One day

And the look she gave me when she found out

was a mixture of pain and regret

with disbelief and, of course,..

anger, the anger that turns your vision red
The anger that hides

her the quivering lower lip of dis-trust and the tears of betrayal streaming down her face.

I did not intend to cause her so much pain and so many tears.

I got caught in my addiction.

So many years and weeks and days of

honesty

sincerity,

faithfulness

trustworthiness

shattered and now rent useless.

Cutting into her chest with a razor-sharp wood chisel, slowly stripping the skin off her ribs, would be less painful.

Breaking her exposed ribs one by one, would be less painful.

It was me, piercing her exposed trusting heart, with my selfish behavior

that causes me to be guilt ridden
labeled "betrayer!!"

and the shatter-er of lives.

and it started not too long ago, ....

One day I was bored, nothing more nothing less,....

Confident in myself, I thought about a short escape from reality.

other people can look,...... once

other people can taste,........... once

it had been so many years since I have done either,

and with the years of accomplishment as my justification,
I believed I was like the other people that can taste,... just,..... once.

One day I was bored, nothing more nothing less,...

That one day, no one was home, it had been a rough week at work and the family was at one of the kids ball games without me. I was alone and bored.

That day I took a look and had a taste, not too much,.... just enough to time-warp past the boredom.

When the family got home, I was cool,

... and no one knew what I had done.

The family was talking to me, but in the back of my mind, I was playing again and again and again, that secret-feeling, not hearing a word they say, I just wanted that secret-feeling again.

All of a sudden everyone was laughing at what my oldest had just said,

I not listening

missed the humor,

missed the spontaneity of the moment

missed the moment of family love and togetherness.

I laughed, not knowing why, ...
and inside I felt guilty and alone, ...an outsider to my close, loving family.

Just a few hours ago had a small taste and I am now thinking more of that,.

than being with those that I love so much.

The next day, using my self-inflicted guilt I tried to push that secret-feeling away,

but the work too stressful

the traffic too much

the money too little

blended with my guilt.

The secret-feeling wants me and I want it.

Living in the anxiety that makes my head explode I search for relief, and find it in the fantasy of using again.

The fantasy turned into a goal.
With the goal in mind I created a plan,
The plan gave me focus and my anxiety went away and I felt like I had control of my life.

That day, I left work earlier than normal, and got home later than normal.

By the time I got home,
I had missed the dinner table conversations
so I did not have to fake laughing at a missed joke,

By the time I got home,
the kids were in their bedrooms already
so I did not need to look into their precious trusting, crystal clear eyes.

by the time I got home,
the kids were asleep
So I did not have to give them hugs and remember how important they are to me.

by the time I got home,
I could justify just going to sleep
so I did not have to hide the telltale signs of usage from my wife.

I passed out, not feeling the guilt,

I passed out and not feeling the anxiety

I passed out not feeling the love.

I passed out not feeling.


This was the first day that led to me
to be guilt ridden
labeled "betrayer!!"

and the shatter-er of lives.

boy crying

the little boy begin carried by his mother

looking over her shoulder crying

screaming

DAAAD

daddy

daddy

DAAAAAAd,

and his older brother looks back to see his dad as they move out of of sight

gets a slap to the back of his head and stern words from his mother.

and as I turn the corner I see a man with a tissue with water filled eyes

using the the tissue to blow his nose and hide his emotionally ravaged countenance.

sniffling as if he has a cold or in his truth crying uncontrolably

crying as if it was his fault for the previous scene,

I put myself here

And I cant stand the thought,... that I put myself here

choked up

tear filled

stomach wrenching from the pain

pain of longing for

pain of needing

pain of so desperately wanting to be with

one more touch

one more hug

to smell their hair one more time

my very core

and my heart

are now both void and hollow without you.

I can't find enough distractions to ease my pain, to ease my guilt.

The death metal that can rip the skin off my bones as it erupts through my speakers has no effect.

I am numb to the disgust of the cockroaches crawling across my feet.

Numb is all I can hope for,....

my pain,

my agony and

my regret

it is ALL my fault.

I, . . . . . did the abandoning.

I destroyed the utopia, thinking that it would all work out.

The movies always show living happily ever after, our life had been a wonderful storybook, so it should end happily ever after.

but like the only survivor of a plane crash in the desert, it is, I, who tries to survive.

To live one more day.

using images of you,

the hope of seeing you,

the need to hold you and breath you in again

to get drunk looking into your eyes

to hear you laugh, one more time

I the solitary survivor - do what I need to

to live one more day.

and my self inflicted torment makes my sick

food wants nothing to do with me.

something is trying to rip its way out of my chest.

I am suffocating on my loneliness.

The music can't get loud enough.

I can't write enough.

I can't become numb enough to forget

forget the way you can get soooo mad

forget your cute little phrases

forget your never ending smile.

The homeless have shelters.

The suicidal have hot-lines.

But for me there is no help for me while I survive the loneliness.

no help from the repeating thought,

I put myself here

its my fault - I put myself here

I put myself here

its my fault - I put myself here

I put myself here

The ATL trams brokedown

the inhumanity of people pushing and shoving
parents dragging children, pushing them to take another step
another step
another step,...
beyond their exhaustion.
the few belongings they can carry are clutched on-to for dear life.

One family forced to decide should they leave their meager belongings or their child 's precious property, those little things that make the child feel safe and secure. The parents have only enough strength for one or the other and no time for compromise, so they choose.
.
.
.


And the back pack that looks like a teddy bear is trampled and kicked around, its guts spilling as the mob runs. Her favorite scarf, her princess tierra, the stuffed toy she has had for the last 3 years spill out of the now dead teddy bear. And I caught up on the horror am about to kick it out of my way when it rolls and looks at me, with one of its eyes now missing, and scuff marks that looks like sad little tears on its precious soft fleece face.

a symbol for what has happened, a lost soul with no one to love it during this most dreadful of times.

but my moment of mourning is broken by a shove and a woman part crying, part screaming with the most dreadful tone imaginable saying "Oh my god I can't believe this is happening to us"

And then I hear the gamut of "God Damn" and "God bless" and "God save us",....... But God has nothing to do with the horor unfolding, even he, the killer of millions, the one that turned Lot's beloved wife to salt, the one that killed David and Bathsheba's baby boy, could not have come up with this torturous day.

Some sit exhausted, they have given up, no fight left in them resigned to the fate that will come.

Some couples urge each other on to break through the wall of exhaustion and get their much needed "second wind"

And a few that chose to shed themselves of their possessions, run, run as if their life depended upon it, refusing to be trampled by the hoard. They dodge in and out of the masses, occasionally pushing someone out of their way and jumping over the little children that wander into their path. They will survive!

the confusion
the disbelief
some just stay frozen in the shock of the moment.

Some people try to maintain civility and politeness and humanity, but such efforts are lost on the too many trying to get through.

The pregnant lady, even she must fend for herself, her impregnater and protector in another town can do nothing to help. Her protruding, soon to be bundle of joy, right now is a horrible encumbrance that threatens her very existence, if she were a kangaroo she could leave her joey to be trampled and in doing so save herself.

And the few entrepreneurs that believe in money, betting that there will be a tomorrow, stake out a corner to sell only the basics, bottles of water, days old sandwiches, anything quick to grab and eat on the run.

Some fearing this be the last nourishment for hours make the purchase. They are frustrated and outraged by the incredibly high prices for such simple items, but there is no time to argue, so they hurriedly pick items pay for them then run away trying to make up for the lost time.

And the ladies with their fashionable shoes finally relent, and for the first time in years walk without heals, walking barefoot, foot flat on the floor, they trip over their pants that are now 4 inches too long, but they soon remember how to walk, and soon they too are running with the crowd.

my life is normal

my life is normal

i have a mom and a dad that have never lived together

my dad married a new wife, when I was little

and now I have baby sister,

my life is normal

I have two moms and one dad

I get along with my little sister

and now I have a baby brother

so,.. when I'm there its 3 girls to 2 boys

Girls Rule!

I will be 9 in a few months

so at my dad's I get to have birthday cake fiiiivvvee times every year.

my life is normal

I have different rules to follow when I am at my mom's than when I am at my dad's

just like there are rules for when you are at school like (stay in line) that are different from rules on the field trip to the children's museum (go explore, touch everything)

there are rules for when you are in the house, like (USE YOUR indoor voice) then when your outside you can talk normal

just like rules when you talk to adults are different then when you are are playing with your friends.

i have different rules when I am with my mom than when I am with my dad and other mom.

with my mom we have lots of secrets we can't tell my dad,

when I keep those secrets I feel special and important and I need to protect my mom

but with my dad and other-mom, . . . they never tell me to keep secrets

and I feel confused and guilty for keeping secrets

but, my life is normal

I am still in the first grade because I missed so many days of school

at my mom's each week there is a different uncle that visits

sometimes they play too loud all night long and sometimes they get into fights that last all night so,....I don't always get a lot of sleep and can't wake up in time for the bus to school.

the first 10 times I missed the bus I tried waking my mom to tell her so she could drive me to school

but since my mom has been up all night also she can't help me

so,...its really my fault I don't get to the bus stop, no matter how tired i am i really should get to the bus stop

my life is normal

when I go to my dad's

The first thing I have to do is take a bath, my other-mom washes my hair and we talk about the plans for the next few days, and sometimes I splash her with water and she splashes me back, . . . . . . . . once we splashed each other so much the water got on the carpet in the hallway.

I like the way I feel after a bath, my hair feels nice and soft, and the slight scent of soap on my skin, its like i am alive again and have no worries. and can do anything.

I like it when my other-mom brushes my hair as I sit in her lap, and

I really like the hugs and kisses from them both.

my life is normal

when I am at my dad's house they go outside to smoke cigarettes.

when I am at my mom's house she smokes inside the house and when the uncles are there

they smoke out of this big plastic thing that makes a gurgling sound, they sometimes cough and then laugh as they wipe a tear from their eyes,

then some times I see them in the living room putting their head close to the coffee table then sit up, I think they have the sniffles and are sucking it in ,. . . . .

Thats GROSS !

they should use a tissue like my other-mom tells ME to do.

A few weeks ago when we had that earthquake,

they let us out school early and when I got home my mom didn't know so she just slept through me knocking at the door. . . .

Its OK i know she gets tired . .

so,.. I went to my neighbor, they couldnt wake her either. so i just sat on the door step for, i guess 3 hours before she was able to wake up and let me in.

my life is Now NOT normal

for the past few months there's been an adult-my mom doesn't like-asking me and my teachers all sorts of questions, and my two moms stop talking as soon as i come into the room.

I must be in really BIG trouble so I try to be extra good.

I keep mom's secrets

Make it to the bus on time

do my school work and home work

am extra nice to my little sister

I don't know yet what id did wrong but it feels like it must be something really really bad.

my life is Still not normal

my dad and other-mom just told me that "A woman thats a judge helps adults make decisions that in the best interest of the child"

before I could ask "what does THAT mean?" they said that the judge decided i should live with them and not my mom.

then they tell me

I don't need to keep secrets,...

and I'll have a bed time,...

and I'll go to school everyday,...

and I don't have to take care of my mom,...

and that they will take care of me,...

and then I begin to cry,

uncontrollable sobbing and tears stream down my face

but I don't know why I'm crying but I just cant stop

Picasso

I sit in my room packed full of my stuff
my treasures
my memories
my words
my addictions
my desires
my unfinished
my books (owned and borrowed)
my very being

and I reflect on all the good I have done
and I regret all the bad I have done

I feel proud of my accomplishments
tactful agility of my words
confident in my thoughts,
I embrace my emotions
I rely on my perceptions

proud of my kids and their accomplishments

Tears of pure humbleness fill my eyes when they say, "I did not know what to do,....and I asked myself, what would You do"

After so many years of marriage, we are still symbiotic catalysts for each other,
Happy,
such a simple word, but so very real for us.

and with all that is good in my life,
there is this haunting
this, this,.. this, THING that taunts me
that stalks me
and I know I'm not the only one.

I and others are compelled to its control
Those not afflicted, think my actions are just on the other side of insanity.

If it does not get its required attentions, evil is unleashed in many many forms.

I have friends, that are mesmerizer by it, like a moth at night-to-a-light turned on inside a house, hitting up against a window again, and again, and again and again, trying desperately to get to the light, but just doesn't understand that they can't ever really get to it.

The light mocks their attempts to be satisfied, as does the THING.

It aggravates us.

This thing can be satisfied, as water prevents dehydration and death, but only if you drink every three days.

and on that third day without it we feel
anxious
tense
depressed
suicidal
selfish

selfish that is the greatest irony of this thing, it is most selfish,
it demands attention
it is never satisfied
it is never happy
it is always longing for more
it is cold and heartless


the musician knows it
the painter knows it
the sculptor has his own version
and the writer knows it

the insidious thing, to the outsider is nothing it is blank, null, void, meaningless

and that is an even greater irony than its selfishness, what appears to be nothing is actually to the select few, a taunting insanity can never fully be satisfied, once filled it magically becomes empty again and needs to be filled once more.

this

THING

is

a blank piece of paper,

an empty canvas,

a stone not yet brought to life,

and as soon as life is breathed into it, there is another

blank piece of paper,

empty canvas or

stone , calling, taunting demanding to be brought to life

and once it has life there is another

poem to write

painting to paint

sculpture to break free from the rocks.

p.s.

I call this Picasso, because at the Picasso Exhibit there was one of his paintings;

it was of a room full of color and paintings and curtains, and just off center of the room

on an easel

was a blank canvas

calling

haunting

demanding to be filled

center of the world

Oblivious.

The person not holding me

keeps me in the dark

I seeing no light, although I still see waves of energy, while waiting to come to life.

my need to be touched and held and looked at, 

all ignored

I am the center of the world for moments, sometimes hours, and then darkness.

the person NOT holding me is engrossed in other things

in conversation with other people

in telling jokes

in listening

I plea for attention, hoping for a touch, a look, to be held, 

but like one stranded on a desert island seeing a plane that does not see him

I am ignored

feeling abandoned

feeling alone.

I hear the person laughing, and touching others with me so close, I am not even though of..

so I scream as loud as I can 

NOTICE ME

TOUCH ME

FEEL ME

but the screams are ignored, 

I the center of the world must wait

wait in the dark

wait for a wave of energy that will bring me out of the darkness again

energy that will make me feel the touch, make me feel important.

I have one trick, that always works, that special call I can do

the call that tells him, he is in love

the sound that makes him stop what he is doing.

the sound that makes him hold me

makes me again the center of the universe

and here it comes that special ring-tone, that can break through the noise of the loudest bar

and soon he is touching me

caressing me 

massaging me

and I shine for him

remind him how important I am, 

as he reads my face he know what he must do, 

plz on ur way hm, get hotdogs, chips, soda and B hm Soooon kids are goin %-)

the breakup

Our journey started at the bottom of the desert mountain in the fall.

life giving rains watered the slopes we tread,

easy at first, then steep and steeper still

a loose rock here and there,

a rattlesnake across our path,

caused us to go on paths not marked

and my first taste of the agave.

we were on the move up, so no time to relish in the agave's beauty,

we continued to the unknown

then a landslide, we barely made it alive

we looked down and saw only rubble, where our journey started.

in the winter we were close to the top, basking in the warm winter days, holding each other close on the almost freezing desert nights.

times were hard during that dry spell, but we survived together.

we survived till the next rain.

the rain caused the agave to grow, and I uncontrolled drank deep and often.
it was not till my near death on a freezing night, that your loving words came through and touched my soul again.

when spring came we had been at the top for a while,

comfortable, settled,

it was just you and me again,

predictable

empty words

routine

stifled

suffocating

in a rut so deep we feared the next rain would drown us,

so we headed down,

steep at first, then it smoothed out

and we found ourselves on a gentle slope in the middle of a field of flowers,

beauty,

gentle smell of mesquite,

the desert alive, and with it us

and I saw the agave but left it alone.

when summer came, we were more than half way down

thirsty for life,

looking for relief from the sun

the life that was once flowers and struggles to overcome together

was is now a brown dusty hell

burning our hearts

burning our souls

a burning so strong that

we see no beauty

we see no life

we see no us

death, if we stay

so you with your mesquite go left

and I follow the agave and go right.

thanks roscoe

sitting silent easy

inter-action hard.

loneliness in a group,..

that is me

you reach out in your way, but I not knowing what to say,

say nothing.

so I, distant, awkward, inept

feeling alone

don't reach out to your extended hand.

but I come back

again and again and again

learning

slowly learning

how to say hi

I awkward know not what to do

i am different

i run away to my shell, to deep inside my mind, at the slightest discomfort

loneliness is safe

loneliness is me

loneliness in a room full of people

that want to know me,

seem to accept me,

talk to me

extend their hand to me

extend their hearts to me

acknowledge me

support me

and help me

and I the great outsider keep my barriers up,

but I come back

again and again and again

learning

slowly learning

how to share parts of me.

you applaud in honesty

you applaud encouragement

you value me enough to know my name

when I fell you were there to pick me up

I am different and you are OK with my difference

and I come back

again and again and again.

learning,

growing

truly grateful for

talking to me

applauding me in honesty and encouragement

knowing my name

extending your arm in friend ship

and sharing your heart

step forward

one step forward is huge

The pre-toddler works out for months before he or she takes their first step

laying on their stomach arching their back like their flying

bouncing while holding your hands,

holding on to furniture to just stand there

it takes work and dedication and time.

one step forward is huge

for an adult it means that the three things that knocked you down are neutralized

and after getting through the shit you took another step

so you really took four steps to get to one step forward.

it takes work and dedication and time.

I see that the lost one takes a step forward

a small step but a forward step,

outsiders see chaos and misdirection

but when asked the lost one says

"but I think, I took a step forward"

Others will say:

but what if it doesnt work

but what if this

and what if that

the lost one feels confused, diswayed

but using me to hold his ground he says

"I took a step forward"

"a small step but a forward step "

Others say

there are needs you are not taking care of

I need you to do this

you need to to that

and the lost one stumbles a bit

feeling insecure and unsure

then I tell the lost one that

"I took a step forward"

"a small step, but a step forward"

"and I KNOW what my next step will be"

The lost one leaning against me tells the needy others

"I know you need, but I took a step forward

"a small step, but a step forward"

"and I think I know what my next step should be"

The others say

don't forget what you used to say

don't forget our need

don't forget about this

don't forget about that

and the lost one feels overwhelmed and broken.,,,,

and I tell the lost one that I have not yet been able to take my second step YET,

but i know it is the right step, and i am close to being able to take it.

and the lost one resists the needy,

and in doing so resists the forced mediocrity of following the others

and he says proudly with chest out and head held high

"I took a step forward"

"a small step but a forward step "

"and it was ME that took that step"

"and I KNOW what my next step will be"

6:30pm

I sitting in a room full of hard core spiritualists

you know

contact people from the other side

Near death experiences

seances

tea leafs

crystal balls

tarot cards

oui ja boards

I ended up here because I thought a woman that I thought was pretty asked me what time is it.

small talk pursued

and smiles

and her curling her hair with her finger

and her touching my arm when she laughed

and trading phone numbers

the first date was at my favorite restaurant

the date ended with chivalry and chastity

and a promise for another date

next Saturday she said

I said yes.

next day I shot her a text

suggested a movie or a play

she responded back "I'll pick the place"

just be at my apartment at 6:30pm

during the week I tried to get her to tell me what she had planned

and her reply was always the same

"you will enjoy yourself" be at my apartment at 6:30pm

I tried the ploy of "what should I wear?" formal, casual, BBQ?

she said anything comfortable

"you will enjoy yourself" be at my apartment at 6:30pm

so Saturday night finally gets here

I as instructed am ringing her door bell at 6:30pm

she invites me into her apartment

Only a few small lights are on

there are a few candles lit here and there

mellow music was playing

There was wine breathing in two glasses

and a fragrant incense burning

she is looking very beautiful in the romantic light of a flickering candle as we sip wine and eat some cheese and crackers she had set out before my arrival.

then a knock at the door, she says "come in" and a herd of people come rolling in through the door, loud chatter,

"ohhhh hi"

"so your her new man"

"your apartment looks great, I love the painting technique on the walls"

and so i find myself in a room full of people that want to talk to the dead.

I don't dis-believe, but I don't really want to spend my Saturday night with these people.

I was looking for relationship, camaraderie, life partner, love.

My mind was racing on how to get out of this, I did like the woman, so I wanted to see if we had something, so I did not want to be leave now and ruin my chances.

my thoughts were broken by someone asking me to ask the OuiJa board something.

I think to myself, this is so not me, and what a waste of time.

but after much thought and some push back from the group I came on the question:

"what should I do with my life?"

and in the background was some freak humming

and tea leaves being read

and the woman that I thought was beautiful was in this trance like state with her hand on the Planchette

I reluctantly do the same as do two others

then some says "the question has been asked, oh spirits in this room please guide this lost soul"

The planchette starts to move around randomly then stops on a letter, then randomly moves and stops on another letter, a fifth person is watching and recording the letters as it stops.

I am expecting some mumbo jumble of letters, that I am then to make into words, but I pay no attention to the letters i just am along for the ride waiting for this horrible night to be over.

Then the planchette moves off the board, and the person that started this spoke and said "wheh that was good, I really felt a strong spirit" and looks up to the fifth person and asks him to hand to me my answer.

I look at the piece of paper and saw what look like a jumble of letters, but then it became very clear to me the message.

the message was" Go find someone who likes what you like"

and with that I left her apartment

no "s"

Our time together long, began at 18 and endured through graduating college and beyond.

mom and dad thought marriage

we did not need any paper to proclaim our undying affection and love.

from dorm to apartment,.. to our very own home, we knew we were made for each other.

change, confrontation, and turmoil, all handled like mom and dad - together.

I,.. confident in our love,

and with my faith well-founded in you

you told me to invite him to that one party,

you told me you liked him

you thought he could become the loving brother I never had.

I allowed him in,

I welcomed him,

I did need him,

another man to talk with

a friend to go to the bar with

he became my confidant,

and, ... he did,... become the loving brother I never had,....

N O W,...

melancholy full

feeling down,

like a bolder falling from a cliff creating an avalanche of pain

on the journey to the bottom.

my woe exhaled in every breath

I,... now alone in the middle of nowhere,... on a night with no moon, with only a fire to talk to.

the agony burned into me like the knife I pull from the blazing fire

and touch it to my tattooed arm where your name reminded me ,..of my love for you.

the charring will deform, and defile. but will be nothing compared to the torture you have inflicted upon my heart,

the growing boil upon my arm will be beautiful compared to the thought of you with him.

and the man that I loved like a brother, ....the man that took you away from our home,......

he became the knife that burned me.

private and public me

And why do I even bother,

damaged and beyond repair,

I had my chance but had the wrong people.

why do damaged people seek damaged people?

I have no focus

no desire

no reason to wake up

so I wander through the days doing what I am told is most urgent

no plan

no mission

no goals

just doing

outsiders think I get a lot done

think I lead my life

think i achieved my goals

think sometimes that i am wonderful

think i am a good man.

but my private self thinks the opposite

thinks I am lazy

thinks i am selfish

thinks I am uncaring

thinks I wander through life, certainly no lead it.

I waste so much time doing nothing there are no words or pictures to describe it.

My private self doesn't think I'm a sociopath

I care a little bit,

I don't set out to use people

but sometimes I do use people,

so maybe I am a sociopath

and then someone tells me,

"thanks for talking with me yesterday, I really needed that"

and another person said

"I took your advice, and I feel better than I have in years"

and another person said

"God has given you a gift, thank you for being part of my life"

so Maybe i am not a sociopath,

maybe I am just confused and lost,

and then I met a man that said

"we are not as bad as our private self, nor are we as good as our public self"

the private me sees a lazy looser

the public me portrays a confident helping soul

I wonder what the truth really is?

I feel nothing

I Feel nothing.

the hard normally uncomfortable chairs that makes my back and ass hurt with equal intensity, created to look inviting, inviting enough to have a coffee and look out over the book store, but designed to be just comfortable for 5 minutes after which you feet fall asleep.

But tonight, I feel none of that.

I feel nothing.

The young beautiful people with there perfectly smooth skin and beautiful teeth just inside those desirable lips, and wonderfully rounded body parts, sometimes they show just enough of their firm flat stomachs by taking a long stretch while arching their back, reaching their arms high in the sky which leads to fantasies of the unmentionable pleasure felt when there is skin on skin.

but tonight, no one evokes such feelings.

I feel nothing.

Reading about and seeing pictures of exotic cars and the frustration of the present with the overwhelming regret of past choices that force me into fantasy for escape (like winning the lottery) and the sorrow so overwhelming that I would normally take a big swig of the too hot, too bitter coffee just to focus on the physical pain instead of the mental anguish of the present, so I can forget just for a moment how life really sucks.

but tonight, I feel none of that.

I feel nothing.

flipping through the art magazines, seeing in incredible creativity, and sometimes the anger, and fear, and lust, but more times than not feeling confused, and a longing for talent, and a regret that is a hole in my core, for not having talent like that.

but tonight, I feel no envy.

I feel nothing.

A group of teenagers harass me as I go to my car, one boy steals another boys hat and offers it to me, another stands in front of me and put is on my head, and asks for 20 bucks. The disgust mix with fear and frustration, usually caused intelligible words to come out, it doesn't matter the kids call me names and give me a little shove, then take the hat back, seems I got the worst of the deal,

but tonight there is no rush of adrenalin, no self talk of "I should have"

I feel nothing.

Phoebe and Jack

cant stop

gotta look

got to have...

I cant stop its driving me crazy

the beauty

the perfection

the mystery

I need to be near

its driving me crazy

every time he walks by I have to look,

and inhale deeply in futile hope, to feel his scent. To inhale his very essence.

he is cautious of me, because he thinks I will hurt him.

last time I got him, I did not hurt him, I just brought him close to me

so I can feel him,

smell him,

gently put my mouth on him

and yes I did lick him and slobber on him

but I didn't hurt him,

he says i would have if those people didn't stop me.

"stay away"

"leave him alone"

"just don't worry yourself about him"

that's what the people say.

but he is so,

so,

so in-describable,

when I look at him my soul stirs in a way that words can't describe

he is so much of everything I like,

I've got to have him.

He has to like me,

if I can just get him alone again I can tell him

and if he won't listen

at least I'll be close.

and if he won't listen

I will pin him down and inhale his beauty

and if he won't listen still

I will be the last thing he sees while i crush the life out of him

slowly,

lovingly,

feeling like I have never felt before.

cut the crust off please

little miss white bread

with her turkey and tasteless white-cheese on white bread

pouts to the man across the table

"the crust is too hard" she whines "please cut it for me"

he comes to the rescue with knife and slices

slices off the crust

slowly precisely as if he has planned this moment,

fantasized about slowly with surgical precision

cut,

cut

cutting

first one side

then the other

then flip her over

and cut more

and finally cut the last time.

and the woman asks "whats the matter, you look so sad all of a sudden"

he replies "sad, no, just deep in thought,.. dear"

and as she begins to eat her now crust-less sandwich he savors the crust

the part of the sandwich that she will never know about and with it his fantasy continues.

addiction

the image is burned into my very core,

every where I look I see it

when people talk I think of it

when I'm alone i long for it,

I play with fantasy of it during the day

intelligence is no match for the emotion

the computer screen shows it to me,

and blurs the spreadsheet that I am working on.

then for a moment, brief though it is, I get relief

I can think again, I can see the bright blue skies

I feel the loving hug from my family

and I feel regret and guilt

and it starts to come into view,

I try not to look at it

and I feel frustration and fear

and waves of hopelessness pound me

and it starts to call my name

and I try not to hear it

and I try to remember the love of my family

and I try to remember the happy times without it

but again everywhere I look I see it

there are no words to explain it

its image is burned into my core.

I need to do this lady

"I am getting to drunk to drive home, can you help?" says the lady sitting next to me at the bar.
A slightly classy joint, where they have replaced live musicians with a mellow sound system that has a great mix of mellow jazz, Frank Sinatra, Stevie Wonder, and Tony Bennett.

Looking for small talk, she sees on the TV above the bar, a show about golf lessons and asks me "What are they doing?" as she scoots a little closer to me.

I reply "it is a golf lesson, and yes he is really hitting the ball, but it goes into a net, and a giant projection screen makes it look like he is on an actual golf course"

She makes a joke that is funny only to her, and gently touches my leg.

We make small talk, and she is looking at me intently, and twirling her hair with her fingers. She rocks and laughs and touches me again, and again, and again.

In conversation I can see that she is truly one of those stupid, inexperienced people that has used her firm smooth body, cleavage, and perfect lips to get what she needs in life.

Some more TV watching, comments on music, and small-talk about movies. Some time passes and she makes the statement again "I am getting to drunk to drive myself home"

I look and see no evidence of a wedding ring, even when you take one off there is a tell-tale indentation or a subconscious touching of what is no longer there.

During the minutes that pass I see she is not drinking that much, well not drinking as much as a person "to drunk to drive" would drink. The conversation goes to the deal she got two meals for the price of one, and tells me she is between jobs.

Seems to me asking a stranger to drive you home is an invite to have one night of shallow intimacy.

So wanting to keep conversation going I ask her "What brings you to this restaurant's bar in this part of the city tonight?"

She said "She had dropped her son off at the gym around the corner, and while he is working out she decided to come here." Which totally contradicted all of the signals I had been reading. One night stands and children don't go together.

I feigning interest asked "Oh and how old is he?"

She answered "He just turned 18 yesterday, yeah he is not my little boy any more."

With that she ordered another glass of white house wine, and while sipping looked straight ahead at the meaninglessness of all the alcohol bottles lined up so perfectly in front of the huge mirror.

As I looked at her beauty, my eyes gravitated toward her face as she sipped her wine, and saw her as her, not as one night of meaningless intimacy.

She is lonely, and so desperately wants someone in her life.

Her little boy is turning into an independent man, and will be leaving her soon. She has nothing left in her life, no career to push out the lonely feelings, no person to come home to, no one to be home for.

She feels a loneliness so deep, so debilitating.

Not knowing which way to turn, she tries what worked almost 19 years ago.

Silence

he always wanted more out of life than his parents could offer him.

so as a teen he stayed in shape strong, flexible, no extra fat

he needed to be prepared for his future

although he did not know what that would be.

high school years were normal, well normal for high school

experimenting with different people

looking for different highs

trying to avoid his parents

he really liked movies and saw where money could fall from the sky

he was a mediocre actor

but took drama all years of high school

and was even in a few plays

once he had the lead role,

he liked the attention that gave him,

he liked pretending to be something he knew inside he was not.

he acted the leading man

strong

secure

a person that liked, loved and respected himself.

but he was none of those things

he was young and strong and fit

a beauty, handsome

anyone seeing him would think so,

a swimmers physique, is how one described him, although he did not go into sports.

lost at 18

high school over

parents divorced

no money

no prospects

he thought about how to get out of the place he was in

bouncing from parent to parent as they tired of his moods

he really liked acting, but the one thing his parents Could agree upon, was that he could never make it into the movies. He would scream back how wrong they were, that he would make it big and they would be sorry for trying to crush his future.

he stopped talking to both of them and moved out of their little town to find success

he tried,

auditioned

pleaded

practiced

and found nothing,

and then one night while he was trolling the internet for escape

he realized exactly what he should do

he saw a small movie company in his area and he applied,

his good looks and youth were all they needed.

for very little they paid him a lot

so he went back

they asked him for more and he gave it uneasily but they paid him very well

so he went back

having pushed him this far they pushed him the rest of the way too his future

a future of acting

a future of lots of money

and it was his dad that stumbled on to one of his movies,

who then told his ex-wife his acting was not all that good, not bad, but not great

but he was very beautiful on the screen

and she said well did you bring the movie with you, I only get an occasional "I'm alive mom" he didn't tell me he was in a movie.

and the father said, " I don't think you will want to see this one, I know I did not"

and she said "well no matter how bad it is, its still our son, we should be proud"

and the father sat there looking at his ex-wife thinking of their little boy, and the childhood, the messy divorce, the infidelity,

and after a long silence the man had the look of extreme sorry, and shame

and inhaled deeply

and exhaled long and slow

and the father said "our son is the star of a gay porno..."

Write

and here to be with himself the lost one stays distant

not present

dissociated

displaced

distant from the beauty so close and all around.

the happy energy

the beautiful skies

the kids playing

the grass, still green.

the leaves of bright crimson and reds and yellows

hiding from the pain of loss.

Oblivious to the humor of a woman in incredibly high heals trying to walk down a very steep hill while trying to control a baby stroller.

He stays inside his cell phone

texting

sending pictures and movies of only scenery, with no one in frame, no candid shots.

the good is since he is alone, he doesn't have to ask a stranger "can you please take a picture of US in front of this railing?"

with no one else to text, the flat lifeless boring pictures, he slowly becomes aware.

aware of the beauty

aware of the humans taking a moment to enjoy life.

aware of his own pain

he seeks escape, but there is none.

so he must face himself and write.

One of the Regulars

At the main yuppie shopping drag sits me, one of the regular observers to the hustle and window shopping, searching for my next reality.

I sit outside by the, little, local coffee shop, they have several blends that are very good. With all them damn Starbucks around, all the really good coffee shops are disappearing.

I'll tell you and everyone that asks "THIS is the BEST STREET, I LOVE it here, you will NEVER find me at a Starbucks, I'd rather be dead with a splitting headache than even sit outside a Starbucks. Starbucks is SHIT.

The people on the street shopping, make the street a community of safety. Old houses turned into quaint little shops and restaurants. People walking, saying hi, dogs on leashes, kids being kids. There is no other word, other than "community" to describe the feeling. Those big shopping centers where all stores are massive cross-country exactness - each one is the same, people crammed together inside, no one smiling.

I'll tell you and everyone that asks "this street is COMMUNITY, DOGS, KIDS and SHOPPERS, you will NEVER find me INSIDE one of those huge shopping centers, where SORRY losers shop"

On the street you have other regulars like,

The kids that bang on overturned plastic tubs to make some cash for their mom,

Over there is the flute player, with his hat turned upward on the side walk with hopes he will play in a concert hall one day.
The "rasta man" is set up with his trinkets for sale and peace and love all around.

And next to me, ever wareful of the local police, the lady with no legs selling her roses for $5 each.

"Not a bad markup" I say to her.

She just grunts back looking up and down the street, calculating the best place to be, yet a place to push her electric buttons to get her out of sight of the local cops.

"so do you live in the neighborhood, or do you need to travel far?" I continue with the one sided conversation.

She says nothing.

"listen girly, just because you aint got no legs aint no reason to be high-hattin me" I said to her.

With that comment the Rasta-Man comes over and spouts out his "hey man there is too much negative energy, that is your fellow human, can't you find any love in your heart for her?"

I yell "this street is for all,... NEVER get INSIDE my space man, you Rasta-man freak", then I look to the girl and yell at her "hey girly, do you care that I call you girly"

Then I grunt at her.

She still sits there and says nothing,

but the Rasta-man can't leave well enough alone and eggs me on.

So I yell "Rasta why don't you go to Starbucks and drink their SHIT"

I take a deep inhale

Spit on the ground

and continue yelling "this is the BEST STREET just and leave us"

Then I whisper "hey girly, sorry, sorry." The no response forces me to yell, "SORRY, girly I said SORRY"

Then the Flute player hearing me apologize to the wheel chair lady, comes over to see if I wanted to hear any song I say "THANKS man, this is the bests street.

Community that what it is, there aint NEVER a better place than THIS STREET. Them Stupid malls and the SHIT Starbucks got nothing on THIS STREET right here. Where people care and it is a COMMUNITY!"

Then the boys come on over to keep the beat for the flute player, I say "you are just KIDS,... little. I am SORRY, SORRY I said SHIT and all that crap, but sometimes the others gets INSIDE me and I just gotta Yell. I LOVE this STREET so much.

Then all of a sudden that no legged freak disappears, as does all the other peddlers, and I look up and see a young man walking over to me, SHIT, I think to myself cops,.. I LOVE this STREET and don't want to be locked up INSIDE some hole, but he is not wearing a real cop uniform.

he asked me "hey old man, where are we?"

I respond "We are here you punk KID, on this STREET with the row of stores, most of which I remember when I was a kid, they were houses. Now they all gone,.. and just people and stores and concrete."

"Do you know who am I?" the stranger said.

I replied "you don't look familiar, you the grandson of one of my dead friends or something?"

"no sir, i don't believe my granddad knew you" the stranger said and continued

Then I looked real hard to see if I could recognize him from somehwere and then I said "It looks like you are wearing one of those uniforms you get at the halloween shop, its not Halloween, what the hell you wearing that for?"

The stranger said "It is a real uniform, sir, I am part of the mall security and the manager of the Starbucks called us, with a complaint that you were yelling and talking to yourself and it is scaring the shoppers"

Saturday night

Satuday night

at the end of my day with tea and toast

thinking of the horrors I chose Not to do today.

I sip slowly sipping, thinking of the so many times today I did the right thing, the expected thing.

At work I was cordial and helpful, energetic and happy

- and wondered if a co-worker's incessant chatter would stop if I threw a computer monitor at him.




I held the door for the old lady and her grandson,

- and wondered what she would do if I knocked the kid on his ass

I waved on the idiot that doesn't know the rules of a 4-way stop

- and wondered what he would do if I T-boned his car.

I went shopping at the orange-box hardware store,

- and wondered what they would do If I walked right past the cashiers and went out the door with my partially fill shopping cart.

I bought a box of girl scout cookies,
- and I wondered what her self-esteem would do if I told her that her girl scout vest looks stupid.

I got into my car,

- and wondered what the person next to me would do if I slammed my door into his car.

I saw a really beautiful person,

-and wondered if they'd enjoy me grabbing their ass as much as I would.

I let the cat out,

-and I wondered if it would be eaten by something tonight.

as I get into my jammies,

- and I wonder how many adults call them jammies

so on this saturday night I sit thinking of the horrors I did Not unleash upon society,

-and i wonder why didn't I....?

thanks nick

tormented by myself there is no escape.

rage so strong
hurt so deep

and I die a little more every day I think of you,

and,...

I think of you Every day,

you haunt my dreams

you monopolize my thoughts

triggers of rage and disgust and regret and hurt at even the slightest scent reminiscent of you.

and my life is torment with no escape.

if only

if only

if only i could torture you the way the thought of you,

is,

to me,

pure anguish.

but I must live with the fact that there is no death slow enough that would fill the abyss you left inside me.

spencer

he is gone
some heart ache now, protects from heartache in the future

its for the best
we lie to ourselves,
he did not suffer

the mind protects itself from the horror
that is what we say when we see a smaller animal being ripped to shreds by a larger predator.

but we don't know,
so our mind protects itself from the horror

the thought that the smaller animal felt every bite,
felt the crushing power of jaws around its little body

"its for the best,"
"its life"
"he really didn't suffer"
it must have been quick

took only but 60 seconds,

and we forget that time slows down when we are in full adrenalin crisis.
as it must be for the small animal being killed by the larger one.

60 seconds must be an eternity to the one dying, fighting, ... for its life.

and so "its for the best, "
"he was the weakest one"
"its nature's way"
the dog did not mean to kill my cat
it was an accident

it must have been quick, I was gone for a short few minutes

and my mind feels the heartache of loss and protects itself from the horror of death to a pet so well loved, killed by another pet so well loved.

Hope?

and the shadow of a man stands
he stand alone

stuck in his his own mind all he sees is horror, sin, guilt, despair

gray skies convince him of his
uselessness
pointless-ness
this miserable moment in time called life, he calls it existance

barely hanging on, he looks forward only to the sin

such a strong word 'sin'

a word that can't truly exists,
.... unless,
unless, ..
he truly believes in a God.


a God that created good,


a God that created life,


a God that created Sin
and with it created,...
guilt
obsession
betrayal
hatred
the irrational people
the narrow minded
the judgmental

Internal confusion for the man that stands alone.

his friend say "trust in the Lord",
but he knows all too well that if he confessed his sin's these same friends would
shun him
exile him
judge him
gossip about
fake smiles, while vomiting inside, when they next they see each other.

no help for the man that stands alone.

"you'll feel better if you talk about it" says his other friends

There is truth in that, but the consequences of betrayal too great, he says nothing.

and the shouldn't have's and the should have's bombard his soul;
"I should not have ever started", "I should have stopped" are the things he says to himself over and over and over. useless thoughts that will not help him with the sin in his life.

"sin" such a strong word and backed by an all powerful God,

There is no hope for the man who stands alone that has his heart scared by sin.