I never know how to say My mind has gone awayTurning black from grayI hate being this wayWhispered confusionMixed within delusionAnd fearful destitutionSeeking restitutionGasping for airUnder total despairAttempting to shareBut the words are not thereFleeting thoughtsOf how we are taughtTo take another shotWhether you make it or notGive it your bestBe normal, like the restWeighing on my chestHeavily suppressedThese chains...

I have been challenged to write out 2 lists of things to do in 30 minutes. Two lists? Yes. I have so much shit to do, I don’t know where to start. So, I have accepted the challenge and have 19 minutes left. I quickly wrote a list of things to do around the house. Dishes Laundry Make sure the kids uniforms are ready for practice. Basic daily stuff. List one is dun. What will my second list consume of? Things I need to do a...

Why are you such a jerk, brain? Why is this the time of day I suddenly feel most awake and alive? Seriously, I must question my sanity entirely when at 4:37am I am so over the not sleeping and all the thinking, questioning, analysing that I consider going out and about for a walk and dancing in the early Spring drizzle in the dead of the night. Actually that sounds like a really swell idea, but I can't be bothered getting...

"Where does it hurt?"I haven't had a massage in over a year. Everything hurts. That's what I am thinking laying naked, covered with a sheet, face up, on the massage table. She is massaging my head. I have no answer. "Any particular area that has been bothering you?"She asks as her fingers massage deeply in my neck and jawline. "My back. Everywhere." And with that, the enchanting Celtic ambient music begins. And the massag...

I know I have been here before. I could never forget this place where I watched the leaves change to vibrant shades of orange and hues of green. Or maybe the green was in your eyes as I fell asleep and you tended my cries. This tiny home so far from home. We walked away, wandered and roamed. Here I am again. Right, where I began.I love this house so much. Watching the snow, feeling your touch. Dancing nude in the backyard...

I wonder if everyone feels all alone sometimes.I wonder if I'd done less drugs, would my mind be clearer? Would I have more answers and less questions?I wonder if I've completely accepted my past enough so to leave it behind.I wonder what that tarot card really means. The outcome is not one I can quite figure out.I wonder if I have any strawberry jelly because it sounds delicious right now. I wonder what the future will b...

What you are looking at, is a message stating the little rant I have written here has foul language, not suited for anyone under 18. It is also not suited for anyone who finds explicit lyrics offending. I just wanted to give everyone fair warning......thank you.I am writing a list of things that make me grrrrr. It's turning in to a novel and raising my blood pressure. Here's the thing....I choose to let these things piss...

I wonder if you see me as you walk on by. Is there anything about me that seems to catch your eye? Or your ears, can you hear my tears? I have gone so many years, living with the same fears, I wish you were near. I wish you could see me really. But you are always too busy. I wonder if you think that about me. I am too busy to stop and see the glimmer in your eye. I am not too busy, but you often turn away, acting shy. So...

==========================I’m writing a bookAll about meAnd my successInside tragedyThat’s how othersPerceive my realityThey offer me pityI do not want nor needSenseless SympathyShould you choose to readDo not feel sorry for meDo not shed a tearI’m happy to be meDancing the border of insanityA door has been openedYou get what is behindI have told this storyWith tequila and limesI forgot all the detailsAdded beats and rhym...

I am tiredOf being that girlThat staysUntil you miss meThat waitsFor you to need meThat longsWhile you ignore meI'm tired of being herI knowI can't have youYou knowI won't take youNo loveHave we madeNo loveShall we loseWe have nothing to chooseNothing scarredNothing bruisedIsn't that right?My eyes piercing nightYour mouth agapeNot a word you makeBut you know it is trueI never loved youIf I didI'd have told youGoodbye to y...

Would you believe what happened to me just yesterday? I ran into Doubt again. That grumpy man is always in my way, and he steals away my grin. Well, today I say fuck him! I practice staying here, being fully present in the now. But yesterday I let that old Mr. Doubt get to me somehow. He tells me I am silly to believe the things you say. He shows bits and pieces to make me lean his way. And I hate to admit, sometimes I do...

Sometimes I wonder what age people think I am. I mean, I know I don’t act like I’m 29, but I am, sadly. I’m 29 and still get asked for ID. Even for fag papers. Okay, so I don’t buy them any more because I’ve given up smoking, but over the past year, I have for friends who still smoke. It’s kinda sad, but I was always know as the one who had the perpetual fag in his gob. I love how British that sentence is. Anyway, what ag...

I like a guitar that’s all beaten and bruised, road worn, one could say. It adds something to it, to know that it has been loved. I see something as loved if it shows signs of actually being used.A few of my guitars have dings all over the place and people have remarked upon them saying things like “why don’t you get them fixed?” Well, they don’t need fixing. They need playing. The fretboards are usually worn from my into...

Well, I think it’s time I wrote something. I’ve been out of the writing game for a while. Really just writing silly stuff, not really enjoying it. I’m not sure why. I suppose it could have been a collaborative story series I did recently, but I think it was just the fact that I could not be bothered.I still largely can’t be bothered, but I know that I have to, or I might just go insane. This is an unfortunate side effect...

What is the point of a second hand hat? That, I fear, is a misnomer. Should it not be second head? After all, one wears a hat on the head, so that terminology seems bonkers, to me, at least. Shoes are another thing. They should be third and fourth foot. Gloves should be second and fourth hand. Or am I just being overly obtuse?It boggles the mind, all those weird misnomers. It actually feels like the word “misnomer” is a m...