3 AM

Tonight I'll remember my past to conjure my future. I'll lay here unmoving, unmoved in the present. Tonight my mind replays old memories like sepia toned film reels.
And my mind wanders....

I think about young lovers, unsure of their footing. Fumbling with their words, learning to walk. To talk to one another. Wrestling with trust and empathy.
I remain the observer of these comedies and tragedies. A sometimes stern face floating just outside the action on the stage. Taking in the act, watching the play unfold. My days of participation are long gone. Whether through age, inability, or just a general sense of malaise. I instead choose to wrestle with my self. Locked in a mortal embrace with my shadow. A shade that has followed me throughout my life. My constant companion.

I find myself without the time required to find a role in those plays of so long ago. I can't summon the effort to open myself up to such scrutiny. When I find myself on that particular stage I chance a look around only to find myself blinded. By circumstance or design, it remains the same.

I wonder about my children. Their questions with the answers that when I do have them, still sometimes steal the breath of me. How can I give them such crushing truths? I don't. I take the simpler route, "You'll understand when you're older." Everyday they get older. The snapshots in my mind of them as babies always a few years behind the reality of their age. Unsure of whether it's a cop out or a responsible act. Only time will tell I suppose.

I wonder about my comrades. In the shit, living the dream. Surviving the nightmare. I find myself wishing I was in it with them. I find myself glad I'm not. An addiction in itself. These are just withdrawals. I wish them well daily.

My thoughts turn to my friends. Lives out there beyond my reach. Existing outside my range of vision. I find myself wanting to go visit everyone of them. So hard to be everywhere at once. and time marches inevitably on. Age always stalking a few steps behind, out of sight.

I wonder about the nature of attachment and how differently everyone does it. The way you grew and how you live defining the nature and strength of every life yours touches. It's warming, it's solace, it's terrifying, it's devastating, it's cold.

I suppose it's life. Sometime soon, I'll find the time to unpack mine and start to live it again.

Like a rolling stone.

My body sometimes chooses for me. Like the last few hours I spent napping. I don't remember wanting to nap. But here I am, waking up confused. What the hell just happened? Oh well. Here I am. A little bit more rested and ready to continue.

I spent a few hours today talking to an old friend. It was good. Got my mind lubed up and ready to roll. It's nice to have help shaking out some of the cobwebs. Now the music is on, a cigarette is lit, and the ideas are roiling. Come with me.


I thought a bit today about religion and faith. About the times I looked for some kind of God. Something, anything that could convince me. I spent so much time as a child looking, high and low, looking for some kind of empirical proof. Here's what I've found so far. I've seen God in the eyes of my children, in their laughter. I've seen God in the open spaces of Earth. I've seen God in the Oceans. Dark, mysterious, unknowable and strange. I've seen God in the eyes of dead men. On their lips as they expire. By definition, the same God that makes puppies, kitties, and babies; also kills them. Well, to be fair, if not God something. Something spiritual. Something bigger than me.

"You've got a Methodist coloring book and you color really well
But don't color outside the lines or God will send you to Hell
'Cause God hates war and God hates crime
but he really hates people who color outside the lines."

Today I thought about some sort of manifesto. I'm not really sure how it all fleshes out, but here's what I've got so far:

1. Want to fuck my brain? Not in a warped sense. Nor in a literal horror movie sense. In the sense that yeah, we could have sex. Great. Awesome. BUT, if we can't talk to each other, what's the point? It won't hold my interest at all. Hell, if you don't turn my mind on, I probably won't get off in the first place. So really why bother? Let's not waste each others time. In theory we should be able to help each other grow and change intellectually. I'm not saying every other word out of our mouths should be a dissertation, but, if we can't actually hold a conversation now and then, it's going to get boring. Fast. And bored leads to bad. Always.

2. I want Domestic Bliss. Not in a zany black and white 50s or 60s sense. But.... sort of. I think anymore that wanting that kind of thing is the unusual thing, as opposed to it being the norm like it used to be. I'm not saying in any sense that I want some boring Joe Friday kind of life. "I'm ready for some sex. Are you lubricated? No? Oh well. Here I go." Not my bag. That being said, I don't necessarily throw out the idea of gender roles, or societal norms. Would I make my old lady work on the car while I sat inside? Probably not. ever. Does that mean I wouldn't show her how to work on a car if she wanted to learn? Of course not. I think it's vital that if you are in a relationship you learn from the person you're with. As much as you can.

I can fully admit that I wouldn't mind coming home to a woman wearing an apron cooking dinner. And once the kids were in bed maybe playing in the kitchen with her wearing an apron and nothing else. I don't know, I suppose it's easier to envision than to explain. In no way do I have a problem with a woman being out in the workforce making her way in the world. Personally, I think staying at home is the more exhausting job. I did it for a spell with my kids and it wore me out faster than combat did. I'm of the mind that all of that can be achieved and two people can still be equals and partners in a relationship. I think it's a by product of mutual respect.

3. No relationship is without turbulence. To believe otherwise is to be naive or a 12 year old. That being said it's way too easy to be understanding of the person you're with and not add to the problem by being a dick, or just behaving in a way that makes matters worse. People have bad days. People have buttons. I do, you do, everyone does. That being what it is, in no way does that give you or the person you're with free rein to act a fool every time something doesn't go their way or upsets them. It's mostly common sense. Be a grown up. Too easy right?


4. Being in a relationship isn't the death of adventure. Sure, being in an adult relationship, especially when kids are involved makes it a bit more difficult.... But it doesn't preclude it. It just takes a bit more planning.


That's all I have for now, especially since my shower is calling me. But, it was on my mind, so I had to get it out. Off to shower and let the gears cool down.

Superman's Dead.

Superman's Dead.

It's been a while since I've been up at midnight, smoking cigarettes, listening to music, and letting my head bleed ink onto paper. (As it were.)
Today after packing my life (or local world perhaps. However you choose to see it.) into boxes, I had some time to think. About where things are headed. About where I'm headed. I used to think that the future held mostly this for me.


But as time has gone on and time has worked its magic on me. For better or worse. I've changed. I wonder sometimes whether it really has been better or worse. I'm still undecided. I think sometimes that this is more than likely what the future me will be closer to.


My thoughts quit running towards who would be in my future outside of my babies, family, and friends. I wonder now if there might be horses. I've had feelings ripped across my back. I've held myself while they held someone else. I've stood alone; waiting. Wondering. Wishing. I've played that game. And now that I've flipped the table and gone home, the game just isn't that attractive anymore. Every time I thought, "I'm giving you myself." I never saw that in actuality I was losing myself. Throwing myself away. And for what exactly? What did I ever have to show for any of that? Spent rubbers? Ruined sheets? Rosy skin? I'm still not sure. Nothing really tangible.


These days my bones creak when I get out of bed. But strangers love to point out how I don't look my age. "That's great dude, now can you please shut the fuck up and put my stuff in boxes?" You'd think with the booze, smoke, and abuse I've put my body through, I'd look like I was 70. But, I only feel that old. My joints feel twice that in the rain. Well, and with the horny. Sooner or later, I'll crush my instinct. No longer a HOTANIMALMACHINE. I'll just be a MACHINE. Someday. At least, that's what I tell myself. But you and I both know, that the we lie to ourselves better than anyone else can.

"I remember falling.
I remember marching.
Like a one man army."

This year, amidst preparing to receive my life back into my own hands, I also discovered that broken dreams taste like broken teeth. It was a bit freeing to give up on a few things. I have a niece now. She's like the daughter I always wanted, but finally gave up on. It's just not really feasible at my age to have more kids. At least that's what I've been told. And it sounds pretty damn reasonable to me.

So, right cross, followed by a few jabs, and that one's KO'd. "Don't cut it Mick. It doesn't need to see." It's dying and being born again all in one moment to let go of things like that. Perhaps that's where I went. I haven't bleed into the ether for a while. Maybe that's where the blood went. Where my pulse went. Who knows? for now though, bedtime. Hopefully my sleep will be like my days. Dreamless.

"you need to understand there's nothing strange about this
you need to know your friends.
I'll be waving my hand watching you drown.
watching you scream, quiet or loud."

Suite: Judy Blue Eyes

In seven days, I'll be back to being Mr. Rhodes. I don't quite know how to feel about that. I reckon parts of me are elated. Other parts equally terrified. I look back at just three months ago when I was ready to reenlist. I know that getting out puts a lot more weight on my shoulders as far as working towards the life I want. Being in the Infantry had made it nearly impossible to see the boys, much less work on bettering the custody arrangement. I'm set for school. I'm set to start this business. I'm set to carry on. I'm older, single, and ready to rebuild my life as opposed to just soldiering. I've been sleeping so little lately, I sometimes wonder if my clarity is at its peak or if I'm really just looking through cracks in a dirty window. I know that this big of a change in the circumstances is big enough to generate stress, but for the most part, I think I'm keeping a decent handle on things.

Things have slowed up here on the clearing front, which is....aggravating. But what can you do? I just try and push through it. I'll be damned if I let paperwork slow me down. Now, that I'm getting out, I think the best thing I can do is destroy my school work, see the kids as much as possible, and avoid horrible decisions on the relationship front.

Sounds like a plan.

Devil By the Deed.

Our pens ran dry, my love.
eyes locked across the trenches,
the battlefield, the bedroom,
the stars a little less bright these days.
Or maybe it's just my eyes.
"Hey Bright Eyes...."
Hell, maybe it's your eyes.

Ink ran off the pages, onto our skin.
Into our veins.
Indelible fingerprints all over my life.

Our pens ran dry. My love?
Hand in hand and hand on throat.
We plunged our pens into each others hearts.
Painting pictures with each others blood.
Peaceful and passionate.
Dramatic and morbid.

Blood pulsing. Pulses racing.
Whole new worlds all at our fingertips.
And we finger painted, tearing at each other.
Smearing what we found.
Congealed and clotted is the picture.
All that remains.

Killin' Time.

I'm in a holding pattern. Now that I've made a decision about whether or not get out, times seems to be be sprinting and crawling at the same time. Wrangling with a civilian at the college to get what I need to get out of here on time. Then, school and prep work for a business. I can fall back on teaching if need be, but truth be told... the thought of working with my family is a million times more exciting. Beyond hoping everything works out, we are preparing. I'm pretty confident in being able to get this thing up and running.

Other things in my life are a little less clear. I continuously tell myself I don't have time for distractions. My ennui and apathy are at all time highs. Outside of work, I haven't even been going outside. I just don't.... feel the need to. I've been sleeping during the day, and lately staying up way too late. It's a vicious cycle. I'm kinda just living vicariously through my brothers. Baby Jaelyn is magical and I'm her favorite. Which is wonderful with a sad aftertaste.

And so, I trudge on like I do. I'm my age. Some days I feel twice that. Most days, I feel like I'm in my twenties but have lived a little too much and seen more than I should have. Meh. What can you do? I'm looking forward to buying my land, building my house and maybe getting a dog or two for companionship in between the boys visits. It's not a life for everyone, but for the hermit lifestyle I've ended up in, I guess it'll work. Still looking at adoption a little further down the road. Who knows what will happen? The best laid plans and all.

Alt .End

Every now and then, I find myself waking up.
Eyes open to scars and souvenirs.
I find myself stretching and yawning.
Sleep walking through my life.
There are times when I rub my eyes and look around.
I look at my life up until now.
I stare into the distance and think about what still waits.

Most nights I am content with being one.
Other nights, I am tempted to open my chest and offer myself to those I would be willing to do so with.
But that Fear always walks with me.
Closing my mouth, shutting me down.
Bouncing between feeling nothing and everything.

Mornings are always mornings.
The coffee's always black.
And there's always miles to go before I sleep.
Always.
Always a Long, Cold, Dark just up the road.
The only thing that isn't a constant is whether or not I choose to travel it alone.

'Til Dawn or The End of Time.

I used to have dreams of... Wait.
I used to have memories of...Wait.
I had a vision once of... Wait.
Okay, it could have been all three.
Or none of the above.

At my age... at my rage? At my behest?
It doesn't matter.
There was a girl there.
A Woman even.
Dark of hair, eyes dark, deep, and wet, like an ocean.
Or perhaps a pond.
My visions are cloudy. Or perhaps my dreams.

I'm no longer sure.
She had a scent about her.
Hard to describe. Harder to remember. Visualize?
Perhaps she smelled of a home. The warm scent of cookies wafting about her neck.
A scent of soft smiles and the pitter patter of little feet about the house.
Perhaps her scent smelled more like early morning in the temperate wild.
Dew, and the light tang of all night exertion. The wild scent of practicality, lust in nature.
The fight for day to day survival. The scent of doing whatever it took to see just one more morning.

But my mind wanders these days. I don't really remember.
Her lips though.
I think I can recall those.
They were full, upturned just a little in the softest of smiles.
At times, her teeth on them, just tugging a bit.
I swear, every time she spoke it was music, it was life, it was the song of the south.

No wait...

Perhaps it was always hate that escaped. Bitterness and vitriolic bile that spewed from that orifice.
Or maybe it was always lies. Two faces always behind those teeth.
I can never keep it straight anymore.
Well I should certainly remember what she was like inside.
Always warm, always caring.
So warm. Supple flesh, light kisses, always connecting on a level that could make me weep with happiness.
She was; breathing for the first time. She was; being born again. She was as vibrant and vital as sunlight.
She was the gentle nudge when needed, She was the strength that gave me strength. My backbone, my heart, my partner, my equal and my best friend.

No...

Maybe she was all crude oil and razor blades inside. A virus. Something that infected me, killed all immunities I had to everything corrupt. She was the boot on my neck, taking my breath. Turning me into something equally monstrous.
She was like radiation sickness. Burning me alive from the inside out, taking my strength and making me weep blood, a nuclear fire in my guts that destroyed me, body, mind and soul.
She was sour sweat, ferocity born of a malignant disdain for anything other than herself. Maybe in spite of herself. She was a rough tug and a vanishing act. The stench of cigarettes and a growing self hatred in my breast the only calling card she left.

Well... my mind is cloudy. Maybe she was none of the above. Maybe she was the War I saw? The only one I could ever love and hate at the same time. Maybe she was a character from a book? Maybe she never existed at all.
I'm never quite sure. My mind isn't as mindful as it used to be. Time seems to fly and take memories with it on wings of dreams.
Where did I put those memories? Or were they dreams? Maybe visions?
I'm never quite sure anymore. Everything seems to blend together these days...

Word Vomit

Too tired to write even though I should. Got a head full of too many words, but none are fitting. just images and thoughts. nothing solid, or really coherent.

Porcelain and wrought iron,
Dancing in moonlight that rapidly
fades.
Calling out to an empty ocean.
Moonlit and shallow.
Sunburned and hollow.

The End Complete

The End Complete I-IV

The days continue to stretch into eternity.
I'm still here, watching it all and seeing nothing new.
I continue to wait and wonder what will become of me.
What happened on this road?
What brought me here?
The regrets and accomplishments are deep enough to swim in.
But mostly I just float.
Too apathetic to do much else.
I'd wear it like a crown, but I just don't care enough to do so.

Fingers like dead weight struggle to even pick up a phone.
I still manage to lift all my gear.
A million conversations in my head, but one on the street, the phone, the great outdoors.... just too daunting sometimes.

There's been so many manic mouths, all clamoring, all grabbing, all reaching for the same jagged pieces shaped like a man. And they've always been the same. Different faces all wrapped around the same twisted core.
Or maybe, I'm a flame burning myself out and they just are attracted to the light.
Who can say? Certainly not I.

I still can look at my hands and find lines I throw out against walls.
My desire to live the life I want sometimes overriding my common sense.
My survival instincts.
And still the strings dangle from my fingers.
I own my mistakes, caress them like lovers.
I adopt my regrets. Care for them like children and watch them grow.
And with every year, every day, every breath they grow.

The Final Cut

I want a Love like Dawn.
I want it to burn away the years of GRAY.
I want it to scour everything from my mind, wiping fingerprints from the space that was a heart.
The thumbprint that ground out my heart and soul.
INDELIBLE INK.
Give my SELF back.

"Will they ever measure up?
To the way you left me here by the roadside,
The bloodiest cadaver,
Marked in your words, I'm the joke, I'm the bastard."

I want to give someone EVERYTHING.
I want to be known inside and out.
I want a secret smile again.
I want to not be bitter every time I see people in love.
I want an equal.
I want a partner.
I want, I want, I want.
What else is new?

My number is one.
I will not throw myself into something shiny.
Manic and loud.
Moth like.
What's the new flame?
What's got shiny words, toys, shiny?
I am accepting of my role? My lot? My CHOICE.
I refuse to be bamboozled with yet another waste of time.
Of hope.

I have a Jaelyn now. She loves her Uncle more than anything.
Now, I have at least a quarter of my dream.
And that is more than enough.

Blue Skies, Cool Earth, and Hot Brass.

Staring into the future that's rushing towards me with the velocity of a bullet.
Trying to understand how every step that brings me closer to home seems to carry me further away from family, friends, myself.

How is that even possible? Why can't I look at myself some days?
How could you question that I am a Heartless Bastard?
Truth in advertising.
Now...Where did I put that troublesome muscle?

Why am I not surprised when everything falls apart around my shoulders.
I'm striding out into a cracked wasteland, sword in hand, looking for peace amongst the rubble. It's what I do.

Is something wrong with me? Is something wrong with you? I really wish I knew..
Every attempted step forward is a step... sideways.
My gorge is rising and all my anger is coming back. My serenity has been thrown out the window.

What happens now? Where does it happen? Where do I go from here? What is the right answer? Everything I thought was certain... wasn't. Fuck.

When Old is New Again

When Old is New Again

I just want to write the words,
that would take your breath away.
Tonight, they aren’t coming though.
I just want to write the words;
that would make everything perfect.
Tonight, I don’t know if it’s sand or sadness.
I just want to write the words;
that would propel me into a future that I want.
The road ahead doesn’t seem like a kind one.
I just want to write the words;
that would cement something for me.
Just one solid, dependable thing.
Just one.
Tonight I just want to write the words;
that would explain it all.
But, fear keeps feelings behind locked doors.
As ever.
Tonight I want to write the words;
that will tell me what to think, correctly, and with complete assurance that my mind is leading the rest of me into the correct choices and emotions.
When has that ever happened?