach the end we were destined for.”

I caught up to you, on the last train of the night. For me, it’s the last train home. But where is this train taking you? I can tell it’s not taking you home, but it’s still the last train, so where is it you want this train to take you? 

~Beyond the tracks, past the city lights, a place where not even the stars can be seen. I just need to find a place where the world can’t see me… because if the world can’t see me, that would mean I couldn’t see myself, right? That’s the only place left where I’d want to go, a place where I never had to worry about seeing who I am…a place where I could pretend I don’t exist, that I never existed in the first place…I want to find myself in a world without a shred of me…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

And I know I’d waste my last words on something stupid, like “I’m sorry,” or “I never stopped loving you.”

Another day, another bottle’s contents swirling in my stomach, melting away the anxiety and replacing it with a physical sensation akin to choking. Or perhaps my throat is actually swollen shut? My lungs might be filling up with cheap liquor and cigarette smoke, leaving no room for something as silly as a chemical reaction turning oxygen into carbon dioxide. Perhaps that’s for the best, letting my words die in my chest before they find purchase on my breath, saving me from making another mistake, since I’m sure I’d just waste my final moments trying to tell you something, even though there’s not a single fucking thing you want to here from me…

Posted in Music Mondays, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

Miya Folick is everything I love about music.

At this point I’ve watched Miya Folick perform this song a hundred different times, and every single time I’m still blown away. The feelings she invokes with her voice, the way she writes sharp, intimate songs with soft words, and the way she lets the music take over with every performance, I’ve found that Miya Folick is everything I love about music. Just listen to this song and I promise, you’ll be hooked for life. I know I am.

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

I don’t know where I’m coming from, and I don’t care where I’m heading. I wish I had the strength to just…stop.

I’ve spent the past 6 years trying to erase everything.

If our lives are homes that grow with time, than what I have been doing is leaving the front door unlocked, every window open, and I couldn’t even wait for the world to rip out anything of value, so I actively participated in the pillaging, until nothing of value remained.

I’m an empty house, stripped bare from 6 years of trying to erase whatever we shared, and I shared it all, so it all came down.

20 years of life that I remember, and each memory has now be drowned, and it only took 6 years to destroy whatever I used to be, so the work is done…right?

Yes, that must be rightbut if that’s true…

~Why am I still breathing?~

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

Days turned to weeks, and now it’s been months; exactly 96 days I’ve been sober. But that’s left my mind with nothing but time to wonder about you and me…so I’m sober, but I’m suffocating, trying to accept a me without you…

Now I remember your face

The name you remind me of, so fake

This bitter pill, just a bit overkill

But theater has its place’s


We have come to a fork in the middle of this road

Damnit, who put this here?

Blocking my way, making it harder to say

What I need to


Well if I weren’t drunk, I could walk in a straight line.

But if I weren’t drunk, would I have the courage to dance?


So I’ll take another shot,

Some cold, liquid courage,

Injecting some iron

Into my spine

O, but it’s irony at its best

When you say, “I meant it!”

You meant it, you meant it!

O, how you lie


So you’re exposed, losing composure

Gaining a gloomy expression

What was that for, why so down?

You never could answer my questions


Seemingly unbreakable, I’m fragile

Your outer shell still intangible

The clock is broken, but I know the time;

I’m learning to not take the gamble.

Well if I weren’t high, all of the time, I would be pretty damn successful

But even on this high, I can tell that it’s time, and so I am walking away


Your face is beautiful, it’s true.

Physically flawless, a wonderful view.

But there’s nothing underneath;

You’re an empty physique.

And it’s time I said goodbye to you.

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

Rainy days are my favorite days, because in the rain I can believe in things like a clean start or second chances.

I waited for you in April, but as the rain came and went, you never revealed yourself to me.  I stayed there, and I’m still here, unable to rise up and enjoy the summer sun. And as this autumn fades into blinding snow, you are often the only thing on my mind. I’m still waiting for you, but each new breath saps all the warmth from my bones, and it’s only here, where my time is frozen, that the truth finally sinks in; I may never get to see you again…

~I wanted to see you blossom, but I never gave you the things plants need, like water or sunlight or…I never nurtured you, I just assumed nature would take care of that. Humans aren’t plants though, and we need silly things like words of encouragement and ice cream trucks and hugs that you wish would never end…because the end is a real thing, for everything, and that hurts…it hurts so damn much…~