Errr….and then words….


Composite a spectrum,

Diagnosis alternative nostrum,

Qualifier doctrine placenta,

I’d call it a kid if only it were one.

So, birthplace be lobed,

Rounded and gray matter globed,

Because words man,

Them is the things that I once loved.

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Greased Shadows


Shadow child on a wire.

It’s like a greased shadow that always flits away at the moment of its realization. From the opposite side of the equation it must be infuriating to exist as a singular potential point of reality. To be there, not there, pulled away at the last second like a word that gets lost on the way out from lips.

I’ve let myself destroy so much of myself with this obsessive tracking and back tracking to find a semblance of reality, to make a change now seems not futile but like capitulating. Facts are facts though, and today I find myself more miserable for the fears and fascination that I ruminate on sober or half cooked hazes.

For all my certainty that I can find a conclusion that somehow rectifies the damage that I must have caused and that I’ve jailed myself inside mentally and emotionally no for more than a year I’m no closer to finding peace than ever in this fucking quest to verify my own sanity or its absence.

It’s not the drugs (though they sure as hell didn’t help), its not the crushed moments of happiness so consistently fucked up by my that wildly erratic streak of madness that would bring about a beast of a person rather than the genuine me. It’s an absence of understanding and a goddamn mental block that seems to sit heavier than lead across the pathways upstairs that say, “do something different and get something sustainably different. Make a fucking choice, you’re miserable, choose joy instead and go back to devil may care appreciation for the individual seconds. Intensity used to be something you looked forward to without fear, stop jumping at phones and the thunderous chance to strangle what could just as easily be a figment of your imagination. Go be wild and spontaneous and crazily thrilled to be alive, goddamn it, just fucking decide that happiness is as infectious as this venom you’ve been spewing to the detriment and disgust of anyone within spitting distance. Go get back in the manner of loving and spread some joy, learn something, make a change, and even if it’s as a fuck you to the unseen initially it’s still a choice you can make.”

I’m so sick of being sick in the head like this man. Fucking hell I’d like to see something amazing mundane and start appreciating the hell out of it….like that damn “American Beauty” scene with the plastic bag.

I’ll get there I suppose…I even start college in January and have a new list of goals for the first time in I don’t know how many years. Momentum, have to get it building up to break this bloody inertia.

Vented.

Popping Vessels and Such


Subconjunctival Hemorrhage Image

Slipshod shoestring rope, tied off way too high. Fuck man, I’d like to hear that story again, but this headache, you know?

Don’t puzzle me with temptations, screws got loose okay and I don’t want that medication. Plugged into a magnet machine which vivisected my skull peace with radio style pulsations. Dude says they’re gonna have a topographical map of that gray matter.

They can change the tones to show puddles of blood, goop, or whatever submerging force sketched them wrinkly hills if they want.

Today it’s about hemorrhaging. Poor baby has that capillary blown man, shit looks rough. Doctor, where are thou doctor?

Show on the road, shit, last time that didn’t go far. Van life it then, lets live like homeless rockstars.

Yeah, let’s do that.

Support for Creators


Patreon – Creator Support Website

Hi all – it’s an interesting time, we are living in a van (actually yes, down by a river) and we are in dire need of support to help break away from the day to day survival in order to create more, and better, content for this site and several other projects. If you are interested in helping us by becoming a Patron our heartfelt thanks would be insufficient to express the gratitude.

Also, if you yourself are a creator and interested in pursuing this avenue we would be ever so appreciative if you would like to use our referral link below as we might get a small kickback, ;-).

Patreon Referral Link

Best wishes, and thank you again!

Catching Up & Thank You


It’s been quite some time since I got anything put up here. Life has changed rather dramatically over the past couple weeks. I moved coasts, started a far more relaxed job at a local climbing store slinging coffee, beer and gear. Started climbing again, re-entered the program, have been juggling all the variables to get my life together and realize some satisfaction with who I am. I’ve rediscovered passions, happiness, and actually feel like I’m re-establishing connections with my family – something I never really expected to happen. There is the challenge of leaving behind the few very important and meaningful people along with the prospect of seeing my kids any time in the near future.

Sadly, it’s more important that I resolve some of the issues with my BPD and bi-polar which will allow me the opportunity to be a positive and consistent presence in their lives instead of the erratic lunatic I’ve been. Would be nice to not create such convoluted space within my relationships, perhaps even find some peace.

I do have an essay in the works and some other writing pieces which I’m hoping to get finished in the not so distant future.

Thanks for the patience everyone, and the support you’ve shown for this little experiment. I hope life is treating everyone well.

-S

The Update of Hope – 1/12/13


My apologies for not getting on earlier. Everyone following and others have been so incredibly supportive of this site and my work that I feel guilty over a prolonged absence.

However, for the first time in many moons that absence is not related to horrifying events, rather the beginning of a renewed vigor for life and the culmination of some challenging work.

I am being tested at a new position in the hopes it will be come something long term – I’ve thrown myself into it beyond 100% in the attempt to do so. Happily, and with great satisfaction.

I’m finally paying child support, not as much as I would like to be giving to my kids, but everything that I can afford. Consistently and with the intention of finally becoming a consistent presence.

I talk to my children once a week, reliably, and without fail. I have 5 different alarms that go off and warm me so that if I collapse in exhaustion either the alarms, or calls from multiple people warning me, will get my ass up to be there to speak with my remarkable son and daughter. While the animosity is thick between my ex-wife and I, somewhere I’m finding the appreciation and respect for her that I should have. She’s been raising my children while I was unable to. It is my responsibility to earn my way back into the family I destroyed, not expect it handed back with a smile. I don’t think that way all the time, but as I build a better existence and confidence I find that it takes away the undercurrents that I let drag me farther from them.

I’m living in a stable location….more than 40 moves in 2-years….STABILITY would be a blessing in so many ways. It took me almost 3-weeks just to put my suitcase away because I was certain that something would go wrong…now I’m considering bringing more clothes that have somehow survived all the travel.

My squishy and delicious Mimi without who the world would have stopped so long ago. Forever and always will I be hers, and she mine.

Happiness.

I think I’m getting closer to happiness.

God damn if it didn’t take one hell of a journey to get here, and he (or she) shows that I gave up time and time again. They also know I’m terrified that the other shoe will drop at any second – usually I’m the one wearing it when it does.

I’m optimistically terrified of arriving at a new future, a start to something better, and becoming what I was intended to be.

My love to everyone who continues to support the blog. I will be trying to get more consistent again as everything balances out.

Happy 2017, merry-post “holiday insert” – and my wishes for kindness, satisfaction, joy, and contentment in the coming year.

Tonight the world is peaceful.

peaceful-night-2

-S

 

 

 

 

Pen with Wit


This prose of mine,

Uses wit to share,

A world all in rhyme.

 

From common to fantastic,

A one man show,

Cheerily quite tragic.

 

My thoughts Will Shake,

Romantic exaltation,

Bard your thirst I can slake.

 

Hear this soul vision,

Verses as a paintbrush,

Abstract mind without television.

 

I abdicate the final word,

Nod my head to a Lord,

Whose pen was mightier than a sword.

Politics and Felons


political-skull

Snow blind hegemony awash in crystalline flakes,

Glittering razors culling our commoners and drunks with the shakes.

Loyalties cleaned and washed through censoring filters,

Amidst shapeshifters shifting to mask hands covered in blisters.

From the cold of their souls and the heat of their rage,

Seared meat not so young as to be tender with age.

The gallows of yore leave fractions aghast,

That here and now they have gone and the past is all past.

Passe the romance and notions of change,

Politics is riddled with absence,

Most notably shame.

 

P.S. This was written while watching the debates and final results during the Hilary vs Trump 2016 election. Was sitting in jail with a host of felons who were equally disgusted.

Overseer


Sit powerfully with your eyes cast low,

Shouldering sugared pillars of duty,

That the sun can rest amid glorious delights,

And the travelers roam free across their paths,

Searching always for the journey-

-not the end.

Dog Paws on a Keyboard


winking-typing-dog

 

I write because I want to be fed Milk Bones.

Sometimes I crave recognition and commentary as a reassurance that I might be better than average, even excel at something. Everyone wants to know that they have a gift, some form of prowess, a “something exceptional” that deserves an attaboy pat on the head.

I write because I need to catch a bouncing tennis ball.

At other points, the words pour with alacrity, urgent, demanding, and a quench to the heated thoughts being forged in reaction to an onslaught of emotional intensity. Good, bad, high flying optimism, crumbling shades of depression, maniacal exuberance, blaspheming anger blinding out reason, blue oceans of regret and shame – any and all as long as the fire burns hot enough to crack the walls.

I write because I like eating my chew toy.

Rare is the moment of universal quiet when thought retains an unadulterated purity unstained by dramatic flare, event or heart or mind driven twinge. When understanding is met or sought, clarity is both absent and present, and where the exercise itself serves the purpose.

I write because I’m a dog, and a keyboard feels like a warm blanket and pillow on a snow day.