Stay Drunk, Ponyboy….

Another cold, empty winter is fast approaching- I feel it tonight in aging, creaking bones and I can smell it clearly on the winds blowing in hard from the west.  Memories of humid summer Indiana afternoons disintegrated under the blanket of an early darkness falling.  Thoughts of a hopeful spring rejuvenation, growing lush and green and virginal, are nothing but a distant mark in a rapidly crumbling recollection, bullied away by invasively invisible invaders all out on the hunt. And the final kill knows no season. Above me a limp, unimpressive skyline of an increasingly infected and judgemental City of Wayne tries unsuccessfully to hide itself behind the skeletons of trees blown bare from the incessant crawl of an isolated winter’s fatal touch.  Too many punctuating …

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Year 48…

I am not going to write the words. Not this time; not tonight. I am not going to write about the glaring disappointment.  Or the blatantly pointed and tenderizing dishonesty.  Or the near total lack of basic human compassion intentionally withheld for the sake of robbing a pauper’s empty purse of elusive emotion. I refuse to document the transparent, familiar injustices. Not again. I am no longer playing an uncontested part in the deceitful games designed to just fill this passing pandemic’s echoing, wheezing crawl. Because this infection isn’t going anywhere.  At least not for the foreseeably temporary future and as that disparaging truth burrows in deep through the isolated confines of yet another fucking inexcusable quarantine of the heart, I feel the compulsion to ask …

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Targeted Post

*DISCLAIMER:  This post was written with a specific late night transcontinental telephone conversation in mind.  To most casual readers, it will probably read like gibberish.  But I know she will understand.” Back in the depths of a mind diseased with decay, the mouldering pandemonium runs rampant in the shadow of a plague.  The uncertainty suffocates and sequesters, squeezing tight the headache raging inside a freshly infected mind. Time becomes infinitely impotent within the confines of a socially mandated internment.  Empty hours simply squandered as the clock runs dry, leaving precious little room for the drunken thief to successfully steal more. Surrounded by an imperfect darkness, only a temporary security survives.  Soon the sun will rise, setting free the fresh demon of a new day dawning.  Just …

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There’s Revolution in the Air

It was never supposed to be this way. But then, I have been neither eloquent, nor succinct enough, to ever realistically expect anything different. I have instead reached teasingly for lyrical cadences carefully measured to hide behind and designed to build the rhythm to pull out the emotions in a crowd of hesitant confusion, like ripping a festering splinter from an overworked intellect quickly crumbling. I have fought exhaustingly the blankness of the page, mirroring back the blankness of my soul, desperate to write into creation the successful life I was discouragingly unable to find in the outside world, just so that I would have something that I could actually call my own.  Even if it was only for just a few pages more. I have …

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Trinity

I have been fighting the invasive rule of three all fucking night. Three packs of cigarettes neatly stacked, because I knew it was going to be one of those nights- the tickle came early- and I did not want to risk driving out into the world while incapacitated, just to feed the selfish demon of my earliest blatant addiction. Three glasses poured before I could even stomach the idea of sitting down in front of this fucking typewriter. There was already an indication in my head just what kind of post this would devolve into and I needed a few pours of courage before ripping the wound open enough to let these words bleed out into the emptiness of another night stuck here is this mad …

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