I hope one day

I have a good day

again.

I hope I learn to live

before I decide to die.

I hope

I find a way to hope

again.

I hope I can survive

long enough

to want to stay alive.

Life’s a dream until it’s a nightmare.

Everything’s good until it’s not.

You’re hanging on until you’re threadbare.

Everything’s cool until it’s too hot.

You’re full of love until hate takes over.

You keep on fighting until you’re too tired.

You’re drunk and stoned until you’re sober.

You trust people until you’ve met too many liars.

There’s nothing to worry about until there is.

You keep on going until you’re stuck.

You keep hitting until you miss.

You keep on winning until you’re out of luck.

It doesn’t matter until it does.

You can’t feel until it hurts.

You can swim until it floods.

It’s not over until you’re in the dirt.

Why was I cursed

to be born me?

To have to go through life

an anomaly.

To never fit,

never have a place.

Never have a person,

a connection.

I’m like a ghost

watching loves

and lives

from the outside.

Wishing they could be mine.

Wishing any of them

could be mine.

How can one person

right the wrongs in the world?

Love your brother.

How can one person

stand up to the greed and tyranny?

Love your sister.

How can one person weather this storm

and fight against oppression,

suffering and inequity?

Love your children.

Love your neighbors.

How can one person

stand up to all of this evil,

overcome all of this chaos

and injustice and poverty

and war and suffering

and fighting and death?

Love yourself.

Love your family.

Love your neighbor.

Love your enemies.

Love!

Love!

Love!

My life has become a slow death. I watch the pieces fall away one by one. And when I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to be dead, to have the pain and suffering finally be over, it fills me with joy. There’s nothing I’d love more than knowing all this is finally behind me. I don’t like being alive. The only things here I love are my four kids. They’re the only reason I don’t just end all of this. The closest I can come to death is smoking weed every night until I pass out so that’s what I do. My life has become taking care of kids, working, and smoking weed until I pass out. And an occasional social engagement. Usually related to writing or music. I feel like those are things I’m good at maybe. People seem to enjoy when I perform. They seem to like reading what I write. But that’s a fleeting respite, like a drug. I wish I had something to look forward to but I don’t. I have no future other than death. Sorry I don’t have anything good to say. I‘ve been struggling for so long it’s all I know. All I feel are anger, depression, and loneliness. And at this point I really don’t see the possibility of any of this changing. I’ve tried everything. I’ve had psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists, everything under the sun. Sex helps but for me it never happens. My life has become a slow death.

I’m learning to live

with sadness, anger,

learning to survive

with loneliness.

Because there isn’t going to be

a replacement, a new love.

Not in time to save me.

I don’t have the energy

to look for someone new

and there isn’t anyone old.

There is only you

always waiting in the wings

and I’ll wait until my last day

speaking your name

with my last breath.

Not all of us get happy endings.

Some of us just get slow deaths.

I hate my brain. And I hate myself because of it. I don’t seem to be capable of sustained happiness. There’s a gaping hole that can only be filled when I’m with a woman and getting regular sex, but even that is a temporary fix like a drug. I’m so full of anger and hatred. I try so hard to get it out, through writing and music and karate and running and drugs and sex and whatever else I can find. But it’s always there.

Being with my kids helps. They’re the only people I truly love. And some of my friends and family to a lesser extent. But everything else is hatred and anger and fire.

And things are getting better. They could even actually be good soon. But I’m still angry and bitter and always looking for a fix and not getting it. When I’m getting regular sex it disappears, but I’m not getting that, and haven’t in a long time. I hate that that’s the only time I can be remotely close to happy.

I look to my past and feel like the anger started when I was a kid and moved from England to the USA. It might have been before that. But there’s a block there. There’s a wall that my brain has created that I just can’t get past. So I’m angry and I don’t know why and I can’t figure it out.

Sadly this is the driving force in my life. I can focus it on productive things like writing and music and running, but more often then not I’m looking for sex and drugs. Especially sex. Oh well. That’s it for today’s rant.

I’m trying my best

to pick up the pieces and move on

but I think all the pieces are gone.

So I’m trying to find

new pieces in the dust

but they fly away and loose my trust.

I can’t see

past these gnarled trees

if there’s even a forest in the winter breeze.

So I’m stuck

in mud and blood and sweat;

I’ve lost my life, my safety net.

Beauty is in the eye

of a dead deer bleeding out in the woods

staring at a dancing nymph

shimmering with beauty

like the beauty in your eyes

when we lock orbs and smile

but I just want to fuck you in the ass.

Dildos and condoms

dance in my head

as I think about the Christmas

-like limitless passion

of love like a black hole

sucking in all light

which is why I just want to fuck you in the ass.

That moist gaping sphincter,

pink and puckered,

ready and gaping.

Right between those round

tan skin pillows,

bumpers to absorb the smacking and slapping.

You can be gay, straight, bi,

any race, any gender, any religion.

Anyone one of us can be fucked in the ass.

But I want you.

I want to fuck YOU in the ass.