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.

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.

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?

Seeing in Fours (Poem)

My advice for active alcoholics is…

If you’re seeing in ones
You’re good
If you’re seeing in twos
You’re a little bit tipsy
If you’re seeing in threes
You might do something you will regret
If you’re seeing in fours
GOD BLESS

Step One: Unmanageability (Twelve Steps)

‘And my life has become unmanageable…’ This is clearly an understatement for the life that I have led since birth. I’ve been a loner, a pessimist, an antagonist, a miserable wretch. I’ve been a liar, a cheater, a wallower in my own self-made dispair. I’ve been a walking, talking, babbling brook of disaster.

Step One: Powerlessness (Twelve Steps)

Addiction is the cold war pulling at our heartstrings; each an isolation of its own and all unwilling to reach out in communion with the rest. It’s a cold war that leaves us seething with resentment and anger over the people, places, and things we have no control over.

Enslaved by social norms, jonesing for distraction, obsessed with feel-good moments, fixated on the notion that the whole world revolves around whatever prison we have created for ourselves.

Step One: Despair and Isolation

Despair and isolation is the sum of most of my life. I can’t remember a time when I felt connected to this nonsensical world around me. The ‘people’ in it continuously leave me in a staggering daze, endlessly pondering how humanity has come this far with such astounding stupidity weighing on the scale of triumph.

Growing up, I was an extremely angry loner. I was mean to all my short-lived friends and I was royally pissed at the world. I saw absolutely no hope in the future, and I didn’t give a flying rat’s ass what anybody thought of me.

Lost in Space (Poem)

How can someone who burns so hot be so cold?
How can something that feels so right be so wrong?

It’s like I’m lost in space and I can’t go home

The further I drift
The hotter I burn
The colder it gets
The more I yearn

For something less painful than the stake in my back
I can’t relax
I can’t look at myself
This can’t go on
I’m still trying to make sense of it

I can’t make amends to it

Drag Me to The Pit (Poem)

Here comes the dragon
I know he’s kreeping round the way

I could smell that bird coming out the pit from miles away

I act like I don’t see him as I go about my biz
Check him in the mirror like I’m locked up in a prison

These walls, these walls
They’re all around
A dungeon in my mind

His shadow kreeps like candlelight
A traitor to my eye

He’s there but he’s not with me
He’s coming for the kill