Smoke Flowers

You set fire to me,
so that I can bloom and grow.
You nourish me with your exhales,
and face me toward your red glow.

When you look away I wither,
I mold and lose my charm.
Light up your violet stem,
your thorn does me no harm

Your ivy eyes contained me,
so now you burn across my skin.
The embers hanging from your lips
give truth to the fire within.

Your smoke rings glide across my body,
puffed petals discharged to caress my face.
Our loving flower begins to perish,
not keeping up with this lavender race.

Nutrients you no longer offer
makes for a frozen, nicotine season.
My smile is turned just like the soil
because you wilted with green reason.


*** *** ***

I don't believe it to be fatalistic, because it is just natural truth. My dear friend Gwen summarizes it nicely with: "born to blossom, bloom to perish". We spread ourselves out for all our glory, only to begin to shrink.

In The Kitchen

Tonight I made pizza. I cried the whole time I was doing it.

The last time I made pizza, I was still living in Grand Rapids. I was still living with the pup. I was still living with my boys. Before starting to write tonight I checked to see if I had mentioned it at all on here, and I did. It was November 16th 2009. I stopped at a Meijer on the way home from night class to pick up ingredients. I was taking night classes then because I had a morning job and an afternoon job, so I went to class in the evening. Clearly my time was occupied, but I missed my boys and I wanted to do something nice for them. When I got home that night two of them were on the couch playing video games, one was upstairs in his room studying medical books, and I'm pretty sure the last one was chasing girls. I began to cook and chop and assemble, the pup sat eagerly in the kitchen watching me; silently willing me to drop something to the floor so she could lap it up. It didn't take long for the two playing video games to make their way into the kitchen to see what I was making. And it didn't take long for them to claim a seat in the kitchen nook, silently willing me to drop a plate of pizza in front of them. Eventually the one that was upstairs studying came down too, entering the kitchen in a hoodie and moccasins, exclaiming that the whole house smelled of onions and wanting to know why. By the time the pizzas were out of the oven all four of us were sitting in the kitchen nook talking and telling each other what was going on in our lives( I made sure there were left overs for the one chasing girls). It felt so good. It was a perfect moment, in my life. I loved those boys, I loved that house, I loved that dog, I loved the life I had then. I will forever, until the day God puts me down, refer to them as my boys. Because that's how I saw them, I claimed them, whether they wanted it or not, and I did everything I could to keep it all together. After it fell apart, I vowed to myself to never lay claim on a guy again. And I haven't.

That was the first time I left Grand Rapids, after the second time I left Grand Rapids I vowed to never make plans for the future, and I still haven't. Since coming back to Illinois, post fleeing in the middle of the night, I haven't made any plans on what to do with my life in the future. After having everything I had made, after the life that I had built and suffered for, taken and broken so quickly I don't have the energy to try and assemble something again. What happens now, is I do whatever is in front of me. I do and/or perform so I can collect a paycheck. But something inside of me wanted to make a pizza. So I planned on making a pizza for my parents. Then my day got shot to shit when I was called my job #2 and asked why I was 80 minutes late for my shift. So my dinner plans got ruined. My baby steps got gunned down right in front of me. For the record, it was a scheduling error on job #2's fault, not mine. But the point is, I didn't get to make the pizza dinner I had planned. I didn't get to feel like an actual human, who does actual human things, and who makes actual human plans. Instead I went to work. When I got home, I still wanted to make it though. So, at ten thirty six at night, with my dad sitting across the counter watching me, I began to make a pizza in the kitchen. About five minutes in, while beginning to dice the olives, I began to cry. I began to cry, but I still made the pizza. I stood there chopping, while tears rolled down my cheeks. I cried for having to leave my life in Grand Rapids, I hadn't done that yet. I cried for the fact that I won't see the pup ever again. That gorgeous, smart and wonderful mutt who meant so much to us all. I cried because I won't see my boys ever again. And I cried because I miss them everyday; not all day, but at least once a day I have the pang of knowing everything has passed. I cried because of how silly it is that one person, one tiny, minute person, can ruin my whole world. One person wanted me dead, wanted me gone, and now everything seems topsy turvy because of it. My approach was not to dwell on it, to count my blessings and be glad I was alive; that July afternoon could have gone drastically different, I know that. But I didn't let myself acknowledge the fact that I was so pissed. I was holding it together, right up until I was making a pizza in the kitchen of my parents condo. Somewhere between the red gravy and the fresh oregano I broke open. My dad was actually really good about. When I first started we began to get up from the stool to come and comfort me, but I signaled for him to sit back down. I didn't need to be consoled, everyone had been doing that since I moved back, what I needed was to just fucking cry. So he sat and listened while I told him about the last time I had made pizza, how it was a perfect symbol of the life I once had. He let me tell him how everything was so screwed up, while I spread the dough in the pan. In between sobs I explained how it didn't seem right that one person could topple the entire structure I had made. And then, after I had put them both in the oven, he began to clean up the kitchen and I went to my bathroom and Stridexed my face. A nasty side effect of emotions is break outs, and I hate those. While I was patting down my cheeks, I thought about how wonderful it would be if I could just sizzle my anger away. It would be brilliant if I could just dump it into a bowl and put it on the bottom rack of the oven and burn it into a charred oblivion. But, that's not how it works.

The pizza was perfect. The time I shared it with my boys, and again tonight. The first night was almost two years ago exactly, and yet perfect pizza was still perfect pizza. I will never have my Grand Rapids life again, that perfection is lost forever; but I am beginning to believe that some new form of perfection can be found. If I made it once, I can make it again.

*** *** ***

"Still, there is this sense of missed opportunity. Maybe there is nothing, ever, that can equal the recollection of having been young together. Maybe its as simple as that. Richard was the person Clarissa loved at her most optimistic moment." -M. Cunningham in The Hours. (My most favorite author, and my most favorite book.)

Go Hide, Me. Go, Hide Me.

Silence me with your tongue.
Blot me out with your body.
Blur the outline of my being with your hoodie and your denim.
Capture me into your existence.

I will go willingly, into you.
Your smell kills of my doubts.
Your hands know how to make me cry, and how to make me cum.
I shackle my heart to yours.

I like you because you understand me,
but I love you because you make me invisible.
No one can hurt me if all they see is you lying on the couch.
I won't hear anything but your heart if I'm hidden underneath.

When you stretch yourself over me, I'm just your extra rib.
I can be completely unseen if I stand close enough to you.
If I kiss you long enough, you will just absorb me.
Take me from what I have created, and put me into you.


"If I raise my voice will someone get hurt
And if I can't feel then I won't get touched" -Garbage

The Stongest Lungs

I say it to the guy who can cover my shift. I say to the girl who surprises me with a venti instead of a grande. I say it when I leave a room. A building. A state. I say it to the tv. My favorite book. My most worn jeans. Even my biker boots.

I whisper it to the countless men in my bed. I gasp it in between kisses with strangers. I murmur it as they walk out the door. Out my room. Out my life. I scream it at guys who speed past on motorcycles. I hint at it to get a cocktail.

I imagine saying it on a beach. I envision telling it to my children. I wait to tell my dog. I hope it to be my last phrase on Earth.

For now, and for ever, I say it to you; but not nearly enough. You my other half, my better part, my soul mate, my most wonderful companion. For you I will always have breath to say these words:

I love you more then all the men, jimmy john sammichs and cigarettes I've ever had, combined and multiplied by infinity. I miss you so much my skin gets rough from not getting your hugs and my eyes get blurry from not seeing your face. I love you.

My lungs are durable from tireless runs, long walks and my endless ramblings; but for you, they will never collapse, for you they remain strong.

I love you.



**** **** ****

This one is not for a man. No man is worthy of this. This is for the greatest, strongest, most beautiful woman I know. Who I call my best friend. And who I miss everyday, all day.

"Did you say it? I love you. I don't ever want to live without you. You changed my life. Did you say it? Make a plan, set a goal, work toward it. But every now and then, look around, drink it in, cause this is it. It might all be gone tomorrow." -M. Grey

Domesticated

You've got me chained to a white picket fence.
The front yard covered in cut grass and cigarette corpses.
The collar comes so naturally but your lead is unappreciated.
What was once worn out from use, now rusts from lack of joyful abuse.

The tie you propose doesn't choke like the leather.
Can I cook your dinner in my bomber jacket?
If the fresh cake has black frosting do you not like the taste?
I serve up the red delicious apple pie, even with the black liner carving my eye.

For you I scrub the kitchen floor while in my biker boots.
For you I set the table with silver to match my ears.
For you I polish the China with my midnight fingernails.
For you I cover my ink with ironed polo, and a matching belt.

What once burned out and free, the roaming fire of my ego.
You took it in, brought up the hem and pricked me with the needle.
The slamming domination that was shared has now become domestication.
A rebel aggression we made and bore, is a placid still photograph of yore.

I can clean away every piece of broken dirt in this the house we share.
I can greet you at the door with smiles and skin laid bare.
I can suture up all your internal wounds and each external tear.
I can make everything around you glisten, but still I'm your unequal pair.


*** *** ***

Once again, this one is for my book. And who knew I was such a secret fan of Angelina Jolie? I'm surprised lately how often I like her. What isn't surprising is how much I like Josh Beech.

"The truth is I love being alive. And I love feeling free. So if I can't have those things then I feel like a caged animal and I'd rather not be in a cage. I'd rather be dead. And it's real simple. And I think it's not that uncommon." -Angie Jolie

Rib Cages and Cigarettes

I'm singing on the inside, because my voice doesn't carry.
I'm running my hands over your back to feel the vibrations.
Your body is humming with a tragic passion.
Lower your kingdom on to me, your nicotine words on my neck.

Just because we're doomed doesn't mean we can't be doomed together.
Lay down in the snow with me and it'll wash us clean.
You count my ribs and I'll count your scars,
Stick with me baby and we'll go far.

You're clapping for my body, because I stand and get bare.
You're pushing on my muscles so they mold to your curves.
My body is filling with a deadly beauty.
Grind your soul into mine, your fingers poised on my lips.

Just because we're doomed doesn't mean we can't be doomed together.
Lay down in the sheets with me and it'll wash us clean.
You count my ribs and I'll count your scars,
Stick with me baby and we'll go far.

We're clawing for new oxygen, because we sizzled our atmosphere.
We're crumpling into reality again as the snowflakes burn outside.
Our bodies sewn together by the furious exchange.
Etch into the surface of my blood, your sleepy eyes on my heart.

Just because we're done doesn't mean we can't be quiet together.
Lay down in the past with me and it'll keep us clean.
You count my ribs and I'll count your scars,
Stick with me baby and we'll go far.


*** *** ***


I'm keeping this one. I want it for the book. I don't think it would transfer well to lyrics.

"They tell me I'm skinny, as if that's supposed to make me happy." -Angelina Jolie

Sin For Me

Sin For Me


Could you shoot me, please stop being nice to me.
I need you to be mean.
Take your love gun and fire now, because I need
to be put down. Your wonderful heart has ruined me.

Will you please just sin for me,
I need to feel your wrath.
Be greedy and save yourself,
or else I’ll devour your past.
Take pride and hide your trust,
few can out run my lust.

Could you batter me, please stop being soft to me.
I need you to be crude.
Take your smile and take a bow, because I need
to be blacked out. Your merciful face has scarred me.

Will you please just sin for me,
I need to feel your wrath.
Be greedy and save yourself,
or else I’ll devour your past.
Take pride and hide your trust,
few can out run my lust.

I’m sorry I can’t control my gluttonous appetite for your body. My envy blinds what I see. It doesn’t qualify for love if it’s only one sided, then it’s just a sin. Why can’t you sin for me?

Will you please just sin for me,
I need to feel your wrath.
Be greedy and save yourself,
or else I’ll devour your past.
Tale pride and hide your trust,
few can out run my lust.


This is a song that has been sitting on my heart for quite a while. I really long fucking while actually. I just sent it to my cousin, she's a recording artist. So I hope since it's no longer on my heart, soon it won't be on my brain either. But I'm not holding my breath. If you're asking why I didn't include "Sloth" in the lyrics, it's because it is included. If you read it enough you'll find it in there. I was the sloth, I should have never dragged it out so long. I should have walked away right when I knew. But we all fuck up, right? Besides, it makes for great music. I hope you hear this one on the radio, my rubber band boy.

"it doesn't qualify for love if it's only one sided, then it's just a sin. why can't you sin for me?" -Me

The Rules of More

Once upon a blog, I wrote about several rules that I wanted to try and live my life by. Well, those for the most part are still in play. But I do want to add some new things I've learned. And I'm going to confess to what I don't really follow any longer. The whole 'only meat from the ocean' bit, yeah, that's not happening. I'm an Italian! Somedays I need a good roast beef. Sometimes the only thing that can keep me from laying down on the highway is stuffed shells in a meat filled red gravy. Now, I am more then aware of the unhealthy side effects of eating meat that is ill prepared and full of preservatives and fillers. And the human body doesn't need to rely on animals as much as the American general public would have you believe. But, sometimes, I just need a fucking burger. Y'know?! Anyways.I still try to avoid fast food in general, and I am very strict about my dessert intake. I have reinvented my fashion more then one time, and when I wrote the first set of rules I was only wearing black, gray, white, and red. That is not the case any longer. Now it's black, gray, and cool colors only. I've also given up on skinny denim and displaying as much as possible. I sorta wrap myself up like a present these days; hiding instead of revealing. I'll leave the skin for the bedroom. I think the biggest downfall is not following my one drink a day rule. I think I'll try to reinstate that one once I'm a father, for now though, I'll meet you at the bar. Which brings me to my first new commandment:

Always make friends with the bartender.

This will get you much farther in life and most likely keep more money in your pocket. In my experience, it pays to have patience while bellying up for booze. Remember that the person on the other side is just making a living and probably would rather be on the other side, like you are, with their own friends. So, for the love of all that is vodka, cut them some slack. Show a smile, use your manners and treat them like an old college friend that your happy to spend time with again. Who knows how to make a double stiff whip and cran, five times, but only charge you for two. You'll be happier, they'll be happier, and your wallet will be happier. Which brings me to new commandment number two:

Make as much money as possible.

I don't care how. I don't care when. I don't care what you have to do to get it. Just. Make. Money. Don't be greedy, don't be cruel; do be eager, and do be ambitious. Like the hyper ambitious material girl herself. Be bold. Be active. Be driven. And be any other adjective that this seasons fragrance industry has chosen to convince you you are. My favorite is from a fictitious beauty creme ad from a Sharon Stone movie, it goes a little something like this: Be more.

I'm trying to be more, are you?


The New Rules:

-say no to fast food
-four desserts a month
-the three date rule
-the first date rule
-the no bullshit rule
-work out everyday, somehow
-keep a calendar, stick to it, follow it
-create a budget, stick to it, follow it
-make your fashion, and stay loyal
-read more
-befriend the bartender
-make as much money as possible


"I'm tough, I'm ambitious, and I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay." -Madonna

SuckerPunch My Anger

Right. So. It's been almost a year since I've done a proper post on here. The most recent ones don't really count. Those were just records, something to be filed away, certainly not the point of this little thing. I remember when I would sacrifice sleep and creature comforts in order to post one at least every week or so. I guess I had a little more free time back then. It's not like I don't have things to talk about these days. Obviously I do. But my whole brain has kinda shifted and entered a new mindset. I hadn't even realized it until recently. I use to be a much more open person. Open with emotion, open to the idea of love, open to opportunities and open to life itself. I think that has all been knocked out of me. I am much more grounded and realistic (on the border of cynical) then ever, if that's even possible. The only thing that I believe in anymore is the concept that one day I will, again, have a bedroom of my own. Decorated, cleaned and designed by me. Whether it be in a shared apartment, house or loft. Or, God willing, a place of my own. I still get so angry about what happened and how I ended up sleeping on a air mattress in my parents condo, none of it was really due to my bad habits. It's not like I irresponsible or stupid or unwise with money or my health. It was a total outside force. Some random acts of violence, and boom! Nothing is like what it use to be. Now, I had made up my mind to move back to Chicago once my current lease was up, but I hadn't told anyone but my Ma. So she told me that I just got to come back quicker. Yes, true. I could be in worse situations. Or I could be dead. So all in all, I'm doing alright.

I try to channel the constant and daily anger I feel into something more productive. Like how to get ahead at my two jobs, that I am wildly overqualified for. Or how to train harder and push myself longer at the combat style exercises I do these days. Or I let it fuel my imagination, instead of getting angry at what's around me. Part of how my brain works these days is by not sweating the small stuff. My tattoo explains it all. As long as I have a place to sleep and food to eat at the end of the day, I'm happy. Eventually I'll build something for myself again, better and more secure this time. I know I can do that. I just have to keep fighting for it. Life sorta sucker punched me, knocked me to the floor with blood in my mouth, but it didn't kill me. So, I'll grab a weapon and start fighting for what I believe in. For what I want.

I am a little more closed off and harder then I use to be. A little more protective and cautious. Not so eager to make a mistake, just so I can learn a lesson. I've learned quite a lot over the last three years, and now I am back on the dog track I grew up on. Ready to show what I got and fight for what I want to get. Who knows, it might even be fun.


"You have all the weapons you need, now fight!" -Sweet Pea

My Farewell Note

If you were able to read my last post, then you know what's been going on. The most recent update is that my house in Grand Rapids was broken into, vandalized and myself and my roommates were robbed. This, coupled with the earlier threat on my life, has made me leave Grand Rapids. I think my time in that city has come to an end, although it is abrupt and unfortunate, it seems to be clear. I left in the middle of night, a few hours after the break in, so please forgive me for not getting to say goodbye to any of you. I miss you all so much, and will stay in touch as best I can. Right now my mind is overwhelmed with all the recent, terrible images and scenes of what has happened lately; but I will work through this so that I can eventually remember all the good times I had in that city. My first house on woodlawn. Walking to the village for burgers at the Derby Station, or ice cream at the junction. Meijer trips at all hours of the night. My time living with "my guys" on the northeast side. Walking downtown to go dancing and drinking. The great restaurants on cherry street. All the wonderful friends I made. All the great people I met. I'm going to miss it, you, everything so much. I had some amazing times in Grand Rapids, and I learned and grew a lot from everything that happened. So, as a favor to me, lock your doors and take care of yourselves. I will love/miss you all. Farewell Grand Rapids.

Love,
me

For the Record

I'm writing this so there is some form of a public file that states what has been going on. Since the police station was of no use or help to me, this is the closest thing I can get to a public record. So what I'm about to type is completely true and here in case anything should happen. This morning, July 7th, I was awaken at around 330 am in the morning to the sound of banging and yelling. The banging was on my bedroom window, I'm on the first floor of the house I currently live at, and the yelling was also directed towards me. The persons responsible for these actions were my neighbor and one of his friends. They were obviously drunk, and highly dangerous. They were banging on my window and yelling threats at me. Things that are vulgar and offensive and not worth repeating here. The thing that is worth repeating is the fact that they made reference to knowing where I sleep and where I am. They repeated the phrase "two days, two days" which I took as a threat upon my life. As in "two days until we try to kill you" or "two days until we do some kind of harm to your body". The specifics can vary. The point is, I felt/feel threatened for my life. I did not call the police because I knew that as soon as the cop car left, I would be on my own and have pissed them off even more. It's not like the cops were going to assign me a sentry or a guard. So I made up my mind to not call and to just go to the police station later that morning and report the incident. After they stood outside my window for about twenty minutes they began to argue with one another, it turned violent. I heard one choke out the other. These guys are not to be taken lightly. They are both military, one Marine the other Army, tall and probably trained to kill. The reason that they have chosen me for a target was because I tried to stop the party they were having on my porch the evening of July fourth. They know one of the girls I share my house with and were drunk that night as well and making a lot of noise. When I told them to take the party elsewhere that night, they threatened me then. I didn't think anything of it because I was use to hearing that sort of thing when you tell a drunk person a party is done with. But what happened this morning was unprovoked and directly towards me and my life. The police were of no help because they said as long as they were invited to the house by my housemate, they can not be removed. And they did not understand my reasoning as to why I didn't call when they were directly outside my window. I didn't file a report while I was there either because there would have been an investigative follow up with my neighbors, and the whole point of what I'm trying to accomplish is for them to not know I'm the one who got the police involved. The only thing the police could offer me was that "I try to move to another house". Clearly I am frustrated. I can either move or get a restraining order, but a piece of paper won't stop them from coming after me. So as for right now I've packed a bag and am staying with friends. I'm not sure what my next move will be or what I should do. The point of this is to just have some kind of time stamped record in case anything else should occur. I love my family and my friends. And if you have any suggestions or ideas, please contact me. Thank you.