~Hanging~



When you’re cleaning out your closet you never know what you’ll find…

1) That annoying habit of filling in the blanks myself when I just don’t know something. Talk about feeding insecurities…
2) The ideological belief that I’m not worthy of love. I can’t believe this old thing is still hanging around. I thought I lost that at sea.
3) A coat of many colors I wore to hide my self- loathing. I DEFENINTLY don’t need that anymore.
4) Here’s that emotion that made me believe I was a victim not a survivor. That kept me safe and comfortable for years…There are days when I still pull it out for old times sake. Guess it’s time to let it go…
5) A soap box marked with the words" My opinion (I'm ALWAYS right!)"...Jeez, I guess I was a real a-hole.

How deep is this closet, where does it end?
Are all of my hidden fears waiting to appear?

~Southern France~


old man
painting oceans
sunflowers
self portrait
wet with tears
cut into the myth

playing
russian love songs
drinking
tasting tomorrow
whiskey lips
resin soaked eyes

rosaries
clicking off time
incense permeating
oil soaked canvas
fingers stiffen
feet grow cold

shined bullet
little death
soon
eyes heavy
darkness creeps
mumbling forgiveness

Theo?…

~Waiting for bloody Tuesdays~

somehow…
prized doormats laying on my feet
pretending my tears are liquid joy
artful dodger peeks into my soul
he whispers…

“How can you be so bold when you are so small?
Didn’t you run from the crossing?
She still remembers you…
Do you even care?”

more then you can ever know…

~Tivoli Bar~

seedy bar
whiskey soaked air
chipped counter
lovingly polished oak
a stool at the end

old man wondering
where did his life go
navy got him here
his wife digging his grave with her whine
a winning ticket to the big time

crooked table in the corner
80 yr old go-go dancer
she still thinks she’s a good fuck
for 20$ and a kiss
legs of leather all night
just ignore the warts

Tivoli bar
helping drunks and poets die
since 1885

love’s
t
o
u
ch
real

full

is it

painting

s
h
a
d
o
w
s

across
fields




of flowers
because

i can
smell you



on the wind


petals of

yo

u bru

sh my he

art with sunse

ts of pas


sion

i love you