I gauge my life by the depth of the relationships I share with others. I want to love. Meeting up with an acquaintance for a drink can be fun but it isn't living. It is a cheap substitute for something more substantial. So I continue to search for the depth only true friendship and love can bring.

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It has been a good Christmas. I am happy and content. I need for nothing and there isn't anything I really want. Seeing other people smile is like a drug and when you mix it with booze you are riding high.

In the light of day I don't look so good. Keep me in the shadows--in the black. The sun exposes ugly truths that I don't want to face. So I will creep in my own shadow, in my own dark dream...

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My mind is gone. Blown. The wind whistles through cooling my blood but my brain is still hot with emotion. I just want out of here. The world closing in. Everything so small and terrifyingly familiar. This place again. A place I never wanted to go back to.

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This place sucks. If I could pack everything up in a day I would leave. Small minds. Small world. Big dissapointment...

I'm not celebrating Christmas this year. No one is getting me anything and I haven't bought anything for anyone else. I know. I know. Christmas isn't about gifts but usually I like to buy people things. I really don't care whether I get anything or not. I buy everything I need anyway...

I just want Christmas to pass. On New Year's Eve I'll get so drunk I forget everything and then I'll wait for it to get warm outside and maybe one day I will feel the sun on my face again.

I gave you everything I had and you used my heart like a frisbee. You threw it as far away as it would go. It hit a tree and stuck for a moment and then fell to the ground...

Back and not caring about yesterday. I'm gonna be mean so don't get in my way. I have a vision of what tomorrow is going to be and its goddamn beautiful...

Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for -Bob Marley

I don't know what I've done in this lifetime but it must have been something awful. I finally found someone I really liked, someone I thought liked me and then she broke up with me. I'm left alone and depressed. Tell me, what did I do to deserve this?

I can't eat. You can't tell but inside I am dying. It is a well kept secret that is no longer a secret. I'd rather not wake up.

I blew my nose in the shower this morning and it started to bleed. The blood wouldn't stop. It just kept running down my face. I didn't try to stop it. I watched as it soaked into my pubic hair and then onto my legs and then onto the bottom of the tub. There was blood everywhere and I didn't care...

I just want to sleep with my dogs by my side. I don't think I will wake up. The world hurts too much. In my dreams I can see you and I don't have to face the reality of a cold morning without you...

If your lucky someone comes into your life and suddenly your not looking through a dirty windshield. Suddenly everything is clear and beautiful like you just went through a carwash for your soul.

Last night at about three AM I awoke to my Chihuahua Burma standing in front of my face dancing around--he wanted to go out. I reluctantly crawled out of my warm bed and sent them out into the frigid night air.

After about 30 seconds Uma came scratching at the door. I let her in and called for Burma. He came but stopped at the bottom of the steps.

"Come on big guy," I said.

Nothing.

"Come on Burma, it's cold."

Nothing.

"How about a treat?

Nothing.

So, I ran outside in my underwear. At that very moment Burma heard something and darted off.

"Damn it, Burma get back here."

I was running around barefoot in my underwear and it couldn't have been more than twenty degrees. After about 30 seconds I corralled Burma, picked him up and brought him inside.

When I put him down on the warm kitchen floor he danced as if he was going to get a treat. I think I was suffering from hypothermia but he was so damn cute. I had to give him a treat...

My heart is a piñata filled with blood. Why you would want to beat it with a club I don’t know. Maybe you’re just fucked up or maybe you like to feel the blood run through your spread fingers…

A hot cup of coffee and my Chihuahuas tucked in my sweatshirt as I write--it's a damn good way to start the day. I don't get to do this often anymore and I miss it. Inside me the writer wants to, no needs to be heard but he has been surpressed. There is much yet to be written. The writter is not dead. He is born again...

You're not alone.
I'm with you.
I'm lonely too.
What's that song?
Can't be sung by two.
A broken home, a broken heart.
Isolated and afraid.
Open up this is a raid.
I'm gonna get it it through to you.
You're not alone.


From -You're Not Alone - by Mavis Staples

The blood from a wounded heart is the perfect ink for prose.

When I am alone I am not lonely. When I am with someone and they are not there the loneliness creeps into my head and festers there...