True Christians are Anarcho-Communists and I am going to prove it.

It’s been a year since I left Connecticut after getting kicked out of the sober house. I’ve made a lot of progress in terms of reclaiming my mental stability, but I still have more work to do.
While I was In my addiction I had so much I wanted to prove. But all I could do was get drunk, word vomit on Twatter, and complain complain complain about this world full of morons. Meanwhile, if I wasn’t being such a moron I might have been able to prove my point. I rather chose to get mad every time some idiot regurgitated the lies they were fed, and I would use that as an excuse to get drunk and act a fool. It was a sicknesss.

Waking up from a coma

What have I been doing for the past twenty years? I feel like such a loser… WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… It’s all a blur. I know I had goals and dreams, but I squandered most of my time wallowing in misery, drinking, word vomiting on Twatter, sleeping, and making an utter fool of myself. And of course it took a pandemic of social distancing for me to come out of my self-imposed isolation.

A Vote for The People

Hordes of sheeple decked out in red, white and blue. Lined up in rows, waiting to cast their votes to allegedly decide who will dominate the airwaves for the next four years. A pointless tradition, I dare to say. But who am I to say anything? I’m just another incompetent cog in a system that cannot function without a skilled mechanic tinkering with every nut and bolt, or so they say.

Cosplay (Poem)

There are pills that…

Make you higher
Make you lower
Make you so fast and slower

Bring you laughter
Make you snap to
Realize you did something

Make you happy
Give you side play
Make you sit when you can’t stand

Pulling it Together (Journal Entry)

I’ve been holding back on posting anything on social media for the past seven months or so. I was debating whether to post anything at all, but since I’m back on my poetry kick lately I guess it couldn’t hurt to write a quick update about where I’m at in this point of my recovery.

Make Life Shine (Poem)

Count the ways
Count the words

Count the wrongs
Count the times

Oh how I count the things that gave my life a little less shine

The words I said but didn’t mean
The words I meant but never said

The times I fell and fell again
Then got back up
Made no amends

Harlem Get Up (Poem)

What’s that smell?
I just ate my vomit

Don’t look now
Here comes Harlem

“Excuse me Mrs.
Can you spare some change?

“Excuse me Mrs.
Can you spare some change?

Coffee?
A donut?
Some soup from the Chinese?

I’m hungry
And tired
And living in hell

Please pay the toll when you come where I dwell…”

A Little Dab Will Do (Poem)

A little dab will do

That’s what we all say
Til that little dab is through

No time for horse play

As we go off to the races
Which one will come first?

The high I desire?
Or my face in the dirt?

On Sabbatical (Journal Entry)

I hate the feeling of let down. It sends a post-traumatic sensation through my mind. Even the slightest hint that something has gone wrong is like the worst thing that could happen in my space and time. I’ve gotten better at separating feelings from facts. But the facts don’t hide the feelings, just like my right hand never knows what’s going on with my left.

My Kaleidoscope (Poem)

I found my silver lining tucked away in sharded glass Stacks on stacks of broken dreams, unfinished goals, uncharted maps They said that I could find it If only I could breathe If only I could hold my breath Fall on bended knees ‘It works if you work it’ The slogan of the day So […]