Uninvited.

That isn’t how it was supposed to go. You can’t just walk into my life through a dream and let go. I don’t have nightmare to replace you. There are times you show your face again. Shame on you for having thin skin that bruises at the slightest act of truth. I’ll never understand fully…

Run.

There’s a trap door down the stone path that leads to another rock bottom, or two. My millionth run isn’t meant for you. There’s a lady on the couch in this drunken dream of mine, sipping on the koolaide just to be confined. We wonder where we’ve gone to on this road to the inhumane,…

Move, Child! | Automatic Transcription.

You shouldn’t throw those words around like flaming lips in a one man show. As if you were the only one with the dagger. Ha! I say, as my mind scours the range for someone to mean their twisted truths, for someone to fall at my feet begging for a forgiving heart left bleeding between…

RISE.

We should have traveled while we had the chance, sipping on wine of the steadfast and dancing from here to there, where mountain ranges rose from the West to show us what it means to endure and where seas erode our minds in the East to show us the impermanence of it all. The rise…

Yet, I Do.

There isn’t anything in the Bible that says I have to miss you, yet, I do. I don’t know why this happens so abrubtly at times when I find my head hanging out the window like some dog in heat trying to feel relief from the wind that I only wish would sweep us away….

Cadence, Chapter 4 | Good Vibrations

Like the young, artistic and budding alcoholic that I was, I finally found my tribe amongst the inebriated ideals of the dreamers, the doers, the back breakers and shakers and makers, the misunderstood, the outcasts and odd balls, the black sheep and square pegs, the vibrant cheerleaders that always said what they meant with an eccentric flair, the thirsty souls and hungry minds, the saddle tramps and pioneers, the esoteric existentialists and flaming liberals, out-of-the-box thinkers and the daytime drinkers, the philosophers of form and function, the dirty birds and slick tongues, the captains of the subjective vs. objective, and the dj’s turning beats in the melting pot of our very own version of creative genius.