Only This, Again.

I will never be what I imagined or dreamed of….

I will never know everything.

I will never touch the moon.

I will not live forever and I still can’t accept this fact or believe it, honestly; even after my body has started to betray me by falling apart.

I have been a hypocrite, an idiot, a thief, a liar, spiteful, condescending, bigoted, biased, cruel, racist, a disappointment AND occasional colossal failure.

I have also been kind, loving, forgiving, patient, courteous, courageous, giving, a joy to be around and an occasionally successful with a task.

I’m just a regular guy, with a regular life, facing normal challenges and inopportune fiascos; doing the best I can, as I can.

I realize that I have unlimited, untapped potential that I know I will NEVER have TIME, in my life, to explore or achieve.

But, I am here, now.

A little sad today, but not too bad…

I’ve learned over the years how to keep those monsters at bay.

Just don’t feed them…

I don’t listen to my mind very much or at least I don’t take its first thoughts seriously…

It’s kinda ignorant…really.

I listen to my heart a little more in my older years but, I know it’s naive to a fault, still….after all it’s put me through.

So, I balance them out, best I can.

I’m just a simple man with regrets and future dreams in the same head & heart I started out with.

A little bruised & dented but, we’re still OK….

It’s not bad to not be perfect.

It’s the effort that counts.

My one saving grace is that I continue to effort the hell out of it.

October 28, 2018 0

Dead Men Tell No Tales

I cannot conceive of people committing suicide.

I am completely and utterly unable to understand WHY someone would take their own life.

It does not compute.

I will give you my very unpopular opinion on suicide, then I will explore it with this blog to try & understand….

1) Suicide is the most selfish act a human can commit.

2) There is NO REASON to kill oneself

3) A person is always in control of themselves. They can change things at any time.

OK, that’s pretty much my opinion on suicide.

Do you know why people hang themselves, shoot themselves, cut their wrist, suck car exhaust or other ways?

To be found, discovered that way.

To hurt, shock, punish; to lash out one last time. A final “Look what you made me do” or “Fuck you”

See me…

I have no concept of suicide.

Admittedly, I do not refrain from killing myself because it is a sin, as much as I was raised to believe, I do not kill myself because I know….have known….all of my life that it is not an option.

I know that it is the cowards way out.

There is no excuse other than painful terminal illness and I’m gray on that.

There is always the next moment. There is always tomorrow. There is always rock bottom.

There is always hope.

Meaning, it can only get so bad. You can sink no lower than rock bottom. If you get any lower, it’s because you dug the hole yourself but, Dammit, there’s still a bottom

You can change things in an instant.

This is a fact.

There are too many avenues these days to get help for suicidal thoughts or intentions.

There is absolutely NO REASON TO KILL ONESELF.

I don’t care how bad your life feels like it’s spiraling out of control and the world would be a better place for it, if you would just hurry up and blow your fucking brains out all over the nice bathroom mirror.

I guarantee the fact that there are millions of other people on this planet that have it much worse; that would kill you to have your life, that would love to have your problems instead of theirs. Would call you blessed…. If even for a moment…they could be you.

There are people that fight for their life every day.

They fight through agonizing pain and the knowledge of unavoidable, inevitable, early death.

They fight until they quit breathing.

And some people kill themselves because life is too hard….?

They can’t see a way out.

There is no hope, they think.

There is no other way, they think.

It’s all about…..Them.

They’re positive.

Oh. My. God.

Fuck your family.

Fuck your friends.

Fuck your co-workers.

Fuck, the world.

My life is too painful.

Everyone will be better off when I’m gone.

I cannot understand this.

It’s stupid.

It’s illogical.

It goes against human nature.

Humans are the only species that commit suicide while every other species on this planet; plant or animal, fight for survival; actual survival, every moment of everyday.

But, your life is too painful to go on living?

Mental illness, you say?

My opinion is that suicide has nothing to do with mental illness.

I’m mentally ill….according to my doctors.

I have been diagnosed with depression, as anti-social and with borderline personality disorder.

Evidently, I am 2 clicks from being a sociopath.

I have the papers to prove it.

I have lived in the gutter.

I was a stereotypical trench coat wearing, brown bag guzzling, sidewalk stumbling drunk.

I was homeless.

I dug thru trash bins behind food joints looking for something to eat.

For a long time, the only money I had was from donating plasma.

I rode city buses for hours; riding for days on end because I felt I had nothing else to do or anywhere to go.

I felt useless. I felt worthless.

I wanted to kill myself.

But, I didn’t.

……I wouldn’t.

It wasn’t an option.

I’m not going to do it.

Anthony Bourdain, did.

I am/was/are a huge fan.

As long as I have his audiobooks, which he narrated himself, his series’ on Netflix, videos on YouTube and many other outlets of which I haven’t discovered yet, I will always be a fan.

He chose to end his life.

From my eyes, A man beloved by millions, a man with a cult following, an excellent TV gig, an employer, a recovered addict, a chef, a father….

Hangs himself in a French hotel room.

Alone.

I cannot understand this.

“I am alone in a room full of people.”

There is only one way out.

It breaks my heart about Anthony.

Here was a guy I actually looked forward to watching his stuff on TV; reading his books, following him on social media.

I have (had) 2 TV heroes that I wholeheartedly believed in 100%; in their honesty, their quirkiness, their irreverence towards “The Man” and no BS attitude.

One is Mike Rowe, the other is/was Anthony Bourdain.

When I saw anything they were involved with, everything they said or posted, I believed. I knew it would be honest and real.

But, I am also a realist.

I do believe that you can never know what’s in someone else’s mind.

You cannot see the monsters.

You cannot hear the voices.

You cannot feel their pain.

As much as I cannot fathom the prospect of killing myself or why anyone would do that to themselves and put their friends, family and colleagues through so much anguish, I understand that I am not that person.

I know that these individuals leave behind people close to them, that love them asking “Why?”

“Why didn’t he call me?”

“Why didn’t he tell me what he was feeling?”

“I would’ve been there in a flash, if I’d ONLY KNOWN”

Anthony Bourdain was not alone in France.

His best friend was nearby.

A hotel full of people, were there.

As far as I know, he still has relatives in France.

All he had to do was say “Help me”

SAY SOMETHING!

It makes me sad for his daughter, whom he claimed to love and cherish.

It makes me sad for his friend Eric; the best friend that found him dead.

It makes me sad for his friends and family that Anthony believed that he had no alternative but to kill himself.

“Why didn’t he just call me?”

It makes me angry that he was so selfish.

He only cared about himself.

No regard or thoughts of what he would leave behind.

No qualms of guilt in how his death would affect others.

No concern on leaving an 11 year old girl to face this cruel world without her dad.

How can I say these mean things about Anthony Bourdain?

I do not, did not, could not know the man or his problems.

What I do know is that he killed himself.

Which means, he did not give a FUCK about anyone else but Anthony Bourdain.

Suicide is real.

Suicide is terrible.

Suicide is selfish.

Suicide is the cowards way out.

There is always hope.

There is always tomorrow.

There is ALWAYS help….

Don’t be an asshole.

Stay alive.

Anthony Bourdain

1956-2018

You cheated us out of you…

Get Help

June 17, 2018 0

The Rut

The hallway was dark.

My cousin was standing in said hallway; in the dark as I related, her head tilted slightly, looking at me with seemingly vacant eyes. No, not vacant….

Horror? No, not horror…..

It was…it was…..I got it.

Her brain was locked up. The blue screen of death look….

That’s usually what happens to dope fiend potheads so I wasn’t too alarmed.

I’m used to her bunch taking a trip and never leave the farm. If you know what I mean….

Anywho, she’s standing there in the dark hall, barefoot on a hardwood floor; vacant stare, tilted head, lips slightly moving.

She was making no sound that I could make out but as I got closer to her, I heard two things; one distinctly….

She raised her hand slowly to ward me off but making the gesture for “hold up”

Her eyes slowly found mine.

The look of a person that has lost their soul….

She made a “shush” gesture and mouthed “oh. MY. GOD!”

I made the silent “What’s up?!” face with accompanying hand and shoulder gestures.

Her finger slid across her throat in a cutting fashion….no, no, she was pointing to a door to my right, my uncles door; her daddy’s.

I followed the finger, looked at the door, didn’t see anything, started to turn back to her then…..I stopped.

I heard something….

What was she hearing? What was I hearing, slight as it was…

She was pointing with more vigor and giving heavier shushing moves….

I leaned toward the door…”W#hat?!” my sneaky shushed silent face said….

Her eyes got wider in that “LISTEN closer” wide look eye thing…

I listened.

I heard it. I knew the sound.

It was sex.

There was sex going down in my uncles room and he is 62 years old and he’s not supposed to have sex because he’s too old and not married plus his pecker shouldn’t have even been working…because he’s you know, OLD. And, he’s my dead dads little brother!!

My face now had the “WTF” look accompanied by the token slow head turn of the truly baffled, while the realization spreading across my face as I turned back towards my cousin who’s dad was a dirty sinner.

Next silent shushed face wide eye question: “Who the hell is in there?!”

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing; then in a silent lip sync moment she said…

“Mama is in there with Daddy” jabbing her finger at the door.

Dirty, dirty old people fuckers, I thought.

I looked at her. She looked at me.

I needed a shower all of a sudden.

Then, It hit me…

These guys have been divorced for like 30 years! They probably ain’t seen each other but a handful of times in that span!

Hell, I didn’t even think they got along! She was here visiting her grandson for the love of all that’s holy!!! OMGODDDDD!

The sounds were getting louder and more intense.

The bed was actually creaking! Just like in the movies! Moaning and groaning, springs squeaking, headboard banging, faster and faster….!

I had to run. I had to get out of there….I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

I was mired in sin…..

OMG; I’m gonna puke.

We were frozen to the spot.

Trapped by the sinful sex romp shadow demons that floated around us….grunting, humping and porking!

“Ugh ugh argh argh, yesss, yesss, oh I got a cramp! Bang bang, fucking creak!!!

Just like in the freaking pornos.

Minus the saxophone….

I don’t remember too much after we heard her saintly mother cry out “punch it, dick ninja!” “It’s getting away!

“I got it!” “I got it, Mamasita!” the dirty Uncle/daddy fucker screamed.

My body ran cold. Her face was ashen.

Her mama…..my uncle,,,,her daddy….were doing the big nasty and liking it!

Can. You. Believe. That. Shit?!

Freaking 62 damn years old and bouncing around on each other with their old person bodies, old man balls, granny panties slung over the bed post, slipping and sliding over each other like two grunting, gasping sumo wrestlers fighting over a corn dog!!

Some people…..

Then…..

It was over.

The noise stopped.

What was said next between the two of them will not be mentioned….

Ever.

Hint: It had something to do with bull riding….

I knew they were dirty fucker people.

I could see it in their eyes.

Here they were….acting like nice old grandparents; kissing babies, cooking supper, drinking sweet tea and sitting by the fire pit and as soon as we turn our freaking backs…..!

BAM!!

They should be ashamed, dirty old people!!

I don’t think I can ever talk to them again or look them in the eyes without seeing Mamasita and Dick Ninja….

54 years old and I have a fresh new scar for my life.

Great. Just what I needed. More trauma.

Thanks, Unc. You dirty old bastard.

My poor cousin.

I think she’s traumatized, bless her heart.

She told her preacher everything; confessed her disgust and shame.

She got baptized a week later.

She sees Jesus in her coffee now.

Check this out, I swear to God! If you can believe this shit;

Mamasita is dating the preacher…..

My therapist told me to write about the dirty old fuckers.

It helped a little. Not as much as the liquor, but it helps.

I wish I could wash out my brain sometimes.

Don’t you?

Dick Ninja? Really….?

June 15, 2018 0

So Simply

Here is my blog entry for today.

I began crying, listening to classical music.

I finally saw it.

I saw the layers.

I was the layers.

I stepped into it.

It washed around me, and I cried.

I cried, listening to classical music.

This has never happened to me.

I can’t believe it. I’m a big stinky truck driver.

Carmina Burana, O Fortuna…..

Thank You.

You are beautiful

Today is another day of discovery.

Never too old.

February 11, 2018 0

Realization

Thought about this last night.

Popped right into my head…

Never mind all of the stuff that’s already in my head; there’s always room for more crazy.

There’s always room for more crazy; like Jell-o or ice cream.

I love Jell-o. Crazy, not so much.

At least I call it crazy.

It could be normal, or crazy.

Isn’t the human mind amazing with all the stuff it can do?

All of the information it can process or forget?

All of the useful things….or Facebook…..Snapchat….Twitter…..

Sometimes I sit there going “C’mon THINK!”

Most times I’m like “I wish my freaking brain would just stop!”

Ok, I’m getting off track from my original thoughts that are the basis for todays blog.

Here’s what popped into my brain @ 0215….

I will die not knowing everything.

If I sat here, or if you sat where you’re at, run a diagnostic on your brains hard drive and create a pie chart of how your brain utilizes or categorizes info.

It is sadly amazing how much I don’t know.

Hmmm….I actually have no idea how much I don’t know.

Although, it seems like the older I get the more “Eureka” moments I have concerning trivial stuff.

“Why have I just figured this out?”

I’m an idiot, I swear.

Like these little “life hacks” or “kitchen hacks” I see on Facebook that leave me slack jawed in utter amazement, wallowing in self loathing, awash in shame.

How do people figure this crap out!?

I know nothing about rocket science.

I know nothing about why I’m scared of the dark.

I know nothing except what I have heard, seen, tasted, felt, smelled or been told by others.

Problem is, the senses…..I can pretty much count on being truthful

“Fire HOT!”

“Woman crazy!”

The basic knowledges…..

Learning stuff from people, I’d say less than 50% accurate.

If they taught me things that doesn’t include their opinions or bias’, the percentage would go up exponentially, I believe.

We know enough to get thru life. Simple Simon….

Here’s a thought; We get old enough to make babies, then get older to teach babies until they get old enough to make their own babies. That’s it.

At a certain point, what purpose do we serve?

As we get older, our bodies and minds start to wind down; this we know.

OMG, I’m never gonna know everything, am I?

How cruel it is to create something, give it a brain that is capable of magic and put a limit on what it can do or learn?

There has to be a reason….

There has to be some kind of reason that we can’t know everything.

I wonder what the world was like when there was no highways, cities, power lines, cars, planes….stuff like that?

All we were concerned about was survival. that’s all we HAD to know.

Hunter, gatherers.

From my viewpoint, it was probably terrifying back then.

But, if we think about it; it may have been much much more quiet in our heads.

I mean, what do you think is in your head right now that has to do with your actual survival compared to back then?

Now, how much isn’t there?

Next time you’re standing in a Walmart or a grocery store, think about digging up a root for dinner or making a cloth out of an animals skin.

Think about discovering how to make fire; on purpose.

Think about discovering how to make a bow & arrow, just the fact that WHY you NEED a bow & arrow in the first place.

What in our brains, is necessary?

If we had the ability to clean the junk files or cookies from our brains, how much disk space would we get back and how much faster could we process info?

I know people have drawn these comparisons before but, it popped into my head this morning and I felt like blogging it out loud.

I’m sad that I won’t know everything before I die.

At least I know that much….

But, I know more today than I did yesterday.

But…..how much info am I losing compared to my gains?

Crap…

I’m gonna stop talking now.

I’m a crazy person. Ignore me.

February 7, 2018 0

Day 2 In Yuma

The title to this days blog kinda sounds like a western novel or movie or something, don’t it?

Uh oh, wayward tangent alert!

Here’s some more “titles” (while I’m increasing my caffeine levels) Yes, I know…I’m a terrible Mormon.

“The Watch” A fast paced movie about minute to minute time travel.

“Coffee Man” A novel about love and survival

“Loading….” A sci-fi mystery about patience and murder.

“Potty Break” Action “packed” cinematic dynamite, edge of your “seat”, “explosive” thriller about letting go…

Ok, I’m gonna stop now, I can see where this is going.

Speaking of potty break…..

BRB

Ok, I’m back. The Potty Break movie had a weak “ending”…..no real substance.

Ok Ok, I’ll stop!

What has gotten in to me so early this Tuesday morning!?

It IS Tuesday, right?

I don’t know what day it is. My phone is off….and I don’t know how to find it on my baby iPad.

Ok, I just figured out that my gps knows what day it is.

It’s Monday Jr?

WTH?!

That can’t be right.

Wayward tangent alert, again….

I just realized that I’ll probably never hold a leadership position in my church because I “may” have used inappropriate language in MANY of my previous blogs.

I kinda cuss when I’m being all emotional and creative….

In my defense, and y’all know this just as much, if not more than me…

Sometimes a dirty word is the only word that can work in certain instances. It takes one to get the EXACT point across: to match the flow of our literary intent….

Or, we (I) couldn’t think of a better word.

In my defense, I only have 33 credit hrs of college. In Texas….

Lets go with the creative juices thing….

Yeah, I’m a Cro-Magnon.

Sometimes I say bad words, think bad things, contemplate mass murder…or is it spree murder?

Hey, you try being a truck driver that goes all over this country, thru tiny towns and big cities and tell me that you don’t feel like running someone off the road!

Good thing is that I can keep fantasy, fantasy. Realistically, speaking….

It’s much more cool in my head; the fantasy part.

I could never kill in real life with the same satisfaction or special effects that I do in my head.

In fantasy dream mode (ok, pretend you’re seeing that daydream thing like they do on tv, with the wavy screen)

Ok, in dream mode, when I kill someone on the interstate (99% of the time its a 4 wheeler; car) there’s lots of screaming, rubber squealing and smoke, metal screeching & crunching, glass shattering and the smell of poop. Oh, and there’s always lots of fire & smoke, blood, guts, people flying thru windshields, the satisfying crunch as my 18 wheeler smashes thru their wrecking cars and over their pavement strewn bodies…..

*shudder in ecstasy*

It puts the lotion on it’s skin….

Thank the holy moly, but in real life, the whole “You’ll not do well in prison” filter keeps me sane.

Plus, I’d probably feel bad later.

Hold up, let me tell Jesus I’m sorry for murder in my heart.

This is my Granny’s fault; all this caring about people and crap.

Social norms…..Not killing fools.

EMPATHY for heck sakes.

Crazy old lady.

She’s the one that took me to church, taught me about Jesus, God and the Holy Ghost!

More importantly, the whole burning in hell thing if I run over people on the interstate, or undress pretty women in my head.

I’d marry them! Don’t be so quick to judge!

I’m a softie but HEY! At least I’m not a sociopath or psychopath , huh?!

That’s good news on this early Monday Jr!

Ok, I gotta go pick up some vegetables and start rolling towards F’n Jersey.

Y’all have an excellent Monday Jr.

TTYT

February 6, 2018 0

New Muse: Learning To Starve and Like It

Day 2 of intermittent fasting; con’t:

Not too bad, so far.
Yesterday, I thought I was gonna die before 1pm came around but, it wasn’t so much that I was hungry or that my tummy was growling.

It was mostly that I just wanted to eat something.

Anything….Babies… Puppies…wood

See what I’m saying? It was the act of chewing that I craved, I guess.

Well, I ate my 1st initial meal yesterday.

It was kinda big, but not too.

I was figuring that I only had 7 hrs of eating to prepare for 16 hrs of nothing so, eat until I popped.

FEED ME, SEYMOUR!

I was wrong.

I tried to eat a couple of Baloney sammitchs’ 2 hrs later, and could only get one down. And it was like rubber. I chewed and chewed until I had to force swallow.

Like a cow…with cud.

I wasn’t hungry, yet.

I thought “Oh crap, I’m gonna starve before tomorrow’s eat time”

But, I soldiered on and swigged a fruit cup for desert. No chewing involved.

And that’s it, until now, 0808 CST and I’m doing OK.

No hunger pangs.

I’m a terrible terrible fat American.

I’ve only had my cup of Java so far. Like I said yesterday, I know Mormons aren’t supposed to drink coffee but in my defense, coffee keeps this trucker from going ape s**T and running 4 wheelers off the road.

It’s a coping tool 😬

I did notice something else yesterday though, just as the last 30 minutes before eat time began. I started getting that low blood sugar feeling.

You know, swirly brain, tingly fingers, slight touch of vertigo…overall, just weird.
So, as I learn, I guess I’ll start my eat time an hour earlier, say noon to 7pm to avoid going into an embarrassing coma or shock.

Here’s a thought…

I wonder if I had beef jerky to chew on, if that’s cheating or would invalidate my efforts. Not swallow the jerky, just the juice?

What think ye?

Only 4 more hrs to go.

Just don’t think about it Trey. It’s OK not to eat all of the time.

It wouldn’t be as tough if I smoked…but,thats one Mormon rule I do adhere to.

I’m such a munch mouth though!
I have a feeling this is gonna save me money on groceries…or future gastric surgery.😷✂️💊⚰️

On to day 3!

January 17, 2018 0

New Muse

I have found my new muse!

My writers block has lifted!

I have decided to focus my recently dormant creative blogging energy toward my fatness and the prominence of said gut….

I have decided that I do not look good as a full figured man.

If you get my point.

I will turn 54 this year and my goal is 185 lbs. Not the 261 I currently am. Oh, btw, that’s from a truck stop scale so it could be + or – 20lbs.

I am pursuing Intermittent Fasting.

No, I’ve only been studying about it for a couple of days and I’m only on day 1.

I will share as I live and learn.

Hey! It’s our journey together!

So, here goes on day 1.

Fat Attack, Engage!

Oooooo No, this is not a New Years resolution.

The toughest part of intermittent fasting (IF), for me, is getting past the mental part. The part that says that I have to eat or munch on something all of the time.

After I thought about it, I discovered that I really only eat breakfast out of habit. I know its considered the most important meal of the day but, I hardly ever wake up hungry anyways. All I usually want is coffee in the morning, anywho. I know, I know, I’m a terrible Mormon. If that’s my only failing today, I’m good.

So, I’m on my first day of IF and I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon and I’m still not hungry. The biggest obstacle is not to munch just to munch. Kinda like, if I smoked, I guess. Smoking a cigarette just to smoke. But, since I don’t smoke, I munch….then get fat.

It’s gonna be kinda tough with me being a truck driver, since my schedules are always jacked up and hard to stay consistent with anything. I figure though that if I keep the general time frame intact, I should be good. Of course the body acts different at night than during the day, blah blah blah.

Lot’s of interesting, common sense stuff with IF. Y’all read up on it. I’ll keep you up to date on how it’s going with me. Here’s how I’m starting out:

1) No Breakfast (liquids are fine. Water, coffee, tea, etc., easy on the sweeteners; calories bad)

2) Eat normally but wisely between 1-8pm

3) Fast for 16 hrs or until the next day eating period.

Retrain in the membrane!

Thanks to-https://jamesclear.com/the-beginners-guide-to-intermittent-fasting

January 17, 2018 1

The Dying Rain

The rain began to patter on the window that looked out over my best friend’s small garden.

I was holding her frail hand, the one with her “green thumb”.

I smile at this…

She always giggled when she told me that she could kill a plastic plant…

I’ve seen it happen.

But now her eyes were closed, her breath labored.

….. today was a good day for her, considering everything….

She may have been asleep but, her fingers gripped mine as hard as she could squeeze.

I could barely tell I was holding her hand at all, as weak as she was.

It’s so painful, beyond belief really, to try and imagine strength draining away from the strongest person you have ever known.

….like sand in an hourglass.

I laced my fingers thru hers, gripping them a little harder, tracing the veins on the back of her hand with my other fingers.

I can’t believe I’m losing her….

My bestest friend in the whole world is dying………Dying!

She did it to herself….

[RUMBLE]

I can hear the thunder in the distance, the rain coming and going, the branches of the trees scraping lightly across the panes of glass

In the storm graying light of the small bedroom I turn back into time to think of our lives together.

I have done this more than usual lately….

Six months…..seems like yesterday.

Too fast…

…..Way too damn fast.

Doesn’t it seem weird that when you are about to lose someone close to your heart, a piece of your very soul, that we start to reflect on our memories of them more, as if though trying to burn them deeper into our hearts and minds….

It’s as if though we are afraid that we might forget something important….forget them?

I remember when she was sober.

I look at her face as she sleeps….

She’s so beautiful……..even now.

My flower is fading….

The sun is leaving her eyes.

The rain reminds me that I must not cry……

Cloud tears trickle down, the beads of sky diamonds ornament her window…..

I won’t weep…..she did it to herself; selfish bitch.

I’m not going to cry…not now at least.

She gets upset when I cry.

I sit there, holding my friends tiny hand, staring out the jeweled window as the storm drums the shutters.

The lightning is bright, the thunder is closer….the rain, more insistent…..

I can smell the trees.

I begin the stroll down our memory lane; it isn’t raining here.

There is only laughter, joy and our high school prom.

There is only skinned knees, gum in our hair and boyfriends we shared

[RUMBLE]

I am brought back from my breaking heart to the bedside when I feel her stir under the blankets….

The thunder moves her.

Her eyes are open and I follow my dying friends hooded gaze.

She’s looking out the window, watching the storm.

Shadows of the window panes, rain drops and lightning dance across her face…..

She is quiet….

Dying sober, thank God….

Oh so still…..

God? Where is God now?

I notice a small tear is running down her pale cheek and across her dry lips…

She did it all to herself.

I hate her.

I reach up and wipe the tear away with my finger.

All of a sudden, I feel guilty that I’m alive.

She grabs my hand and presses it to her lips and then drops my hand with a tired sigh.

She turns her face toward me….

I raise my finger to my lips and kiss what’s left of her tear….

She gives me that shy grin of hers and turns back to the storm.

“Will you do me a favor?” she asks in her beautiful, weak voice; the stormy sky reflecting in her dimming, pretty eyes.

“I don’t know” I say “I’m kinda busy” I grin.

(I hate you for dying)

She squeezes my hand again before turning to look at me, her gaze imploring.

“I’m serious” She says.

My face softens, I will not cry….

(You did this to yourself)

“You bet” I whisper, both my hands pressing hers to show my promise.

I can’t squeeze her hand too hard…..

She lives very close to pain that I can’t imagine.

This could have been avoided.

So easy…

She turns her face back toward the window as the rain dances across the roof, the thunder making the panes tremble….

She says “Think of me when it rains….”

I cannot cry in front of her….

I will not….I won’t!

My best friend in life is slipping away like a dream, like water thru my fingers….

“I hope it rains forever” I say….

Her eyes are closed now…

Her fingers relax in mine….

“It doesn’t hurt anymore…” she whispers.

I thank God for this small answer to my anguished prayers….and I curse him.

“No…don’t go…” I say

I feel like an asshole for being alive.

I never thought that would be the last thing she would hear from my lips.

No God….not her….

Not my friend…..

(I HATE YOU!)

Take me instead, I’ll go. I’ll go right now!

She…..

She dropped my hand.

Her heart has finished its toil.

I can’t breathe….I gotta get out of here….I…….can’t…..breathe….Oh my God! Oh my God!!!

She has gone from me into the storm….

She lives where lightning is born….

Our joined lives continue as memory….

I guess I can cry now….

But, I think it still upsets her…no matter.

I will dance in the rain with the memory of my friend, and we will laugh…

I rejoice in the fact that as long as I live, she will be there with me.

SOBER

She will watch our children grow.

SOBER

She will watch our children become best friends.

SOBER

It is time for me to weep for my lovely…

I thank God for Heaven and eternal life….

Oh my God, why is it so hard to breathe when I think of her?

I can already hear her voice in my head…

“Cry baby”

I smile….

It’s true….

She’s here…..right now.

SOBER

She is alive in the thunder and rain.

I will think of her….

(Why….?)

January 26, 2017 0

Spread My Filth!!!

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Spread My Filth!!!

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