I am waiting for it to pass, this
winter, this ebb of
a slow roll toward
a dull ache…and
it will, they
always do
I look out on grey sunshine
on salt white streets
on and on
feeling the cold through
my eyes
watching silently
from perched windows
from where I am
trying to be there
longing to be
I am waiting for
the warming of ventricles
winter is in my heart
bleak and as cold
as I see from
windows looking down
and looking
for a sign
that the cold, the razor sharp
biting and emotionless
will pass, I am
looking for an end
and hoping
that it is
a beginning.


The Day Before

I’m no longer sure
who we are anymore…the days
slide by with little
with little
to remember except
a disagreeable attitude, a
longing for
the fuck is wrong with us
we can’t talk
we can’t SEE each other
there seems to be little
connecting us
little to notice
when we’re apart
…we are political when
hope is needed
when love should be the thing
between us, it is
when Christmas should be
the comfort of friends
the warm joy
of consideration, generosity;
it is bleak and
I don’t know the way
if we were ever there
to begin with (I want
to believe)
but we should try to
decide that the skin
bones, blood, breath
and heart
mean something
just today.

she is hope

She is beautiful in
a normal sort of way, like
not a destination, not
a stage…she is feelings
from inside
wearing them like feathers on
a flamingo
she watches what she does
knowing the inches in between
the seconds
that it takes, she
can’t help herself
but helps me
to see a slightly shimmering
just on the other side
of grief that
is our daily living…
grieving choices unmade
she cannot be anyone else
but is filled to overflowing
with joy
and love because
she is
listen to her.

to think

In the corners of our minds eye, we

like to think, seem to


that there is something that is

not us

something that

is expansive, unaccountable, pervasive


but it is a joke

we tell ourselves

without squeaking out

the punchline…

deep and untried philosophies go

to great lengths

to convince us

cajole us

intimidate and strong-arm


that all of our thinking is real, is

solid someplace else;

it is not

either of those…

go convince your dog, through

questioning his


that there is

no god

or talk to the trees, the dirt

describe a morning sunrise on Jupiter

what to believe;


but we live in the fantasy that what is created

is not by us

we like to think,

and that


the problem

F Zoned

I’ve met, and in some cases have fallen in love with, lots of women in the time that I’ve been crawling across the surface of this spinning rock. In fact, I am still friends with many of them whether here on social media, in real life or in other ways like the occasional hand written letter, etc. In some cases, the women I am friends with…

…I am still “in love” with.

Now, I know that that love—regardless what went wrong—will always remain unrequited, that it will never bloom into the bountiful garden that I had once imagined…and I’m OK with that. I’m sad about it as well and have longing memories…fanciful daydreams even…but I’ve settled into a familiar routine of knowing what was once possible; can never be.

These friends I keep at arm’s length but not rigidly so, not so that it’s noticeable to anyone but me. I may occasionally drop a hint, test the waters, etc. but what I don’t do, or believe, is that I’ve been “friendzoned”.

Because there is no such thing.

I’m not saying that there aren’t girls out there who are assholes and take advantage of boys both for the no cost accumulation of material possessions or for the purposes of emotional blackmail and manipulation. That there are no girls out there who will knowingly take advantage of a situation where she knows she should reciprocate the feelings but quite deliberately does not, purely to her advantage.
There certainly are girls like that.

What I am saying is that it is up to me and only me to decide if I want to stay in a relationship where I love someone and they do not love me back…or do not love me back in the same way (or the way that I want them to). It’s my choice. If I do choose to stay, knowing full well that the love between us will forever remain a one way street (meaning that it’s not “between” us at all) then I have no right to complain or create a fictional situation called the “friend zone”.

Everything that happens thereafter is on me.

So if you’re a boy who is going to piss and moan that you’re such a great guy and you’re so nice and you can’t understand why girls don’t like you in the way that they like or love other boys…all the while refusing to identify and take ownership of the situation you have created—by simply not leaving—then you’re no different than someone who purposely hits himself in the head every 5 minutes with a hammer and complains to the world;

“Owww, ow, my head hurts all the time!”

And you’ll likely get just about the same amount of sympathy from the world.

Believe. Go. Do.



You are god.

Not a god of testaments or long dead civilizations but the god who IS you. You are the god of your dreams, your hopes and aspirations. You are the god that rains holy fire down upon your own actions…and grants miracles seemingly out of nowhere. You are the god, the only god, that will save you…

…from yourself.

Because the only enemy you have on this planet of seven and a half billion others wakes up with you every morning, looks back at you from every mirror…lives inside that moving cage called your body…with you.

Regardless what you’ve been taught to think or feel, the fact is that you are an independent, wholly self-contained entity experiencing this vast universe through the physical senses installed around the edges of your cage. Your physical body;

You see.

You feel.

You smell.

You hear.

You love.

No other god gives you these things, except the god who is you. No other god knows what you know, hears what you hear, sees what you see, feels what you feel, smells what you smell…loves who you love.

No other god holds dominion over your actions, your thoughts and dreams, your hopes and fears…no other god can know you as you know you.

No other god can hurt you like you hurt yourself. And you always hurt yourself.

You are god.

Stop that.

Believe. Go. Do,


What Matters

Things that matter—the essence of reality for all living creatures—are the things that, if we did not do them, we would cease to be alive.

We would die.

We live our lives consciously dreaming that the job, the car, the wife/husband, vacation, Rolex, 5 star restaurant blah blah blah all actually mean something “real”. They don’t. They are simply placeholders—symbols—for taking up the space that we used to use for things like gathering food, fighting off predators, building shelters against the storm…things that actually mattered because if we did not do those things we died.

How much of our daily life is filled with things that matter these days?

It’s hard to imagine what IS NOT meaningless about our lives. Religion, politics and philosophy are merely gimmicks we use to fool ourselves into thinking that we “matter” in the grand scheme of things. We don’t. Reality is the only thing that does matter and it doesn’t give a flying fuck about us and, besides, we rarely if ever see it completely. And WE CHOOSE not to see it by covering it up with outrage and despair and ecstatic joy and horrible disaster and on and on and on…because seeing it would mean we would have to see all of the other shit we’ve been using to hide it. We’d have to acknowledge that most of, if not all of, our lives are dramatic yet meaningless endeavors toward the exact same end regardless; death.

No one wants to face reality.

Facing reality would mean agreeing that what we intrinsically believe, who we vote for, who we love, hate, kill, nurture, persuade, cajole, argue with and otherwise have faith in is meaningless and useless. But that’s a good thing.

Facing reality sets us free from the artificial life we’re caged by, regardless that we built (and continually build and reinforce everyday) that very cage. Facing reality allows us to see ourselves without filter or artifice and allows us to realize that the commercials are wrong, that the social order is wrong. That Pepsi and Coke and Budweiser and Heineken and BMW and Chevy and Levis and Wrangler and MAC and Sephora and and and…

…that they are ALL wrong.

Seeing reality allows us to clearly understand that we can assemble with society (and carry out all those society things like a job and rent and snarky comments on social media) without actually “being” society. Without actually covering up and hiding behind the Brioni suit, the Chanel dress…the tough guy tattoos, the demure girl’s shy smile…

…reality allows us, no, demands that we see ourselves naked and alone on the face of a rock hurtling at a million miles an hour through empty space toward a destination completely unknown…and…not really give a shit. And that’s a good thing.

It’s a good thing because once we shed the artificial and are only left with the real, we are then able to truly love and be ourselves…with all the amazing and shitty that that means…and then truly love and “be” with others.

The only other thing that matters.

Believe. Go. Do.