The Song You Hear –

 “The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye, the story of love is hello and goodbye…until we meet again” ― Jimi Hendrix
natalul
You were ice and unmoved
by romance and its normal tune
You wanted desperation’s plea
and a new way for you to be
Tunes won’t be tamed by what you know
or by the memories that we tow
Listen and understand to see what’s real
has nothing to do with what you feel
I have shit that cuts and wounds
you endured that shit evidenced by tunes
I am hardly me and you won’t feel the glow
That this hardened me will never show
The song he’s singing is a different rhyme
The love I feel is worth more than timeLov3 m3 

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

Stepping in It –

“There’s no point stepping up to the golden platform if you’re going to repeat yourself.” 
abaltimoreblock

I stepped in it again. Tried that fancy “side-step-catch-myself-before-I-put-my-foot-in-it” move, but to no avail. That’s just the beginning. I know it stinks. I don’t even have to smell it, I know from experience. The thing is, I didn’t see it. I thought I was looking out for it, but sure enough, “squish”. There it is. All up in my stuff. Regardless of my intentions before hand, I’ve but one goal now, get it off! Some relationships are like that. I know I had my guard up, I was well defended. Then, squish! Right between my emotional toes and I find myself in a big stinky mess. What do I do? I wash it off! I don’t wallow in it, spreading the foul mess all over my life, I get rid of the smelly crap! The longer I stand in the crap, the more likely I’m gonna spread it all over and then I’ll really have a job of cleaning it up. Yes it sucks. Never mind figuring out the how and why of my stinky step, I need to just get out of it, clean myself off and move on from that spot. I know it’ll stink, even if I’m clean, just by standing next to the mess, so pick up, clean up, and move on.

10/30/2011

 

The Uncool One – Struggling with an addict

You know me, I’m the “uncool” one, the “buzz kill” because I tell you to stop drinking and drugging. I tell you I can’t go out because I have to work the next day. I’m such a “drag” because I’m taking care of responsibilities and can’t follow you into the “party life”. Your so tired of me “putting on the brakes” in your life of craziness. But, who do you call on when the shit hits the fan? Who has to put up the bond for you when your in jail? Who do you cry to when you’ve been up for 3 days (or more), your head cant take it, and your coming apart at the seams. Who do you call when the police pull you over? Who do you call for commissary or for a visit when your lonely cause your down for a nickel and everyone else has forgotten about you? Who do you borrow money from to eat, or get gas, or buy tampons, or get cigarettes (the ones that burned my couch, my floor, my vanity, my bed, my car, my skin?)? I ask you to come to meetings with me (church, counseling, NA, AA, etc.), and you laugh, you don’t have time for that “boring shit”. I want to do something besides drink and get high and fight, but your “bored” and want to “have fun” before you die. It’s the “uncool” one in your life that you lean on when the police slap on the cuffs, so be nice to us….signed, the “uncool one”

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The Uncool One – Struggling with an addict

You know me, I’m the “uncool” one, the “buzz kill” because I tell you to stop drinking and drugging. I tell you I can’t go out because I have to work the next day. I’m such a “drag” because I’m taking care of responsibilities and can’t follow you into the “party life”. Your so tired of me “putting on the brakes” in your life of craziness. But, who do you call on when the shit hits the fan? Who has to put up the bond for you when your in jail? Who do you cry to when you’ve been up for 3 days (or more), your head cant take it, and your coming apart at the seams. Who do you call when the police pull you over? Who do you call for commissary or for a visit when your lonely cause your down for a nickel and everyone else has forgotten about you? Who do you borrow money from to eat, or get gas, or buy tampons, or get cigarettes (the ones that burned my couch, my floor, my vanity, my bed, my car, my skin?)? I ask you to come to meetings with me (church, counseling, NA, AA, etc.), and you laugh, you don’t have time for that “boring shit”. I want to do something besides drink and get high and fight, but your “bored” and want to “have fun” before you die. It’s the “uncool” one in your life that you lean on when the police slap on the cuffs, so be nice to us….signed, the “uncool one”

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