Welcome

Hey, you made it to my blog. I hope you enjoy my postings here. I only started to write again somewhat recently, when I was younger, I wrote a couple of different things that have been lost in life's shuffle. Nothing that will be missed, just little projects that were interesting to me. I was surprised then, that writing was fun and I liked to do it. I am surprised now, that I am having even more fun and that I want to get better at it. I came back to writing after being inspired by reading a dear friends blog. Thanks T. My first piece was written by candlelight, thanks to Hurricane Sandy and typed some time after we regained power days later. Admittedly, somethings are better than others and I haven't nailed anything a hundred percent yet, but I am hoping the more, and more, and more that I write, the better I can get at it. This blog is my way of motivating myself to write more and to improve. Another dear friend of mine, gave me the push and confidence to want to show other people my work. Thanks E. Now that it is out there for people to see (warts and all) maybe I can get some more feedback so that I can see what is working and what is not. Anyway, thanks for checking it out and feel free to let me know what you think, I appreciate honesty over smoke, and constructive criticism.

My Time

is my time worth less or worse yet worthless

are my hours, your seconds, easily unaccounted for

is your watch stuck, or broken just like my heart

I'd wait forever for you, and you know it.

is my love worth less or worse yet worthless

are my feelings, your second thoughts, easily shook off

is your book full, or am I the only one crossed out

I'd love you forever, and you know it

is my time worth less or worse yet useless

should I allot it elsewhere, move past your carelessness

am I the one chained to the clock, not able to move past you

don't leave me here forever

is my love worth less or worse yet useless

should I stop saving it for you, go find the deserving

am I the one that is a beggar for love, not able to fill my cup

don't let me love you forever

The Night Before

I entered this next piece into a short story competition, I didn't win, but I had a fun time writing this fictional little story.

            My girl and I had had only one huge fight before, but this was something else. This was Pearl Harbor and Nagasaki combined. It was the beginning and the end of our second great war.  I feared that this might be something that we could not come back from, the fallout being too much this time. It's true, she might have started this conflict, but I sure as hell finished it. I resorted to using my mouth, a registered weapon of mass destruction, to win and end the argument. I didn't realize it then, but it ended the relationship as well. As I sat amid the scorched earth, the thought of losing her started to cling to me like a heavy grey sweater darkened black by the driving icy rain.  It was only hours since the battle, but with zero communication from either side it felt longer. Time took what felt like eons to pass, and while it did the ever flowing tears steadily grooved paths into the landscape of my cheeks. These mighty rivers left seemingly permanent reminders of the words I said to her. For some reason, I kept asking  myself three questions over and over. Why was I so fucking stupid? Why was I so mean? Why was I so me?

            There was collateral damage everywhere, and it lay unmoved. The smashed remains of the glass she threw here, the uncountable office supplies from her desk, there. The glass, I ducked, the desk, I flipped. The apartment was a war zone and I was trying to survey the damage. In all the wreckage, there was only one object damaged that wasn't left completely fucked up beyond all recognition. The lone survivor happened to be the wall that butted up against the front door. It only received a small crack, a flesh wound really, and since the damage was only superficial I left it alone, leaving its plaster blood to gather into harmless little piles by the front door. The dust, left free to fall, mimicked the grains of time that are trapped forever inside their prison of glass. These particle imposters kept track of every minute that had passed since she slammed that very front door closed on me, on us. Why was I so stupid? Why was I so fucking mean? Why was I so me?

            I flipped Help! over to the B side on the way over to the dust pan and broom, in a move intended to end the deafening silence, while still fulfilling my solemn duty to remove the carnage from the battlefield. I was hoping the music would continue to help pass the time as I cleaned up the rest of the mess. I was also hoping it would start to act as a distraction from her and the fight. At first, I only got one out of two. Time cleaning seemed to move fairly fast, but I still found myself reliving each and every word  launched towards one another, the night before. I was also having flashbacks of all the events that left me taking these endless trips back and forth to the garbage can. Sweep, walk, dump, repeat, sweep, walk, dump, repeat. As the routine sunk in and the piles started to fade, the memories started to fade too, the music was making good on my second need. Each song distracted me a little more, until I was lulled into a false sense of security. The music knew that I was now completely vulnerable and it decided to ambush me on my final march to the kitchen. As the needle of the record player dipped into the sixth set of grooves, I immediately started taking fire from the wall-mounted machine gun speakers. The first few sound bullets perforated my shirt and grazed the skin beneath; soon enough I was taking heavy damage directly through my chest and into my heart. As I was being shredded apart my eyes focused on what was happening directly in front of me. I swear, for those two minutes and three seconds, I watched in stunned, slow motion silence as the remaining shards of broken glass and bent silver paper clips spun and twirled with each other on a vertical dance floor made of the dull, bone white plaster. These casualties of war shimmered and shined together one last time on the long final decent towards their final resting place. Sometimes the music can help, and sometimes it can kill. Yes Paul, at that moment I believed in yesterday too, and as I laid there dying, three familiar questions took me into the blackness. Why was I so stupid? Why was I so mean? Why was I so fucking me?