Profoundly sick (Don't read)

You're a fucking pussy! If it happens for me then you're safe with your little deal but if it happens to you you change? The deals off? You know what you promised to.

Laughter and fun were so easily avoided with a drink then. Make ups are easy with a drink. Without medication it's harder to heal.

Find my meds. They're hard to find. You can't hold them. You really can't buy them. Maybe you can buy maps to them but you can't buy these meds in a store and put them in your grocery bag and bring them home.

My meds are transparent. They're hard to see. You have to be in a place. On the beam maybe, but sometimes when you have fallen off the beam and are far from home the medication appears.

Fill my heart with meds. I'm drowning. No one gives a fuck unless you're pretty. No one cares unless you know how to sing. Fuck you you sheep!!!!!

It is not a sign of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick world!

Where?

I'm in stress out mode. When am I not? I don't know. I feel the anxiety creeping back into me like a cancer stronger than ever after a remission. I haven't slept much. I won't sleep much tonight. I hate my job! They're threatening to fire me if I don't become their indentured servant. I can't stand being controlled. I'm fucking out of it right now. Checkmated by life once again.

What the fuck! I'm 37. Very behind schedule. I'm all or nothing and you know what that means I am today. Where's the peace?

Where did you go? The joy for life? The fun?

I am poetry!!

A lot of people don't realize that I am a poet. I'm the real deal. My poetry is the kind that comes from angels, the kind of poetry that you can only write if you get yourself into a space where you watch a sunset and cry. True poetry comes from tears, tears that come from a place where you are witnessing something so beautiful that you have to cry. My poetry style is probably best categorized as beauty tear poetry. I'm special, I have special emotions. That's why I'm an important poet.

You get to be a poet of my stature without crying a lot of tears. Whenever I recognize beauty I start crying. I'm crying right now just because I can totally spot the genius in this writing that I'm creating at this very moment.

That's all art is, being in the moment, right? That's why people are always saying I'm brilliant.

But enough about me and more about my beauty. My poetry. Not only does poetry come from beauty but it comes from darkness. I have entered the realm of darkness. The depths of evil. The terror that your average American would go into cardiac arrest if he even knew a glimpse of the darkness I have witnessed. My incredible poetry comes from this place too.

I'm very sensitive so usually I don't express my deepest feelings but I feel that because this is the internet it's a safe place to share. Because people on the internet just want to help you. I feel safe and not judged right now.

My poem that I would like to share with you is titled innocent addicts.

Crack cocaine, heroine or speed
I can't help what's coming into me
My mom's a junkie and a slut
cigarettes and pot while I'm in her gut

I'm innocent I'm an innocent addict
I'm innocent It's not my fault that I love drugs!

incubator will be my place to live
5 years from now I'll be a Jerry's kid
20 years old can't even read
still addicted to crack cocaine and speed

I'm innocent it's my fault
I learned it from you mom! In your stomach!!!!!!!

Supermoon

Almost there
but not quite here
waiting for
the magic beer
a taste from God
a thought control
a painful ring
a dormant soul
friends from low
a head to fly
coming down
is nowhere guy
oldest games
and newest tricks
join the club
make your picks
I'm not last
but never first
I want the best
and think the worst
so hold my towel
I'll need it soon
I'm going in
the supermoon

Just a tear

Half asleep
warm in bed
the lady's gone
I rest my head
one last thing
before I'm gone
try to write
to uncle John
evil is
as evil's friends
open doors
make amends
strangers speak
in no ones talk
but all we do
is turn and walk
hold it tight
the sacred's near
don't let go
it's just a tear

My muse is a dancer

Today was the stage.
Is the stage truth?
Not if it sucks.
I don't suck today.
Is that truth?
Not if it's a lie on the inside.
I'm full of half truths.
Where is the truth then?
Not even the doctor knows.
This is why he charges money.
If I'm half truth am I half lie?
My lie is potential.
The not doing is the lie.
The doing is the truth.
I know what feels right and what feels wrong from situation to situation.
Erase the black and white and enter the world of technicolor.
My muse or your silencer?
Use everything you hear, see, taste, smell and feel.
This is your art, this is my muse.
I'm dancing with her now.

clown head

Downhill racing
forward facing
curving speed
eating feed
jarring star
lightening car
holding fear
trying near
TV shows
mother knows
late start
big heart
hit down
holding clown