Middling Human

 I'm not the best man in the world,
I'm not the worst man in the world...
I'm both and neither...
I've done some
Wonderful things,
And inspired others
At times...
I've done some
Absolutely horrible things...
Things I'm certain
Might even be considered
Abominations before God...
Being an apostate,
Having been christened
Catholic,
Is the absolute least
Of my
Crimes against humanity...
I have been spiteful and petty
At times,
Vengeful, wrathful, and jealous...
But I have also been tender and kind
At times...
Empathetic, understanding, and loving...
Objective and subjective,
Variably 
And simultaneously...
I am the observer
And the observed...
The predator 
And the prey...
This world is an illusion,
A playground
For consciousness...
A shared dream
Or a shared nightmare
Depending on how you choose
To see it...
It can appear to destroy you
Or it can appear to uplift you,
But, either way, 
It is only 
The appearance of motion...
Everything you asked for...
It rolls on
According to how you designed it,
Whether you realize it or not,
Whether your story
Is tragic or triumphant,
Or any possibility in-between...
Imagined sinusoidal wave forms
Interacting 
With imagined sinusoidal wave forms,
Interference patterns...
The movement of the void
Before time
Was even born...
I am just a quantum particle
Spinning...
I am a god...
And I am empty space,
Just like you,
Just like everyone and everything...
You exist,
Even now,
As you toil, and sweat, and struggle
To survive or self actualize,
In every dimension,
Timeless and all knowing,
Even if you know nothing...
I know nothing...
"Nothing" being what is...
Fractal projections of your will...
A work in progress
That will never be complete...
You can never fully know
Someone else
Precisely because
You can never fully know yourself...
We all overlap...
We exist in the same 
"Space" -
Just a mathematical point,
An idea...
A theory
That feels like reality...
Accelerating its expansion,
Both worthless and precious,
Wretched and holy...
A holographic projection
Of a holographic projection
Of a holographic projection,
Et cetera and so on...
Platonic shadows on the cave wall...
Turtles all the way down...
Every thought 
That's ever been had,
And every word that has never been spoken...
There is no such thing
As a new soul or an old soul...
There is just
Mathematical grammar...
A child watching a caterpillar
Liquefy itself
In a container of its own making...
Every teardrop is a choir of angels,
Whether of happiness
Or of grief...
The bell is ringing...
Class is about to begin...
Grab your backpack
Filled with the required books
And try not to be late...
You're already there...
You're not there yet...
This is all in the past...
You are already 
Vibrating in every possible frequency
On all possible levels
In every
Single
Possible
"Reality"...
Shifting realities is complex child's play...
Impossible to master
Given the nature of consciousness,
And yet
It is as easy as
Falling asleep...
A lucid dream...
Remember to look at your hands...
You are eternity...
But
If you knew this
From your current perspective
Consciously,
What fun would that be?
Journey -
"Through space and time, always another show..."
You are allowed this:
The joy of rediscovering 
You,
If you choose to remember
Who and what you really are...

If You Come Here Seeking Inspiration

 If you come here
Seeking inspiration,
Seek elsewhere...
I need it
Just as much as you do...
I am surrounded by mirrors,
But I can only see my surroundings...
I see no reflection...
I am a watcher
And a wanderer...
Both the observer 
And the observed, 
Camouflaged 
By apparent indifference...
There is a heart
In there 
Somewhere,
I can feel it beating,
And a soul that aches
For 
Something it 
Struggles to name,
But
I feel
These nameless things...
Strange stirrings
Again...
It happens in cycles...
Mary Shelley's creature
Would understand
All too clearly...
I don't know
What I am, 
Or who I am,
But I feel...
I don't know
Why I am here,
Or why I was formed,
Do any of us? Really?
But here I am...
I used to pour out
What I thought was my soul
On coffee house stages
To
Strangers...
Some became
Fair weather friends...
Could they see me?
Now I pour out
What I think is my soul
To strangers
In this online blog...
A few old friends
Give it a glance...
A few can even see me...
Sometimes 
I envy them, 
Because sometimes,
As I have already said,
I can't see me...
Surrounded by mirrors,
And I can't see me...
If the Universe,
Its totality,
Every dimension,
Every particle,
And every bit of matter,
Light and dark,
Had a consciousness, 
Can it see itself?
Or is it sleeping,
Like Lovecraft's Azathoth,
Dumbly dreaming us
Into existence...
Am I dreaming this?
Am I real,
Or velveteen?
Does it matter?
Regardless,
One foot in front of the other,
The millipede 
Slowly moves on
With smooth undulations...
I live in the mystery...
I have no choice,
But to do so...
I am unremarkable,
Because we all live here,
No matter 
The level of consciousness
Or awareness...
Whether you appreciate it or not,
All the beauty,
And all of the ugly...
It's
Just nature
Doing its thing...
Maybe I'll see you there,
Before the lights go down
At the coffee house...
Maybe I'll see myself
In the reflection of your eyes...

Even Silence

 Working with the elderly
Gives one a unique perspective
About how no one
Truly understands
What you're saying
When you say it...
Children and relatives
Of those with dementia, especially,
Lament how communication
Breaks down...
What they are trying to say
Doesn't come out right,
And, most definitely,
Isn't heard or understood
Correctly...
But this is just an exaggeration 
Of the fact
That no one can express a thought
Correctly... 
Exactly...
Some are better than others,
But even if a thought 
Could be expressed
Completely and correctly,
In general,
Even in "normal" conversation 
With a "normal"
Neurotypical mind,
The chances of being understood
Completely and correctly
Are nearly an impossibility...
Your words
Are colored By their thoughts...
By their beliefs and biases...
By their personal history...
And by their impatience or distractedness...
Even silence is often misunderstood...

Be Not Afraid

 "Be not afraid,"
The angel said to Ezekiel.
"Be not afraid..."
Of this interdimensional being
You can't even begin
To visually process...
I've made excuses
For decades...
Shielded my eyes
From the truth...
Armor plated my heart
To the possibility
Of hurt...
Subsequently,
I have broken my own heart
Many times 
Into many pieces...
Fear
Has ruled my life...
The root of
The anxiety and the depression
Has been/is
Fear...
Rabbit
Screams to Eagle,
"Don't eat me!"
Eagle hears this,
Zeroes in,
And feasts
On Rabbit's flesh...
This is my story...
What you fear
Consumes you...
Eventually,
It finds you,
And it destroys you...
I still think it's best
To speak your mind,
But make sure
It is you speaking,
And not your fears...
I have always over-shared
In conversation...
My fear speaking for me...
Neurotic and anxious,
Wielding it
Like shield...
This openness has,
Over the years,
Made some people
See me as fearless...
Brave for sharing
What to them
Looks like my soul...
But my soul
Is a small thing...
Boneless and unprotected
Like a jellyfish
With no sting...
Invisible as the air
You breathe,
But
Not nearly
As solid...
It hides beneath rocks
And rotting,
Moss covered logs...
It burrows
Deep into the soil,
Hiding from the light
Of the sun...
Cold like the belly
Of a salamander 
Excreting a protective coating
Of slime...
"Be not afraid..."
I have always been afraid...
Terrified
Of both living
And of dying...
Terrified of loving...
I did,
Eventually,
Learn somewhat
How to love...
In a way I could almost understand,
But never how and when
The people who needed it
Wanted it to happen...
Never how and when those
Who wanted it
And needed it
Could understand...
I know it is often fleeting...
People have, indeed,
Fallen out of love with me,
Because of how I am...
Do I not deserve it?
Of course, I deserve to be loved,
As insignificant 
A part of the Universe
As I am...
But it rarely happens how or when
I want it...
Want is different than need...
And need is different than to deserve...
The only reason I can discern
That I deserve it,
Is that every soul
Deserves at least a whisper
Of  love...
Even if an infinite number of souls
Could dance on the sharp tip
Of a needle...
That very last
Molecule
Of steel
That is everything
We can't see...
What we can't see
Is vastly greater
Than what we can...
I'm hiding right now,
Wrapping my hurt
In philosophical, 
Cosmological 
Prose...
I do that a lot...
If I get even close
To feeling an objective truth,
I mask it
With generalities
And superficialities...
Not knowing what you're saying
Can hurt people...
Knowing what you're saying
Can wound people...
Both lies and truths
Can make souls bleed
Just as profusely 
As silence...
"Be not afraid...
I am with you..."
Local reality doesn't really exist...
Phenomena don't exist
Until you observe them...
There has to be an observer,
But that observer
Often believes
That it has physicality...
Physicality
Is just an observation...
Nothing more...
And there I go again...
Constantly spinning...
Like quarks and anti-quarks...
Positive, negative, dark, and strange...
Here I go again,
Breaking things
As children are wont to do...
"Be not afraid,
For we are all one..."
That is the terrifying reality
Of  love.

Sometimes It's Too Late

 Some day,
Long into the future,
You may figure out
What love truly means...
Hopefully,
It won't be too late
For you...
I feel like it is for me...
I'm not a praying
Kind of person, 
But I am on my knees
Begging the universe
To let me know,
Without the crutch
Of organized religion,
That I can at least
Feel it...
Even if from a distance...
After a lifetime
Of numb...
Sometimes, 
Realistically speaking, 
It is, however,
Too late...
Maybe they'll still speak to you
After the decades of hurt
You added to
Someone's already existing
Lifetime of hurt...
Maybe they won't...
Most of us have a full plate 
Of hurt and woe
That we are trying
To heal from...
Don't be the asshole
That adds to the weight
Pulling them down...
She decided to respond to me
After a couple years
Of my searching,
Futilely,
For her "online" presence...
Turns out,
I couldn't do it alone...
Had to ask friends from home to help...
I don't know
What these feelings I'm now feeling
For her
Now,
Of all times,
Really are,...
Every time we got close
In the past,
I would run away
Like a scared little boy...
I ran 2,000 miles away
22 years ago...
And I'm feeling that regret...
I was running from other things, as well,
but she had a special place in that collection of fears...
The ghost of Christmas future
Lay in bed 
Next to the chair
I'm sitting in,
Right here,
Right now...
(He is a real person,
But "lay,"
Rather than "lie"
Still seems appropriate usage,
Right here,
Right now)...
Maybe he has experienced
Running
From someone,
Running from himself,
And punishing himself for it
Like I'm doing right now)...
I'm falling apart at the seams, 
And, since I am flesh and bone,
I can feel
Every
Stitch
As they break...
For more reasons than just this...
I have hurt many people
Over the years,
Stole their hearts
And consumed them...
Like a wolf,
Swallowed them whole,
Bloody and still beating...
Listen to me closely,
Sometimes
It 
Is
Too 
Late...
Life may still go on,
They may still even
Respond to your messages...
But 
Only so much hurt
Can be borne
before the dial tone
Is all you will hear...

Louise

 Maybe her emotions
Were too overwhelming...
Maybe that terrified him...
Maybe she saw things in him
He couldn't,
Wouldn't, 
See in himself...
Maybe
She was too much
Like looking in a mirror...
The chaos of thought,
The troubled turbulence of the past...
Maybe he was blind...
Maybe Noman pierced his eyes, 
Maybe he plucked them out himself
As a child...
Maybe he never knew who he was...
Maybe she was the warrior huntress,
And maybe
He ran away from everything...
Maybe he always had...
Maybe fear dictated his every action...
The years passed,
And the anxious waves still swell...
Rough seas are a natural phenomenon,
After all...
Maybe they were both drowning,
And he never knew
How to do anything,
But sink to the bottom
Hopelessly gasping for air...
Desperately grasping
For anything else,
Leaving her
And everything/everyone else
Behind,
Caught in the under-tow...
Cast out to sea by the cross-current...
Washed up on Circe's Island,
Far from home...
Maybe she could have been home...
Maybe she finally gave up
Because he was
Self-centered and cruel...
But "maybe" is self-indulgent,
And he was nothing
If not self-indulgent,
Pretending to be self-aware...
Maybe he should suffer now
For his past trespasses
Or maybe he should
Stop living in the past...
Maybe she still hurts...
Maybe anger still smolders...
Maybe he feels regret...
Maybe he thought
She was better off without him,
But maybe he was only
Thinking about himself...
Maybe he deserved what he got,
Years of self inflicted incarceration,
Wandering in the desert,
Drawn to mirages
Promising peace,
But stinging like scorpions...
But she didn't deserve to suffer for that...
Her plate was already too full...

The Falling Away

 Pruning away
The dead branches,
Sometimes...
Pruning away
Some of the living,
Sometimes...
Pieces of flesh
Falling
To the earth...
Does it decay,
And nourish the roots?
There are changes
Happening,
Inside,
Outside...
Not like the changing
Of the seasons,
But much like
The changing of the seasons...
Floating
In the center 
Of a sphere,
Totally enclosed...
The inner surface
Of the sphere 
Is jet black,
But polished
To a mirror shine...
"I am"
Is the only 
Thing
That can be seen...
"I think therefore I am"
Does not
Make this sensation
Real...
Does not make this "body"
Real...
The event horizon
Passes through itself,
Imprisons itself,
Destroys itself,
Frees itself,
And creates itself...
Re-creates itself...
Illusion upon illusion...
Pieces
Constantly falling away...
Steadily
Falling away...
Faster
And
Faster
And 
Faster
Just as the expansion
Of the universe
Is accelerating, 
Has been
Accelerating 
Since 
Its non-existent,
Impossible 
Beginning...
A birth
That never was...
A birth
That was
And was not...
It sprung from
The earth,
It grew
In the
Vacuum of space,
The vacuum of space grew
From a consciousness
Fractured
Into
Infinity...
This may sound like
"God,"
But that is not
How this story began...
This is a metaphor...
This is physics
And mathematics
And quantum flux...
It
Feels
Like
Falling...
Not Falling in love...
Just falling...
These are emotions
Being expressed...
These are just words...
In the beginning,
There was turmoil,
Superheated plasma
And chaos...
Something,
Nothing, 
Pulling itself inside out,
Tearing itself apart,
Putting itself back together,
Over
And
Over
And 
Over...
Pruning away
The dead branches...
Traveling 
The same roads
In different ways...
Pruning away
The living
To shape the corpus 
In some
Communicatable 
Way...
Emotion
Suddenly
Sprung into being,
Eternally writhing
In and around itself...
Vipers
Overwintering
Inside an infinite sphere 
Constantly recreating
Itself/themselves
In a futile attempt
To figure out
Just what they are,
And why they came to be...
These words
Are not
A creation mythology...
These words are emotions
Being expressed...
x

Rather Be White Fang, Than Hannibal Lecter

 A recent dream I had threw me back into reminiscence of my worst moment...
There have been many
Bad moments...
Some where death was just millimeters away from happening...
There were 25 years of physical agony...
No shortage of anxiety and depression...
No shortage of people fucking with my fucked up head...
This, that, the other...
Yadda, yadda, yadda...
I'm feeling sorry for myself,
Yeah;
Though I'm not asking for pity...
But, although my being in Texas with her
was basically me running away from my problems
in Connecticut,
The worst moment of my life
Was when she
Point blank
Told me, monotone and deadpan, 
That she had stopped loving me...
That one, single moment
Crushed me...
It's when I lost my soul...
Or 
That's how it felt...
Straight forward, black and white...
Worse than her waning passion...
Worse than waking up from that nine day coma back in 2014...
Waking up from that, seeing her face, was one of the best moments...
I was alive, and I could spend the rest of my life
With her...
Or so I thought at that moment in time...
I had my ups and downs...
But what I felt for her was constant...
Until I found out it was not reciprocal...
Life still sometimes feels like some nightmarish phantasm...
A continuous fever dream...
On the surface,
There were many rationalizations I tried to make
To make it make sense...
Parts of me wishing
That everything since almost dying
Was just my mind wandering
While my body still lay in a coma,
On life support,
In a cold hospital ICU...
The cynical side of me
Believed it was because I couldn't provide,
For a short time,
Because of the hole in my chest...
(Literally, 
I had an ostomy bag attached to me for about two months -
Not sanitary for a high stress food service job...)
She thought she had to sell all her gold...
Metaphorically and in reality...
The empath and optimist in me
Tried to believe that my near death
Scared her so much that she didn't want to
Have to face that terror
Ever again,
And shut down her emotions...
Go on, you're free!!!
Get outta here!!!
Her way of throwing rocks 
At White Fang
So he would go back to the wild...
Then back to the cynic...
Maybe she truly believed that I caused her sister
To have that heart attack...
That I was responsible for her dying,
Scared and alone...
As if I could snuff out a life hundreds of miles away
With a word...
Maybe she believed I had no soul...
Maybe she believed I only cared about me...
Maybe she actually saw me as
A murderer of sorts...
Maybe it was how I sat
Stunned
At my computer
When I heard the news
As she cried
And did not comfort her
Or embrace her...
But she had long ago started to
Move away from me
If I tried to be physically near her,
Seemed repulsed by my touch,
Why would she want me to touch her now?
I ran all these thoughts,
And more,
Through my mind,
Trying to understand,
When she matter-of-factly stated she had stopped loving me...
Even when she told me she wished
I had died that night when my small intestine perforated,
And the sepsis stopped my breath,
Code blue...
When the inflammation of my organs pushed my heart
Several inches to the left...
Those words didn't hurt nearly as much as knowing that I had lost her...
Lost her love...
Lost her respect...
Became just another shitty ex-husband of hers that she would retell the horrors
Of enduring to any ear that would listen...
Anything else she said about me no longer mattered...
Two more ex-wives for me in a matter of 3 years
Trying to get over Weedon Scott throwing rocks at White Fang...
Emotional disasters,
Two more divorces in a matter of three and a half years,
That I now have little to no feeling for through the numb...
An old friend tried to talk sense into me by the third marriage,
but I responded poorly, cruel and self-righteously...
They were just alcohol to an alcoholic...
Heroine for a junkie...
Just me self-medicating what felt like the loss of my soul,
If indeed I ever had one...
I may as well have been raised by wolves...
Half human,
Half wild animal...
And mother nature seems to have no conscience...
Nature just survives...
Does horrible things to do so...
Causes mass extinctions when it fucks up...
The rise of plants that give us the oxygen we need to survive
Nearly killed off every other living thing that existed before them...
Nearly...
So,
Organic life on Earth is cruel...
Imperfect...
It is cold-hearted...
Competitive and bloodthirsty,
(Even when it only needs sun and earth and water to grow...)
And its mistakes often cause global catastrophes...
Where is the perfection that optimists try to say is in,
For instance,
The beauty of a sunrise?
That sun that will one day expand and incinerate this blue green orb?
I soldier on...
One day I'll go back home to the North-East...
Try to forget...
Laugh with old friends and family by a bonfire
Or a pot-bellied stove 
While the snow piles up outside...
One day my ashes will be spread over the rolling hills of my birth place...
One day,
Hopefully, 
Far in the distant future,
I will close my eyes
And sleep that forever sleep
After finally understanding what peace means
A moment before my energy is recycled,
And that dark curtain falls...

A What the Actual Fuck Kind of Nightmare

Had put on some meditation music.
Theta waves.
Binaural beats.
Sleep came slowly.
Then, suddenly, I was in an old house
In Storrs-Mansfield, CT,
Where I used to live in the 90's.
It looked like it had been abandoned for years,
All dust, decay, and disrepair,
But there were many more rooms inside
Than the outside could possibly contain,
Like the TARDIS from Dr. Who.
Still,
There seemed to be a college style party going on
Inside and outside. 
People making out in various dusty corners.
Some people I knew.
Some I didn't.
Some were celebrities.
Everybody was dressed down like they were homeless.
My first wife was with me,
And we were, apparently, on acid or some other hallucinogen,
Much like everyone else there. 
We seemed to be having a good time.
Seemed to be affectionate towards each other.
Then, suddenly, I had my two ferrets cradled in my arms,
And I was freaking out that this wasn't a safe place for them.
I kept trying to find somewhere to put them so they wouldn't get lost or hurt.
One of them had apparently swallowed a handful of coins.
Dimes, nickels, quarters.
I kept trying to squeeze them out of her with a gentle Heimlich maneuver. 
She periodically vomited them out
Until I couldn't feel any more coins in her belly.
She seemed otherwise okay,
But they both kept getting away from me.
I kept gathering them up and looking for a safe place for them.
In between all this,
I somehow lost my pants
While making out with the ex
While still holding my ferrets in the crook of my left arm.
Keegan-Michael Key,
For some reason, joined in on the search for a safe place.
"Do I have pants on?" I asked
As we came to a large wooden door.
"Nope. You're pants are gone, bro," he replied.
"Oh, well. No time to worry about that," I said, and continued the quest.
The inside of the house was a maze,
And each room seemed to be styled after various time periods throughout history
Like some strange Indiana Jones repository of historical relics.
Wound up alone on the roof with my ferrets...
Still looking for a secure cubby to stash them in
Until whatever hallucinogen I was on wore off.
It looked like the top of an Incan steppe pyramid.
Some kind of cherub (The cupid type, but still sinister) was staring at me from a distance.
It did not give off a terribly "Be not afraid" vibe.
My coin purse ferret had abruptly lost most of her hair,
And was suddenly soaking wet,
But otherwise seemed healthy.
I wandered back down into the house with them.
My ex wife was suddenly back accompanying me,
Trying to help find a secure place for them
Back through the multi-time period labyrinth of a house
Looking for materials to possibly rig a secure hutch they wouldn't escape from.
Someone gave me a brownie of some sort.
Thought I lost a tooth, but it turned out to be a walnut piece covered in chocolate goo
After I fished it out of my mouth.
The ferrets kept disappearing from my arms
And appearing a few feet ahead of me,
Underfoot of the people at the party.
I was quite athletic in constantly bounding ahead and re-capturing them.
I don't know what event finally woke me up,
But it seemed terrifying.
I sat up in bed with a gasp.
My first words on waking?
"Oh, my God! I'm still in love with Tami...
Fuck me!"
(This was not a feeling I welcomed, and I had no desire to make amends...)
I turned on the lights in the real world and woke up my sleeping ferrets to give them kisses,
Relieved that they were safe.
The residual emotions were confusing and complex.
They lingered for a while.
I had to tell myself, out loud,
It's okay to have those feelings about her.
It's okay, I guess,
To love someone who hates you,
Who doesn't respect you,
As long as you're no longer with them.
As long as you just try to keep on living your life,
Only see them in dreams.
Love can be fucked up that way.
Emotions like that are still not something I even come close to understanding.
But, I love my ferrets,
My surrogate children for the innumerable children I almost, but never, had...
They, those two fuzzy little weasels of mine,
Are my anchor to any kind of "Emotional stability,"
After my having spent a lifetime dealing with loss after loss...
Sometimes my own doing,
Sometimes not.
Shit happens.

Tequila Drunk T-Rexes on Valentines Day Just After Midnight

 8 minutes until Valentine's day
And I'm close to finishing off 
A bottle of tequila
I bought about 8 or 9 months ago...
Apparently,
I couldn't even pay someone
To share it with me...
It got opened
About a week ago...
I don't often drink,
But I've been
Psychologically
Beating myself up
More than usual
The past two years...
I've taken a few shots a night
For the past week...
It was supposed to be for something special...
Maybe, originally,...
Well,
Happy Valentine's Day,
There is no one special,
Not in "that" way,
In my life right now...
No one
That wants to be...
Again,
Not in "that" way...
Untouchable...
Undesirable...
Yeah, I know,
Everyone has their reasons...
Everybody has their own problems...
I've never really "fit in"...
Either a unicorn or a freak...
Too intelligent for my own good...
Too off the beaten path
To be intimate with...
This wasn't always the case...
I used to be pursued
Like a valuable sexual commodity...
Now,
Although I'm still attractive,
Well,
That's all I've got...
And intimacy
Always has a cost...
Emotionally, physically, monetarily, intellectually, etc.,...
Even a one night stand
Has some kind of 
Emotional tariff
Placed on the act,
In the very least...
The more I starve,
The less people are available
To give me
That kind of sustenance...
Yeah,
I'm Buzzed
And feeling sorry for myself...
Aside from being buzzed -
Same shit, different day...
Money's tight -
Decreases desirability...
Morose with a negative,
Nihilistic attitude -
Decreases desirability...
Agnostic with a growing animosity
Towards "faith" -
Decreases desirability...
No,
Don't try to lecture me
Or raise my spirits,
Let me indulge in this negativity
Like a poultice on a boil
Pulling all the poison to the surface...
Sometimes
You have to squeeze that zit
Until it pops,
And bleeds,
And the poison
Splatters on the mirror...
It's relieving,
In a manner...
Sometimes,
It's necessary...
Rock bottom
Gives you a firm place to 
Put your feet
Before you can push yourself
Back up to the surface...
But it's stormy seas up there,
And the surface may have waves
Whipped up by the perfect storm...
1,000 foot tsunamis 
Ready to to roll over
Entire coastal cities...
Breaking news...
The latest headline
Full of self-destruction and chaos
From vapid promises
And nonsensical claims...
Unicorn dreams
And passing promises
That will never come to pass...
I need to go home...
Leave this state...
And I don't just mean my mental state...
I mean Texas...
Drifted down here 22 years ago
Chasing someone's mom's pussy...
Yeah, I said it...
"Helping a friend"
Is the excuse I used for
"Running away from my problems"...
I was
Getting out of Dodge...
And, soon enough,
It will be time to
Get out of Dodge again
And head back East...
Once again,
Time to run away...
I'm tired of this place...
I'm tired of me in this place...
I'm sick to death
Of living in this
Backwards "red" state...
Odysseus 
Finally returning to Penelope,
Even though there is no Penelope
To return to...
Now it's 34 minutes
And 5 shots into
February 14th...
Work in the morning...
I already know
I won't even have a hangover...
I've tested those waters
Over the past week...
Tomorrow after work
I'll finish off the three fingers of tequila
Alone and untouched
By anyone but my own hand
And some lube...
If you think that's too graphic,
Then you don't really know me
All that well...
Oh, well...
Time to watch some news clips
About the U.S. and Canada
Shooting down 3 ufo's over
This past weekend...
Than maybe some sleep...
Maybe even dreams...
I've started remembering them again...
Only recently...
Lucid, and vibrant,
And sometimes terrifying
In an entertainingly Hollywood fashion...
If only they didn't all involve my exes,
My failures,
And fairly energetic T-rexes...
Don't ask...
I don't know what the T-rexes
Are doing there either...

06-23-2015 (Eight Months After Almost Dying)

 I've been the one everyone loves.
I've been the one everyone hates.
I've been the one doubled over in pain on the floor,
More times than I can count.
I've been the one to abandon a friend in need.
I've been the one to literally give someone the shirt off of my own back.
I've been the one to turn a blind eye.
I've been the one to protect the innocent.
I've been the one to take innocence away.
I've been the one to defend an enemy.
I've been the one to teach hard lessons.
I've been the one that needed to learn.
I've been the one stalked by the psychologically unstable.
I've been the one stalking as the psychologically unstable.
I've been the one who lives in the shadows.
I've been the one who flourishes in the light.
I've been the one who dissipates in the wind.
I've been the rock unscathed by sand and wind.
I've been the one who turned and ran.
I've been the one who went down with the ship.
I've been the one who did everything wrong.
I've been the one who did everything right.
The outcomes were usually the same,
But something has changed...
25 years of misdiagnosis after misdiagnosis.
25 years of raging against the thought that
This was going to be the rest of my life.
25 years of aggressively hanging on to thin shreds of "normal" life.
25 years of plain and simple torture:
Gone in an instant...
The one thing that's been there through everything I've been through
Has been that pain.
Some habits are hard to break.
There is nowhere to direct that force of will
in a way that I have become accustomed.
And there has been adjustment;
Major changes in who I am, thought I was, and will be.
There's been some collateral damage,
but they'll grow past it, eventually,
a fading memory,
Que sera, sera.
Sometimes we are served harshly by karma;
Sometimes we are the tool of karma serving someone else.
I didn't ask for any of this
to happen the way that it did,
But here it is...
And it was exactly what I'd asked for
for 25 years.
I've been the one who learned to surf
no matter what the weather was doing
through the changes
and the shear physical agony.
I've been the one to take the ronin warrior's path,
No master to serve,
Neither good nor bad,
Both remarkable and invisible,
Ready for the next chapter to be revealed:
The long ascent from the darkness can begin.
And the questions...
So many questions that must be asked
as the fog slowly clears from a 25 year long haze
where the only spare mind I had left to function in the public world
was dropping fries into grease,
Or something similar,
On and off,
For decades...
Something has abruptly changed...
Waking up
takes time...
Some people need to know.
Some people don't even need to know.
Eyes tight -
No time left for those types.
I can only handle the people who truly see...
x

Wicker Ego Trap

 It's like giving up...
Like falling away...
Slipping out
Of a skin of illusion
Leaving only naked
Mystery beneath...
Mystery
Is not always pretty...
It can be graphic 
And profane...
Sometimes
It can turn
The strongest stomach
Sour...
But isn't it worth it?
The illusion
Is just a sleeping pill
Designed to keep you
Pliable and posable...
A medical grade silicone sex doll
Built around a rigid skeleton...
That's all we are...
Sure,
We walk,
We talk,
We think we are free...
But we're not free,
And everything has a cost...
Kill to live...
Destroy to create...
There's always a trade-off...
There is no true freedom...
Just this cage...
Not your body, mind you,
That's not the cage...
If you escape your
Corporeal vehicle/container,
You simply slip out
Into a larger seeming cage...
There's a Fractal representation
Of your confinement...
The more times you escape,
The deeper into the actual cage
You go...
Try to feel free...
If you can...
But that is another layer of the trap...
You can't escape the cage
When you are the cage...
And you
Are what cages you...
The thing that holds you back...
The thing that breaks your heart...
The thing that kills you in the end...
That's all you...
That thing that keeps you
Struggling to find peace
Is your mind,
Whatever is the essence of you
Is what limits you...
Your attachment 
To what makes you you
Is your cage...
The ego trap...
The "I, me, my"
Is what keeps you from becoming
Everything else...
Think about
A Chinese finger trap...
That is your ego,
That woven tube of wicker
Is not all that you are,
But it is everything
You believe yourself to be...
So,
Of course,
The closest you can get
To freedom
Is to give up
On trying to be free...
It's fucked up,
But
That's the way it is...
It's all just
Quantum soup...
Energy
With no idea what to do with itself
While it vainly tries
To figure out
What to do with itself...
That's what this world is...
Energy perceiving its own chaos, 
And trying to organize
What can never be
Properly organized...
There is no grand plan...
There is only the futile hope
That there is some grand plan...
Twisting and turning 
Into and out of itself
Creating more and more complex patterns
That all still add up
To zero
Once the math is complete. 
x

Casamigos Tequila Blanco and a Side of Self-Pity

 Ran into an old roommate 
Eight or nine months ago...
She suggested we rent a hotel room and drink tequila shots...
Casamigos Tequila Blanco, Jalisco Mexico...
I bought the bottle...
Then proceeded to get blown off
Every time I mentioned
That I had gotten the bottle...
Maybe she thought I 
Was trying to get into her pants...
Maybe she thought I was
Too creepy...
Maybe she didn't even mean what she suggested...
Just words to keep me from getting too close...
It was her idea...
The tequila, the motel room...
But... 
Maybe those were just words
To keep me at a distance
With no intention or desire
To waste a day talking 
And getting a buzz...
Maybe they were just lies...
But I kept that bottle
Unopened,
And asked,
Once a month,
If it was a good time
To implement her plan...
It never was...
There was always an excuse...
I just wanted someone to talk to,
To hang out with...
Sex would have been welcome,
But that wasn't my I intention...
I just wanted to hang out with a "friend".. 
But, for some reason, I come off as
A bit creepy...
I live off the beaten path...
I don't have much to offer,
But interesting conversation
And blue humor...
Eventually, I gave up trying...
She had no interest
In my "friendship"...
*
So, I held onto the bottle,
Unopened,
As if it were something special...
But it wasn't...
It was just a bottle of poison...
*
Then
I asked another "friend"
To share that bottle with me...
It was bought
To be shared...
She agreed to the proposition,
But
I didn't know that she was married...
I didn't realize 
That her acceptance of my offer
Were just words
With no intention of follow through...
And then her husband,
A man I knew,
A man I had cared for
Professionally,
Passed away...
I hold nothing against her...
I would still like to consider her a friend,
But I know her agreeing to hang out
With that bottle of Casamigos
Were just words...
There was no intention to get together...
Once again,
Probably thought I was just trying to get in her pants,
And said whatever
To keep me at a distance...
I mean, I wouldn't have minded,
But I didn't know she was married...
Facebook profile said "single"...
That's how life goes...
Not many people are honest with their spoken intentions...
*
But still,
I kept the bottle unopened
Just in case
There were some truth
To her words...
People say
What they think you want to hear,
But they rarely follow through
With what those words say...
*
So, tonight,
I'm taking shots from that bottle
Alone...
*
I haven't written under the influence
Of alcohol
In quite a number of years...
But that bottle has aged enough...
And no one I know
That drinks
Deserves to share it with me...
Shit,
They don't even want to
Despite their empty words...
*
I'm attractive...
I'm interesting...
But
I'm off the beaten path,
And as much as people may say
They appreciate 
The path less taken,
They rarely want to take that path...
*
And that leaves me
Feeling alienated and strange...
Like I'm from some other planet...
Like I have tentacles
Instead of arms and legs...
Like I have eye stalks like a slug
I stead of these strikingly blue eyes.. 
*
They don't deserve me,
And I don't deserve them...
Any romantic interest I have,
Is not interested in romance with me...
Maybe they'll accept friendship, 
If I have something to offer...
But that's the basic limit...
If I have something pragmatic to offer...
*
If I even mention physical desire or needs,
I am politely reprimanded,
Or outright lied to...
And this gets tiring...
So very fatigued by the Potemkin village
Of closeness...
I need more than a hug.. 
I need more than conversation...
I need someone to actually want me...
And, despite what people tell me,
No one actually wants me...
Not like that...
*
I'm just a tool 
To be used
To fix broken things...
A toy maker
On the island of misfit toys...
And once the toys are "fixed,"
Well,
I'm just a placeholder
To fill idle time...
Like a clock on a wall...
And how often
Do you touch that clock
Unless the battery needs changing...
*
I may have a few friends here in Texas,
But not the kind
That give me reason to stay...
Not the kind that will hold me
Through that long, dark night
Of the human soul...
*
I am expected
To tend to their needs,
But my needs
Remain
Empty...
Untouched...
Generic and blank...
*
And, yeah, I'm being selfish...
But I'm getting tequila drunk...
Writing like Hemingway,
And acting a fool...
*
No one wants to share this bottle with me,
So I may as well
Polish it off myself...
*
Funny thing,
The only woman I really want to be with
Is 16 years older than me,
And has sworn off relationships...
We talk, quite intimately at times,
But I'm her mother's care taker...
Conflict of interest...
And if I admitted my feelings for her,
Well,
That's, again, a conflict of interest...
And I could lose my job...
*
So,
Silence it is...
This bottle gets shared with no one...
(She's not much of a drinker, regardless)...
So I'll let flow this self-pity right here...
In the "privacy" of my blog...
*
Some people are listening...
A few people in Germany,
A couple in Canada,
And a few devoted American friends...
6 or 7 regulars read through my self pity
And might actually think 
That it's semi-gifted prose...
But it's really just me
Crying out for help
That will never really come...
*
Anyways,
It's been years since I've written prose
While under the influence of alcohol...
It's usually weed, or valerian root, or various other pharmaceuticals and herbs
That when you take enough,
It hits a little bit of reality...
12 or so valerian root capsules is
Nearly as effective as 1.5 MG of diazepam 
In the very least.. 
*
One way to stave off
The existential terror
Of always feeling like the outsider
Looking in...
And I am always the outsider
Looking in...
There is no one
That I have not
Somehow offended...
I am often gently chastised
For overstepping
People's limits...
Always treated with kid gloves
When I become too honest...
So I, more and more,
Keep my thoughts to myself...
Except for now,
Buzzed on tequila,
And breaking down my walls...
Hemingway,
Running with the bulls,
And destroying the loves of his life
With his "sexy poetry"...
So much love and passion to give,
But too terrified
To be openly honest
To those that need to hear it,
Because I don't think they would take me seriously,
Or because I feel I would damage the tenuous tenderness 
That might actually exist...
*
Always on the verge of tears,
But too weak to admit to the truth
Since there are rules
Associated with human interaction...
*
We aren't allowed to be honest
Because honesty
Can destroy intimacy....
Intimacy can destroy honesty...
And naked honesty
Can destroy respect...
So many things I can not say
Because if I were totally honest 
It would destroy "friendships"...
*
I can't say that I would love to
Undress you
And have my way with you...
I would settle for so much less,
Just intimate conversation,
Even though
I imagine you naked
With my lips and tongue on all of your parts...
That seems disrespectful...
But I can't help but to want those things...
So I keep it to myself...
So many beautiful women in my life,
Who have given up on romance...
And those are the ones I'm drawn to...
*
That's pretty fucked up...
I always want
What I can't have...
I always want
The ones who don't want me that way...
*
So, that bottle of Casamigos,
I initially bought
At the request
Of an ex roommate
Who said she wanted to
Drink it
With me
At a Motel 6.. 
Well, that, like so many other things,
Was just empty bullshit words...
Words written/spoken
By people who had no interest in me...
People who were very likely
Creeped out
By the thought of me
Possibly wanting them...
*
People saying what they said
Hoping I would just give up,
And go away...
*
Texas,
My first wife brought me here...
Aside from a few loans,
There is nothing left for me here...
Aside from one friend that I occasionally visit,
There is is nothing left for me here...
Just loneliness and bills and a bottle of tequila promised to a woman who was lying through her teeth
That she might have wanted to spend time with me...
And that's just pitiful and sad...
I am Bone dry tired of being sad...
Bone dry tired of wanting people
Who just want to play games with my heart...
Bone dry tired of being so empty and alone...
*
That's all...
I'm done...
*
As soon as my loans are paid off,
I'm out of of this place...
Texas has no more hold on me
Once my financial obligations are through...
*
So long, and thanks for all the fish...