Vegas baby

Memories flutter in my head like streamers off the handlebars of my first two- wheeler; giving the unseen wind a voice, validating its existence.
There are days Id be happier to have amnesia.
Proverbs such as “A calm sea never made a great sailor” would imply that I should be an expert at navigating this tumultuous life.
Yet I have felt more often like the sailor in Homer’s Gulf Stream,
than a seasoned Captain.
Im fucking pissed.
My hand is always one card short of a straight flush.
A less honest person would keep that card up their sleeve.
You pay or you play.
At this table, I play AND I pay.
Itd almost be worth it if the drinks were free.

Joshua

I recognized you from a recurring dream
there were no grassy fields or winding streams
just distant flames and muffled screams
across the cracked and barren land.
where the kids with shiners congregate
to share the lies or tempt their fate
to lick their wounds or subjugate
the scars that still remain.
And through this prisons cold steel bars
I saw you there amongst the stars
blinding as the high beams of oncoming cars
always beyond my reach.
in the loneliness of waking hours
I could close my eyes and feel your power
from last nights barstool to this mornings shower
waiting for you to arrive.
I started to think I shouldn’t believe
between blooming flowers and falling leaves
just a string of tapestries the sandman weaves
a futile fantasy
but in the darkest hour of my despair
I opened the door and you were there
leather jacket and jet black hair
a six string on your back.
and every moment since that day
you take my strife and breath away
for the very first time I kneel and pray
and thank the universe for you.

End of the line

I learned this morning, as the icy fangs of winter pierced my fingers and toes, that the hardest wounds to heal are those we inflict upon ourselves.
My tires spin on this road I have taken to avoid those universal truths in the rear view mirror, yet it’s the lies I have told myself that brought me full circle and landed me directly at their front door.
Forced to ring the bell and stare into their cold black eyes, I pray to the Gods of unrequited love to smite the snake oil peddlers of romance and happily ever afters, that I may untangle my guts and exorcise these fantasies.
Like a lost child, I cross the threshold with my heart in my hands.
The windows in this room block out the light of hope with more practical décor such as
reality and logic.
I hold up here in the corner, I live between the slats in the blinds, for it is better to feel just a sliver of warmth cross my face and daydream about how it could have been, how I wanted it to be, than wake up and exist without it.

yeah, like that…

How fortuitous this kiss,
to have found me over the cluttered table,
and under the radar.
What else you got in that bag of tricks Slick?
Show stopping slight of hand?
Water into wine?
I can taste the tarnish on your silver tongue.
Ive seen this act before,
What say we fast forward to where you disappear?

Just another Saturday

How much of what I desire is because another said it should be so?
Even my Guinness seems to whisper “just one more”
Blind hook ups from friends who know whats best for me,
I’m almost ashamed that I want more.
Dr of dentistry is even playing a shrink,
when he says happiness is a state of mind.
But he’s got at 28,
what its taking me a lifetime to try to find
So where should we plan to meet,
yes this conversation was quite grand.
If I tell you that I’m lost,
will you without asking take my hand?
Will we speak of what’s in my eyes or how you see inside my soul?
Or will you rant about the Bears and how Notre Dame’s out of control?
Your smile looks inviting tonight, and when you walked in every head turned.
So ill listen to my Guinness,
regardless of how absurd,
And ill drink up this experience
as another lesson learned.

What I meant to say was…

Restless…

It was one of those nights.
The kind of night when silence and anxiety stretch the minutes into hours.

A night spent lurking the house for a smoke and fumbling in the dark for a light.
I check the weather in new york and scribble a few random thoughts on a flattened receipt from the liquor store.

I’m wondering what hes doing.

Does he find me in his thoughts at unexpected times?
As my body hits the couch, this state of suspended animation propels me in and out of sleep like the pendulum of a clock that won’t keep time.
This three o’clock hour will linger all day, until my mind catches up with my body and the sandman synchronizes our watches.

When I say “I love you”…

I love the ocean.
I love the salt on my skin.
I love to fish, even when I don’t catch anything.
I love that regardless of times efforts to keep us apart, I will always breathe it in once more.
I love falling asleep knowing I will be there again one day.

The good, the bad, and him.

With the swift steady blow of a heavyweight boxing champion, this, by all appearances, small framed man with his fragile beauty, landed a dexterous left hook. Brute force met a pillar of stone, shattering it into a thousand tiny microscopic fragments. How did I get here? How had the years of training and conditioning that gave way to such a colossus of strength, simply vanish into thin air like a mirage on the hot desert sand? Was I merely an apparition? I had taken much harder punches and stood firm. What must he think of me as I lay here face down, bleeding on the canvas?
Somewhere between heaven and hell, I am fixed in this purgatory of affection and disdain. I long for his touch, even if the impact is fatal. I initiate my own destruction as I beg for his mercy. I hunger for his presence, and feed myself off his half eaten plate. What does this say of me?
As he chases his dream, mine is to be at his side. I am nothing more than a moment he paused the motion picture of his life to use the restroom. And still I wait. I wait for the day he may once again return to my threshold. I long for his tales over froth covered pints and dare I say…his flesh.

Eulogy

In recent news, a man dies at the age of 61 last week. He was a prominent member of his community and active in his church. Some could say his faith in Jesus was self evident through all those he touched in the biblical sense. The wife he had lovingly divorced after 38 years, was visibly shaken as she mourned from across the crowded funeral parlor while his girlfriend and family received those who came to pay their respects. Guests who arrived were speechless upon seeing how carefully the photos were selected and elegantly arranged to ensure that 59 of his 61 years were effectively erased. He is survived by 3 sisters and a brother, whom he affectionately referred to as “white trash”, a daughter he disowned for reminding him of them, 4 grandchildren he didn’t bother to know, and a son to whom he left all he had. While it is always hard to say goodbye to a loved one, those who knew him well are at peace with the understanding that in his devout acceptance of Christ as his Savior, he will be received in heaven with all the tolerance and forgiveness he showed here on earth. It is truly a sad day when a Christian of this stature is laid to rest.