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

“A night without liquor, mistakes made in poor lighting, and the numbing taste of a strangers lips would do me a world of good. If only I knew how to accept anything good..”

Coiled around every kiss is the taste of a temporary love. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but we’ve all forced ourselves to stomach worse things than this, in the name of desire. Nobody enjoys a burning esophagus, nor the rancid taste of stomach acid that accompanies every exhale. A goodnight kiss has been replaced with a shot of sour breath breaking across the face of a stranger. Going to bed alone would be the smart thing to do, so of course you drag a warm body up and under the cover of your sheets, because under those covers you can almost convince yourself that warmth is coming from a place of genuine care. But that lie falls down, down, down into the cavern that used to be your sense of empathy, and it keeps falling until the air is filled with the echo of shattered porcelain, and you begin to realize how empty you’ve become in your search for another love.

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

“Raking away at already red wrists, as if self inflicted scars are the latest fashion trend, I’m racing towards another round of awkward conversations about an imaginary cat, a pair of clumsy feet, and a person who stopped caring a long time ago.”

Someday you’ll come to understand how I feel. You’ll wake up, and before you even get the chance to roll out of bed, an intense self-loathing will be simmering right beneath your skin. You won’t be able to make sense of it, and with every passing second the pressure of being alive will grind your ribs into chalk, leaving your heart entirely exposed. Nothing that you are experiencing will make any sort of sense. The stale apartment air will have raked away at your arms, leaving them as withered husks, floating as useless air, unable to hold on to even the lightest trace of hope. A guilt will begin to gnaw away at stomach lining, and your hands will prove even more useless as you fail to hold back the flood of doubt, fear and rage that comes roaring through those new holes in your humanity. With everything that you once called your own breaking rank in a mad dash to get out, the unavoidable emptiness of being alone will begin to sink in, and if it wasn’t for the fact that your autonomic nervous system was a thing, you would have given up swallowing air, as every mouthful is just another tablespoon of bubble gum flavored cough syrup; another poor attempt at drowning out the pain of living without love.

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

“It only took me a few seconds to realize my mistake, but by then the damage had already been done, and I lost more of myself to a stranger..”

I don’t know how you feel about me;

You never say what’s on your mind.

One day your all smiles and roses

And the next you treat me like a waste of time.

You loved me in the morning

But by Noon, you were nowhere to be found

And I’m sure before I go to bed

You’ll be there when I lay down


It’s never easy, you and me,

Because I love you wholeheartedly

And to you am just some body

To keep you warm…

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

“I am the Ocean, and you are my sandy shore, so are my tides trying to run away, or simply something lost returning home?”

Her scent is reminiscent

Of warm autumn draft,

And as her late October

Finds purchase under dead bark,

Every leaf left to me

Can do nothing else

But shrivel up into kindling

And obediently burn.  

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…~

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

“But I wanted more, and more, and before I knew it, you had the gun to my head, and I was begging for you to pull the trigger.”

Her breath circles on my tongue

Before falling into my blood,

And the chemistry is the same

As alcohol to flame.

She is bound to burn me down

To nothing more than desires

That I am ill equipped to resist…