The Addictive Landscape

--> So hot you keep me up all night

And then beat

Yet buzzing
from this broken bender

I’m awake on the train in the morning

I can’t stop staring out the window.

I’m Almost creeping on the outside.

Up in the mountain

It just can’t rest

Then from afar

I’m sucked into your

Succulent beauty

Swishing

Sloshing

Crashing

Waves

Frozen

High

Pointed peaks

Smelling

Frosted

Flora

And concrete

I can taste your gravel

Dirt

Grinding

Gyrating

Repeatedly

Between my teeth and under my toes

When we touch

Finally

I am released

And it blows apart my body

And streams out of my fingertips

But only for some moments

And I recoil

Left

In

Awe

As the next delicious piece come in view

And I heatedly await as I walk towards the distance

Big Questions

Isn't it unique...?

That on this deep dark night

In this deep dark town

Where the rain is lightly falling

So you can’t even feel it

And the store lamps illuminate the whole place

like it’s set up just for you

That everything feels so desolate

Yet you don’t feel alone

Rather at home with yourself

In the loneliest of environments

Reflecting

After long talks with friends

trying to tell yourself it wasn't just the wine...

Remeber Rich ???

I remember Rich,

one of the best junkies I'd ever known,
one of the worst humans to ever live.
Living solely on a diet of Budweiser, cocaine, and cigarettes
Like a free diver,
Rich existed to test the limitations of the human body
to the fullest extent.

I remember Rich,
living next door in the duplex apartment
banging on my wall in the middle of the the night
inviting me over to watch porn and blow lines.

Hundreds of Bud bottles lined our shared from porch;
a tribute to Rich's ailing liver.

Rich was so good at drinking.
He practiced a lot.

Everyday,
Rich sat and stared out from our porch
surveying the vast wasted land of our project.
Rich's emaciated body sat shriveled, like a peanut shell,
chuggling beer after beer
smoking Camel Wides like they were going out of style,
hollerin' at the mangy crackwhores
as they stumble down the street in the early morning.

Sometimes he'd invite them in for a $5 dollar blow job.
According to Rich:
"The 'ol girl needs to see a dentist"

I took his word for it.

Rich loved to black out
and...
mangle his his bike on the cement lamp post
then hide it under the bush out front.
In the morning he'd ask
(In his strained and nasal southern beach bum voice):
"Who the fuck stole my bike?"

I remember Rich fighting ghosts in the front yard,
beating himself to a bloody pulp
against the concrete.

Some time's he'd sit me down to,
"Shhhhhhhhh!",
tell me
"Something real serious, that nobody else knows."
The voices in his head
would get him into trouble,
make him do things like
fight bums in the grave yard at midnight
and blow up frogs in the driveway with firecrackers.

I remember Rich,
Raging down I-10 from Tallahassee to Jacksonville
blasting the Dead Kennedy's
100 miles per hour
nose glued to a silver vile
hand glue to a bud
smoking butts with the windows up
straight cruise control, baby.

I remember Rich dying on the side of the highway
The mouth to mouth got me nothing more than regurgitated chips and beer.

I remember Rich,
one of the best junkies I 'd ever known,
one of the worst humans to ever live.