Who do you think I am anyway...

The catalyst of confusion
started a fire
while shopping for
a soul on a high wire.

Until now I was unaware that the remuneration for impropriety exceeded that set for dignity. How much did you get for yours? As for my dignity…I will hold onto it, thank you. I would rather starve than feed my soul from a base wage.

With my voice in repose, I hid behind my own forbearing shadow, and allowed silence to foster absolution. Silence failed, and I have become intolerant of flippant commentary.

I am not so completely unaware. Because I am certain that is common knowledge, your recent presentment was, quite frankly, out of line. Your bravado flames me.

As it happened, I had simply misplaced the why, where, and how. I can identify the sickness in that statement, and I concede fault in my volition. I understand that I can be fucking difficult. My own scathing behavior must remain in constant check.

I am not able to take back that fleeting moment or the injustice it served you. I have arrived at the place from where I must move on. I wish you the same in your departure.






p.s. a fucking doormat.

The smoking gun.

Reflection.

I battle with my image. It is difficult to see myself in the context of life. To see myself as others do, with a watchful eye. I am often too busy living to be constantly aware...aware of my actions and my thoughts as they occur, to be always on. That is a poor excuse, and so I will continue learning.

There amongst the rubble, the rubbish, the reality, and the reverie…is a life lived. I have opened it up for my inspection, my dissection. My life spilled open before me, I am able to pick it apart. What is worth keeping and what shall be cast aside? Some of it will be misplaced or forgotten without intent. Some will be thrown full force out the fucking window.

The entirety of it, my life, has been examined, admired, and accepted as a lesson in time…without regret. But still I ask myself, how can I be a better person?



Considering the past, I must live forward.



I will continue to challenge myself to sustain thoughtfulness. I will attempt to close each day with a question…was I good?

I will allow the answer to that question to lead me forward. Daily, I will take the hand of my mistakes and my misgivings and allow them to guide me to craft a life. My triumphs and successes enhanced by greater insight. I do not want to come to the close of another year bombarded with resolution.

I will also try to keep fear at bay. I will pause, even if it is just for a moment, to reflect. I intend to live, and live well. Each day I will do my best to be good.

My lovelies, I wish each of you the best of life in the new year. I hope that you are all happy and healthy, and that you find joy in each day. I hope you live, and live well.



Apparition?...please.








p.s. my clichéd resolve will be found in the calm exhale of purity.

I am reluctant to begin.

The necessary words seem to escape me when I need them most.

As I sit here in this quiet place, I find it difficult to express the entirety of my emotions. I fear that no matter what I write, you will not fully comprehend the impact your thoughtfulness has had on my heart. Could it be that the words escape me? Or is it that the act itself is indescribable? Nevertheless, please accept my humble attempt at expressing gratitude.

You overwhelm me, yet again. Your generosity has renewed my spirit. A gift I will treasure indefinitely.

A kind gesture made its way to my heart. A collection of thoughts, images, photographs, sculptures, paintings, drawings, stories, dirty stories, videos, memories, inspirations, songs, dances, a trip around the world, a mansion, a hand, recipes, poems, puzzles, riddles, and rhymes...they are all amazing. I will spend time admiring each gift, removing them from their boxes, and finding just the right place to keep them.

Soon my gratitude will transcend the buzz, and eventually, I believe you will each hear me. You always do.

Thank you. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

p.s. are we in Texas, again?

It mattered most when I least expected it...

I heard you whisper last week
your lips were pressed against my ear.
And even though the words have passed
the message is still clear.

It really meant something.
The calm one, the one with the reason…his tongue is raw with truth, and my ears bleed faith. My deft eyes claim certainty. It was well hidden between the curtain and the guillotine.

My devoted hands work tirelessly to articulate a minstrel's vow. The commission of such an act gives me a unique sense of purpose, and helps stave off the return of my old internal debate.

I am afraid to stop, my mind fraught with hindsight. Unsure if it will hold, I test the bindings.

Secure.



p.s. some speak in tides, others ride the waves in silence.

From the corner.

Always, they gather around the table.
Their hands clasp coffee cups
of different colors, shapes, and sizes.
Scattered before them plates hold sweets.
They arrive, each with beautiful minds
bounding exuberance, and cautious measure.
Another day and the scene may be festive,
music, cocktails, streamers, and balloons.
And another, somber
with their wondrous hearts saving the day.

Always, they are lovely to behold
and they graciously offer
the culmination of extraordinary lives.
They saunter in and take their usual place,
then spirit out again to live, work, love, and play.
Always offering their host a taste
of what that experience could be.
I walk among them undisturbed,
sharing the endeavor
with their glorious insight discerning the way.



Please keep that in mind for the times I when say I have heard enough and please carry on regardless of my shitty ass bad timing.



I am all but present and accounted for, and simply enraptured with the season…I am fucking giddy with this shit.


p.s. “tally-ho!”

Bury the hatchet.

I am fueled by provocation, currently deliberating my constitution.

The witness having brought to light new evidence, the accused pleads guilty on all charges pending. The defendant has been bound over for sentencing.

p.s. judge and jury, impartial. injunction exempt.

Ghost-imposed gag order.

You want this straight?

Then you have to be willing to hear me out, and that means all of it. You can not pick and choose the verse; the ugly shit has got to ring in your head too. The things that I say that cling to your clothes like mildew, the stench entrenched, leaving you filthy.

What is the matter? You can’t wash it off? Well, neither can I.

I repeat myself so much these days that the truth is often lost in the mix. Say it, say it again, and again. You try it and see how well rehearsed you can be. Sometimes I change my mind, and you use it against me. You will tuck it away, and bring it out for a later date, only to make me eat shit and lie.

And you will use it against me.
Tuck it away for a later date,
only to make me eat shit...

Setting aside my own, to honor yours.

p.s. it can hit the fan tomorrow.

Space

Let me get the door for you.



p.s. my hand is there, reach for it.

A little rough around the edges…

I have not yet entered into a static free zone. Buzz, buzz, buzz…my head is ready to fucking split. I asked him if it still mattered at all.

I am waiting for his reply.

I have been half way around my brain with this shit, and it just keeps coming up the same. And I am repeating myself, here in the dark, not quite alone.

In time.

p.s. patience please, my lovelies...I am listening.

Caught a wave.

Fake away the day
and you fail miserably
who you wish to be


p.s. under the radar and all tangled in tales, love.

Off the grid.

I have come to terms with the fact that eventually I am going to have to mention it. Will it be with sweeping metaphors or outright denial? Perhaps no one will understand.

For now I am listening to the little voice, and reevaluating priorities.

My lovelies, you are free to assume whatever you choose, but I will not be ignoring you. The electricity just doesn't buzz the same and I can't always find the switch.

End of the year...this shit is always out of hand.

p.s. this is how I have always imagined it for someone else.

Turn the breadcrumbs into baked goods.

It is quiet, and the weight of my somber mood holds my thoughts in check. I have given thanks. I meant each and every word. But I can't escape the boundaries defined by custom.

And I am grateful for you. The remarkable way you hold your ground. When I turned to myself for answers, I found strength and pride. When I turned to you, I found wisdom and patience. I could use some of that now.

Balance.

I think I will sleep tonight. I will allow my dreams to lay and lie along with me.


p.s. grateful for you as well (and the diversion).

Independent Endeavor

This is overdue. Please forgive me as I have been preoccupied with family. I had meant to post this earlier, in time with all of your moments of introspection, during "this is me". I think it is in good timing, as it seems a distraction could be in order...



I am a contradiction.



I am a planner, I plan everything. But, I have also been known to make snap decisions.

I am an idealist.
I am a realist.

I research the hell out of everything, but I am always changing my mind.
I am a workaholic, but can very easily sleep in too late...I have insomnia so the appeal of my dreams can be somewhat overwhelming.

I am a good listener, but I tend to talk over people (I am really working on that one).
I fear rejection on every level, but I am always drawing attention to myself.
I fear failure, but I am not afraid to try new things, and this constant change in scenery allows me to masquerade achievement.

I think I am always right, but I acknowledge that I make mistakes.
I am very independent and a control freak…I like to do things my way, myself. Yet, I am high maintenance and a bit of a scatter brain…therefore I require someone to look after me.

I have diagnosed clinical depression, but I can be the life of the party.

I have outrageously high standards for myself, but I am generous in allowing others to fault.
I am very loyal, but I have been known to wander off towards a novel stimulus like a moth to a flame.

I am empathetic.
I am selfish.
I am stubborn.
I crave change.

I have enjoyed kissing both women and men, but prefer women.

I am shy.
I am eccentric.
I am erratic.

I work hard, and I am passionate. I love life, my friends, and my family. I am always expressing myself

...even in silence.

Best Friend

The brick and mortar embellishment
conceals despair.
I buried it in the backyard,
along with that old rag of a dog,
that I loved and held to my heart.
Passed on and by too fast for
my eyes and hands to grab tight.
And I wonder now, if I had held
just a bit tighter, would I have
a handful of fur rather than dirt
and hurt?






p.s. been body snatching...Mayo is Keyser Söze.

Final, but not departing words...

I understand your need for answers, information, and reassurance.

I have been asked to offer a tailored invitation to each of you. I cannot in good conscience fulfill your request, not now. With the current climate here, I am afraid this would only escalate hurt feelings and finger pointing. What if I get it wrong?

Some of you are more open and I may know more about you, others are more reluctant to reveal themselves, or are perhaps new…how do I deal with this? I know your names, and yes, I can speak to most of your personalities, but not all...so you can see where that may lead. You have all come here with your individual voices, with your own intent, wanting to be heard, wanting to listen. All valid, yet you do not require my validation to set your sails.

"Mayonaise" is an important place for me. Although I make every attempt, I am unable to read all the heartfelt comments that you leave. I spend time with you after I post, and then I return when I am able to give you my full attention. You would be amazed at how skilled I have become at finding that time...somewhat of an artful dodger. If it ever appears that I have missed something, I apologize.

Please understand I am not evading, I am not ditching your request. I only fear that any misinterpretations at this time could be disastrous to whatever chance you have of restoring friendships. This is no longer about me. Stay here for each other. I will continue to post on “Mayonaise”. You may listen if you choose. Or you can ignore me, and continue to use this space to gather. Or you may choose to disappear.

I cannot take you for granted.
I am accountable for my actions.
I need you.

I have been asked to reveal myself to you. You all know me. I am whoever you want me to be, I am an artist, a poet, a singer, a motherfucker, and a contradiction, a mouthpiece, a friend, and an enemy, a brother, an informant, a whipping boy, a basket case, a queen, and a criminal...(credit to John Hughes.)


p.s. my fear, again...and I am hungry, but often I forget to eat.




"You have the exclusive right to be an exclusive asshole. But I don't have to like it."

Duplicitous I am not, a three dollar whore…well, maybe.

I am sad, no I am devastated.

Never once has this been about favoritism, cliques, or status. I just couldn’t fucking hear with all the noise and needed a little space.

I needed a place where it could be less abstract for me, and for you. I guess perhaps I am a cheap, greedy man.

I can’t stress enough the fact that it was your intense camaraderie that led me to believe that you all had some sort of life line with each other. You finish each others sentences like an old married couple, it's beautiful to see.

I made a mistake by asking one of you to deliver my message, and I am sorry.

In defense of the visitors, they only did as I requested, by keeping the space until I needed it.

I was not attempting to conceal anything. Mayonaise is for you to share, for everyone. It became more your home than mine, and that is amazing.

Kapunua, I would like to speak directly to your recent post, and in doing so speak to everyone. First, thank you. My gratitude may be expected but it carries an enourmous amount of worth. Second, I know that you are not naïve. For you to consider that I would exclude you, or anyone else is to say that you never heard me. And I know that each of you hear me. You are all my insight and my mirror. It is you that I look toward to pass judgment on me, and you have. I have failed you.

I am sorry.

P.S. Please stay, all of you, stay…not for me, but for each other.

You can smell a rat a mile away?

I have never been careful…far too boring. Starting fires and playing with matches, perhaps. But I assure you, I will not burn down my own house. It is comfortable and my friends know where to find me.

I have opened up my rental on the other side of town...I may be there for a while. It is quiet, not that I mind a good party now and again.

It is a peaceful coalescence that I desire.

p.s. with all the finger pointing I can barely hear you anymore.

The ink hasn't even dried yet.

A hollowed out tree hides
a mystery in feathers.
The hoot-hoot sound
claims your ear.

You hear it and climb.
Pull out the twigs and
twine that connect it
to the vine.

The wise old bird
caught the worm,
that early riser
has lost a turn.

Get some fucking sleep already, you crazy mother fucker.

p.s. 1:16am: an answer, let's see...Divine Intervention. Adam can sing so lovely.

Roadside crosses are the result of unyielding left hand turns.

Most of it is gone now.
The rain having pelted the remains
the final time.
I passed by yesterday
and felt what could have been
your hand. The scream,
I won’t let go. Today
I stopped.
I buy gas and cheap
bags of pretzels, she wants candy.
I refuse,
and contemplate
what could have been
for you
in those last moments.
Did you let go
knowing?
Pump stopped.
Ten minutes I have stood,
you are here for eternity.
Always yielding, never turning.

A lucid transaction.

I am sitting at a table with friends, it is dark and loud. I am bored. I am absently searching for something affecting to distract me, when I spot myself sitting across the room. I am at a table with some friends…and I am staring right back at myself. I am unable to look away. The gaze between us has me transfixed. Then he, the other me, shuns me with a smirk and joins the conversation at his table. He is speaking, and his hands are gesturing along with his alluring tale. His friends are captivated by the unconstrained other me. I envy his ease. Now I am alone at my table and I am singing to the other me. My song is pleading for him to hear, to once again find me, but he does not. And just as I am about to stop singing, you grab my hand and pull me up from my chair, and I wake up.



p.s. it is because the light reflected from painted glass is ambiguous. mirror me in your words, and that is where I find clarity. as do you, in each others.

I will give you a hint...leech

If you consider my intention was to assemble you here, and then rip you apart, merely to revel in your dichotomy...well then, you have not heard me at all. I will not strike the match, but you hold the bucket. Is it full of water, or shit?

p.s. allow your wisdom, wit, worry, and wonder to punch, provoke, purchase, and profess.

For the protagonist and the cup of coffee we share...

A favorite...oh how I do love fire.

I Pity the Wind
Gerald Stern



I am taking off my glasses
so I can stare at the little candles
and the glass of water
in pure darkness.

I am letting a broom stand
for my speech on justice
and an old thin handkerchief
for the veil of melodrama I have worn for thirty years.

I am dragging in Euripides
for his strange prayer
and my own true Hosea
for his poem on love and loyalty.

After a minute I fall down dead
from too much thought
and turn to the freezing wall
for an hour of quiet sadness.

I start my practice later,
twenty minutes for breathing,
twenty minutes for song,
twenty minutes for liberation and ritual.

My poem is about the airshaft
and Zoroaster
and the soul caught in its last struggle
with the two-headed cow, father of everything.

My elation has something to do with light,
my misery with darkness,
my secrecy and fear and distance
with neither.

I end up with a pillow
and a painted floor, as I always do,
my head on the flowers, a little pocket for air,
my right arm drifting and dangling.

I end up just humming,
true to myself at last,
preparing myself for the bridge
and the hand that will lead me over, the hand I adore.

I pity this hero,
so in love with fire,
so warlike,
so bent on teaching.



p.s. I couldn't resist you and your agile fingers as they swept over my heart filling it with glory. To follow the mass, my own words prey.

It was the moment when he had the light that it worked.

So you let that go with little debate.
Perhaps it was inserted too late.
Could you please go back in time
just a minute and revisit the rhyme?


The store remains locked.
But the shelves are carefully stocked
with reasons there for all to see.
You are oh so very close to me.




p.s. trust that I try to reflect back to you what you have given to me.

Did you hear the one about the man who remained silent only to be heard?

The whispers are only for myself, and I repeat them often enough to know them all by heart. The truth, I held it under my tongue and prayed...all the while losing my hold on the meaning. Now my words are bent and broken from the release. Questionable promises have crumbled in my fist, and what remains is dry and falls through my fingers. It crashes to the ground in small piles, which I blend back into the earth with my shoe. I grab a handful and press it against my lips; it is rough against my cheek. And I am reminded of where it all began.

p.s. what has changed is mistaken for truth without question.

Mother Fucker that feels good.

It is down right impossible to kill the mood around here this fine evening. So, my intended post has been shelved for the time being. I am grateful for the distraction; my mood had drifted toward the foul. I am not my usual pretty princess self. You laugh...would you prefer The Queen? Quite honestly, I am like an unruly child.

Foolishly, I lost my temper. In an attempt to do far too many things at once, I allowed myself to snap under the pressure. The target of my destructive behavior, ever so graciously, allowed my rant without a challenge. And yes...as I know you will ask, I have apologized. I am truly sorry.

p.s. those dark moments back there cause me to pause and thank you.

I need to borrow this I don't have much time.

10:57pm








Tell me about a memorable dinner you have had? No...on second thought, I don't want to hear about the entire meal...just describe the appetizer. I will imagine the rest. It is more fun that way.


p.s. no insights today just retort a fucking headache and my only defense to make amends with future earnest offerings.

And what follows will undeniably be written sharply...in haste.

I love watching her delicate hands as they fumble to open my belt buckle. You can bet I never go without one when I am with her. During those few moments just before she opens my pants, I can hardly breathe. It is like that every time. She looks up towards me, her eyes are warm and giving. They tell me everything that I need to know. I feel love in her eyes. Yet, in this moment she seems so fragile, as if she needs my approval before she begins her rapture on me. It is that way this night, and each night I have the privilege of her attention.

p.s. conversation prompted the fire I'm out on a limb; x-rated in an alternate universe.

Not so far away so close exhausted.

Too many fresh graves, pushed up daisies, and tired beat up conversations. Distracted by the past? I thought you were beyond that…move on already. I appreciate that some of you are refraining from that condemning tone…I find your restraint to be revolutionary. Let’s attend to more important details...now, where am I again?

p.s. 1037 BC

Time has a funny way of punching in.

Do not be led astray...I am here, not there, not everywhere. Although the meaning may be hidden, my words are never buried. You always recognize my presence and hear my voice. It is a great compliment. I hear you as well, and continue to do so with an open mind. My lovelies, it has been far too long since I addressed you directly. Please don't be mad.

It was never my intent to stay, you have given me a path, and I will wander. Judgments aside for the moment, the most promising of you have made this a phenomenal place to find importance in reason; the process of it. Dare I say we complement one another?

p.s. some are not obligated to wear the wool and others do it for good measure.

Towel and Tribulations.

I spread out the cloth for the dishes to lay.
The chipped rims and faded patterns
of plates that held the sustenance
of our years, pulled from the hutch.
Once careful, I now slam them down hard.
And it feels good that way.
The sharp clink of ceramic
greater comfort than the quiet smooth edges.
I wrap the sharp and cold pieces for trash
swallowing more pride than food.

Eyes stitched shut for years without warning.

A faucet of truth springs forth where you least expect it. I have found the necessary tools to cease the flow…or perhaps, encourage the release. An abstract combination of malevolence and transgression has enabled the hand forward, the torque profitable. The leak expired. Please, allow my waves the privilege to crash upon your waders. I have dug in, rooted in the perversity, entrenched in the limitations, and bruised by the morality.

Truth be told, and if it were, doubt would still slither its' way into your supposition. Torch carrying is a responsibility undertaken with determination. The challenge is to remain steadfast and true. This is not always an achievable task. Perceptions often refute validation, but a ripened integrity allows balance. Disclosure is promising, beautiful; I will not take it back, and neither will you.

Allies and underlings, consider both hostages to mutual enforcement. The brigade advanced, and all fell in as agreed. Should I follow...or jump ship and purchase my validity with wadded up paper airplanes?

p.s. the ghost that floats by here now again find a way.

In the future where directions more difficult than it seemed.

This may be exactly what was planned. Perhaps this is not only an excuse for the outing, but also for the silence. Just so that you are aware…lately, I have had a little of both. The ceramic virgins for sale on every corner only served to remind me of lessons long forgotten. I am glad to have put those exhortations on a low shelf. I need them.

Now, as to the beginning…what remains has lapsed. It was paramount to have engaged the deafening torment and to have witnessed the others holding their ground. Abiding by the instruction of those memories, reverence is delivered upon me; a priceless gift. Creation marked by every tone; aspiration, resignation, legitimacy...it is all there.

Words, big and small, are never unimportant when they are gifts of thought and time.

p.s. sharp corners are the best place to post the desired effect.

Let's mothball this shit baby...with one hour to spare.

Is it true that we value in others what we want to see in ourselves, the missing piece...pieces, or peace? Who surrounds you? Why are they near? I hold dear to my heart those whose passion can find no limit, those with righteous hearts, and calloused fingers. Because I aspire to be more than I have brought to the table so far.

What is missing? I can not watch myself from a distance...it is far too painful. The awkwardness, the shuffle, gives rise to self doubt and sour bile. I rely on second hand tales and the perceptions of others to deliver me from evil. Introspection has never been my finest skill...so I challenge myself to look.

p.s. here we go, one last time...it's in the blood.

It is in the bend that we find the blight.

I have to hand it to you...I never thought you would distinguish bright lights from burning bridges. But, here we are...so settle in. I know that I have, and I am more than happy to help you find a comfortable chair.

Be aware, there may be a short wait for conveyance...but in time, that will all make sense. So as I said, I am glad that you have found your surroundings to be adequate. I am glad that everyone has arrived.

Sanctioned by the devout, divine, and deliberate. But for what...today, I have no fucking clue.

p.s. interruption...post and repost, nothing new to spew.

Chasing whales and long ago fairy tales. Just for fun.

Happen
stance,
second chance
walking along the road.

Life
stalls,
hope falls
and up the stairs I go.

Or perhaps down.

Head
spins,
who wins
when it's time to show?

Tick
tock,
stop clock
when it’s time you know.

Or perhaps don’t.

The right hand man thinks he has a plan.

And still you evade.

I beg and plead for restoration in the manner you consider worthy. Not on knees, but on my own two feet, head held high. I have attempted to qualify myself under your strict mandate, and I can see where I fell short. You have tired of the rant…and while your distance is no match for my tenacity, it does leave a fucking lousy taste.

You see, the immediacy of my grand admission will win over your passion for lecture. I will continue to learn, and you will lean. It is as it has always been, and our courage is proof. For that I am forever grateful. Few see it as we do...truth has arrived, but most have missed it.

The residue of our alliance clings effortlessly, wantonly to my skin. Your kindred spirit has never been nearer to my soul. Do you have a pass to roam these halls?

p.s. while I invoke.

Rabbbits in hats and white gloves misssing.

Here, there, and nowhere. I hear you. You think that I do not listen, so off you go. I have 1800 worth of shit in my head and plenty of time to spill.

I can't keep up with you so, I will allow you the lead. Mine is the last resort on the way to silence. I should be omitted. I will decline, but do not forget to offer.

p.s. chances are after all.

Support free speech, have a garage sale.

Shovel it out, cheaply priced and easily discarded. Pulling open box after box, nothing. Procrastination has dealt an awful hand, because now others have handed it off and it is gone. And you can’t remember when or where you saw it last.

It takes a knowing heart to properly decipher absolute meaning from the rubbish. The base, unfortunately, remain drawn into the vastness of the pit. I rather prefer the poignant to the insipid. I am beholden to the benevolent.

p.s. beautiful place amongst the cement and shoulders.

The telling of big tales with small words.

You are beautiful
and better than mischief.
Covered in grit
and grime,
here we encounter
the divine and bleeding.

I am powerful
and closer than you think.
Claimed by spit
and image,
we are together
the prudent and pleading.

A small amount of insight in exchange for your wisdom.

There is a fantastic amount of complacency in and around me. I find more harmony here, in these amenable arms, than anywhere else. Then, when I close my eyes and breathe deep, I feel peace. I can keep the burden of persuasion at arms length.

p.s. completed by convention.

Look both ways before crossing your fingers.

Conjecture all around and not a drop to drink. I can not bargain my way out of this one, my lovelies. Remember, be kind.

There is nothing to be gained through the slaughter. Bring on the lambs; leave the wool, the wolf is going to need it.

p.s. held up in a castle up on that hill.

The journey is in the eye of the beholder.

I can not justify my vacancy. Others have an explicit purpose in maintaining my absence, but I refuse to listen. Breaking free from their arrest, I have found, once again, the courage of my voice. Fuck agendas.

You call me out. Not surprising, as you are all too intelligent to consider blind continuance. Perhaps I shall perceive a familiar face these next few days. Ask and I will listen; I just need to know it is you. As you have surmised, I am not always certain who I will be.

You write of the misadventures of the hearing aid and accessories. I presume in order to provide a premonitory tale. I do concur; but I am not in the league of which you describe, and I do not deserve similar adulation. Your fears flatter, but I do not always feel worthy of their potency. The absence of mine leaves little dust upon that road.

p.s. the key to “Life…” choose every fourth word to find the meaning.

Here's to the literal definition of obvious.

I woke up too late, rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. Tried to piss but, as usual, my morning anatomy wouldn’t allow the release. Fifteen minutes, a cigarette, and a cup of coffee later, and I was free flowing. My shower was too hot and the pressure was too low. Using a white cotton hotel towel I dried myself off. I pulled my pants on one leg at a time, and then pulled my t-shirt over my head. Breakfast consisted of dry toast, a banana, and two more cups of coffee. I spent the rest of my day pulling words out of my ass for fuckers who could really give two shits.

p.s. sign it on the dotted line.

Knee jerk reaction avoided through one hour session.

Binge on whatever keeps you suspended. You know where, that place above all of the fucking bullshit. It is a good place, clean, and without remorse. I desire an ethereal bolster; loosening the threads, I allow myself to be pulled, and propped up. I feel each and every one of your fingers supporting me. You, my precious ones, are my binge.

I understand my metaphors are open to interpretation. Most of you are magnificent in that respect. Your creativity inspires me. Just be careful of what you project on me. Delusion resides on every corner, piles of it. The boundless and beautiful waves of your beguiling tales crash against my head.

p.s. apparently we have been places.

Behold the magic of the master will astound and amaze you.

I was thinking that perhaps I should take some time to adjust my rear view mirror. You are all gaining on me, and I need to clear some space. If you catch me, will you tear me apart, bit by bit?

All I ask is that you please leave something for which the authorities can use to identify me. I don’t give a fuck how they dispose of me when they are done.

Be truthful, do I look pretty held up for the light to shine through?

p.s. taking refuge in the palms and familiar faces of those I love.