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.