Sunshine Highway

One more time through that fucking door. It’s heavier than ever but maybe that’s because I finally know the weight of all the waste and damage left behind. The broken smiles and hearts in both directions, and only the fucking Gods know what the real goal was. It’s a slog ahead in the best of circumstances, and whether or not it means anything in the end I guess rests on something everyone has to figure out in their own time. Wish I was faster, or maybe slowed down a bit…hell, my fucking stories aren’t even what I thought they were anymore. When you’re the hand that twists the rope into a nkkse, even if someone was dangling it there with subtle suggestions that you might feel like you’re flying…still your hand that did it. So to everyone the helped and cared, thank you. For all the shit that I didn’t and still don’t get that had some kindness or humanity behind it that I ignored or didn’t see…thank you for your patience. For the mercenary fucks that twisted out the last strands of anguish or chuckle at the wounds of another, I’ve done it myself, and it’s still fucking horrible. To the ones I can’t or will never be able to speak with again, you have no idea how badly I feel about what’s gone on. To the kids I left behind in my selfish and narrow world. I will always regret my choices and love you more than you can imagine. Fuck it all… last time.

Night Tan Under the Supermoon

Layer a white cold blaze

in circular pool


where the reflection of day

carries to the infinite

teeming void.

Shadowscape of eternity

ever beyond 

incandescent blue skies,

milky clouds,

beyond sun-blinded sight,

always sitting.

Wonderland of possibilities

bending even science

to use imagination.

Endlessly faltering

towards an unknowable end.

The Gods baubles

spin deftly

through the deepest darks

of cavernous black gone noir.

Never bound,

never stuck,

not clasped tight inside

of opulent bondage 

as we marching mortals

on our madhouse Earth.

Into that idea –

that dizzy concept which

forged new words

to try and constrain

something so terribly VAST –

where all is birthed

through cataclysm,

fiery destruction,

demises so profound

dust from their corpses span eons,

rages as a furnace

crafts awakening

in billions of new forms.

Peace is found

within mirrored 

microcosm eyes

of any

who would choose to pray,

take silent reverie

in joyful awe,

of beauty without boundaries,

and their own

immeasurable nothingness.