"Pain is better than any knid of love" |
A women told me that in a song once. Growing older I start to believe it as much as I would rather not. I don't feel like a 25 year old should, or, atleast I don't think I do. Lost in another new city...
Posted by on Tue, 17 Apr 2007 06:16:00 GMT |
She must be a Prostitute |
Why? Becuase it was love at first sight. She had hair like Sid Vicious, black boots and braces, I seen her at the club and I knew it was love. Knowing my luck of course she either is phisicaly unaviab...
Posted by on Mon, 22 Jan 2007 23:01:00 GMT |
C.B. |
I guess I really am just like old Chuck. In jr. high I had a teacher that thought I was gonna be the next Fitzgerled. He was my english teacher. He musta never read a single thing that I wrote becuase...
Posted by on Tue, 05 Dec 2006 01:41:00 GMT |
This same fucking room. |
2400 Hundred miles later, 3 Treatment centers later, 5 mental hospitals, and 50 cartons of ciggerettes later. I find myself sitting in the same motel room I was in ten months ago. Three overdoses late...
Posted by on Thu, 17 Aug 2006 23:13:00 GMT |
GOD |
Skin as pale as cocaine windows to a soul reveal nothing more than last breaths, an hourglass ready to expire.
A rope cinches tighter around my neck, and all I feel is the smoothness of the rope. Sli...
Posted by on Wed, 31 May 2006 17:57:00 GMT |
This dance is getting old |
Out on the street, the dance is growing painful. Everyday they all do the same thing, steal it sell it, return it, whatever the boost calls for. A bag full of new movies DVD's to be exact. A few stole...
Posted by on Fri, 16 Dec 2005 14:02:00 GMT |
dance me into insanity |
There are shadows behind the leaves on that bush.
As they dance they remind me of the beauty that lurks just beneath pain.
Their rythem is just like the ache that once lived in my bones. A rythem of c...
Posted by on Sun, 04 Dec 2005 03:01:00 GMT |
The sun warms sick bones |
Down the hall our friend goes he keeps his eyes fixed foward, fearing what he may see if he diverted his eyes from his target at the end of the hall. This building is run by every kind of lowlife on t...
Posted by on Sat, 19 Nov 2005 20:16:00 GMT |
home now |
He is home now, his social worker has just informed him that he is HIV possitive. That comes as no suprise to him. A ciggerette is hanging on the side of the nightstand two small strings of smok...
Posted by on Wed, 16 Nov 2005 15:30:00 GMT |
Inching ahead |
The line has made its way near the entry of the 3rd ave. clinic. The sun is beating down on the back of his pale neck. He clutches at his bottle of O.J. in the left pocket of his sunbleached dickies c...
Posted by on Tue, 15 Nov 2005 16:32:00 GMT |
