Clogged toilet days

 I woke up this morning to a clogged toilet.  No guesses as to how my day’s gonna go.  Another morning where every muscle in both legs is locked up and useless.  All to look forward to is a wheelchair, a shitty breakfast, then the 9am smoke break.

My whole life feels like a clogged toilet. I’m a tourist in this long term care facility; were old people go die when no one’s left to care about them. It’s a softer kind of prison. With pain meds and angry Haitian women who will wipe your ass because they’re paid to.  I’m just passing through, too young to be give up on totally.
Funny thing is, this isn’t the first time that I almost died from alcohol and narcotics.  It happened once before. And this last time I came really close to dying. So much so, I broke my body. Maybe beyond repair. And the uncertainty of all that leads constantly to these clogged toilet days. Where are the shit that I am full of, backs up and reality and emotions spill out everywhere.

And I’m reminded of how I almost killed myself, yet again.  Of how close I came to death, And all I can seem to think, on these messy days is, if I had tried just a little bit harder, I’d have a lot less to worry about right now

12.05.16

broken southern angels
pine trees and single story little homes
left over from the 70's and 80's
all those humble families livin' the
American Dream
only now they're filled with two generations
of kids who have no purpose or point
so they turn to rocks and needles
pipes and tattooes
too many songs to feel justified
in forgetting what the grandparents
built believing better days were coming
somewhere along the way
these small southern towns
got tired and fat with too much
tv and cheese burgers and hero movies
technology made this lost place useless
a dull little hell
while we all wait for heaven
to hopefully find us

01.27.17

40 years seems like it should go by slower
these days, I look in the mirror and see this
fat old man with mostly white hair and I think
'who is this sad bastard? where did he come from?'

see, in my head, I'm not 40, I'm still a teenager
I still have the same thoughts and fears
that I had at 19, the same hopes and desires
there has been no progress in my emotional maturity

when lay in bed at night, I don't think about
retirement, 401k plans, my health, my goals
you know, grown up things, no
I think, 'should I masturbate or lay awake
worrying about nuclear war?'
the same thoughts I had as a teenager

when I was younger, I thought you just
magically grow up one day
never happened, don't think it's ever going to
I'm a 40 year old teenager
and it took so little time to get here
I'm scared of waking up tomorrow
a 60 year old teenager
still wondering what the hell happened
and where all the time went

bane of beauty

she moves like water flowing
gliding on the idea of her own beauty
not what it means to her,
what it means to the rest of the world
she sees the world through her own reflection
as she should, as is her right
for how many beautiful people
truly exist in this world?

I've always wandered what it would be like
to be loved for my looks, for something
I was born with, undeserving
but that's not me, never has been
I'm the other 98% of the human population

which is why I can appreciate her beauty
in a way she will never be able to
until she's old and it's gone
but for now
she shines
like a diamond
like a star
like something precious
that was put on this earth
just to remind
ogers like me
that human beauty is a rare and precious thing
mostly wasted
on the beautiful

drunk thoughts on a sunny afternoon

these days are piling up
like empty beer cans
like an ashtray overflowing with smoked butts

this technology
this damn civil society where need is a rarity
is too much for someone who
should've been born in another time
when bashing someone's head in was the modern day
alternative to working in fast food

there are no more great wars
no more ideas to fight for
we have outlived our own usefulness
or at least i have

Notes at 4:30am 10.15.30

Notes at 4:30am 10.30.15

searching for a noncosmetic solution to this financial dilema. Nothing coherent is waiting in my conscious mind. I'm chasing shadows of dusty dreams and rusted shut doors of perception.

Nothing matters as much as
the words, the meaning

some shady back room plot

to open eyes, open ears

open hearts, welcoming.

such a rare thing: audience
at times more precious
than gold

The lowly and lonely of us need love. It's an innate need. Built into the spine of the human experience. That light. That desire to be accepted. Not by the masses. But by the peers. Our freak lights have led to us....