This Is All I Have To Give…

Graffital Aorta
Gold keys, to a trap door in the sky
While anger keeps me warm at night
Self exceptions, to every rule, and I keep
violating all, and it is written in granite,
“He was laughing too much.”
This is all I have to give…
Spinning windows, reappear, lifts me to the
silo and returns myself to you.
Pyramid crystals, shimmer in the sun, terrify me
isolate myself from the truth.
This is all I have to give…
Suns rise and they will set, time disappears,
I sit here, and decompose.
This depression, is growing on me, like an infection
and I am scared of every mirror I’ve been shown.
I have nothing more to offer, out of options
and I have nothing else to give!
Dead end mazes, hole in the spine, better off dead
keeps eating me alive.
From the inside, this holy war, left disassembled
torn apart…I find myself…missing you.
Your deviant hundred proof, my sacrifice.
This is all I have to give!
This is all I have to give!
Held out your hand, I took a grip, the microchip,
I’m yours to wield as your device.
I took the pieces of your broken tribe and
and put them back in line.
Pieces of puzzles, mixed and matched,
Don’t think I’ll make it out alive!
Just like a reaper, on the shoulder,
you pretender, making sure that I had died!
I took the bullet, jumped in front, just like
I was taught.
Only with my last one breath, I saw the gunman
and it was you that fired the shot!
And this is all I have to give!

I lived across the street, literally across the street from a JW educational type place for about five years in Florida and I never encountered anyone unfriendly, pushy or bat-shit. I don’t know much about their beliefs but they were good people. I don’t know. There are a lot worse things one could be into. I have some serious issues and problems with Scientology. I mean, that’s just an opinion. Personally, they don’t believe what I believe. I’m Gnostic, however.

No, you can’t control it and, from my own experiences, having no hope and nothing to hold onto, not specifically talking about religion but something on the skyline, to reach for, it is beyond desolate and bleak and lonely. I’ll tell ya a quick story, which will end up long because I don’t how to keep things simple and short.

In 1996 I was 17 years old and living outside of Bismarck, North Dakota. I had just moved from Eureka, California. I spent a lot of my most impressionable years running between Eureka and Redding. Even when I was younger, I knew I was different. I was born in the south and as I grew up, I started to notice things that didn’t make sense. I just didn’t fit into country music and churches and all of those stereotypical “southern” archetypes. I liked Iron Maiden and Twisted Sister and the Beastie Boys and The Clash, Pink Floyd and I was into nerdy stuff like reading and comic books and that wasn’t what the “Country South” was about. So, when we relocated to California, that burden of feeling repressed and stifled because I didn’t give in to that lifestyle was totally lifted. There were mountains and the ocean and snow and everything was wide open and relaxed. Hell, right before we moved, a young black man was dragged behind a truck and lynched in a tree! Fuck that place. I will never go back there.

Not too long after moving there, I had a girlfriend, a small group of diverse friends and I started playing guitar and writing songs in a punk band but what went unnoticed to me was how that freedom opened the door for indulgence and before I knew it, I was on uppers and drinking heavily every day and every night. I started skipping school. Eventually, I dropped out to pursue music but instead, drugs, alcohol and eventually a few months in a juvenile detention center later and my Mother had seen enough. It wasn’t her fault. She set rules. I broke them. She had standards. I played limbo with them. She tried to get me help. I said “fuck you”.

I wasn’t a bad kid either. I tried to spare her from my addictions and disobedience because I KNEW it would hurt her. My Grandmother had died just prior to moving and I KNEW it would hurt her too, even though she was gone. Ultimately, her death may have been the catalyst but that’s another rabbit hole for another day. I was still a pretty decent kid, still intact and in-touch with reality. I had a job. I did chores. I didn’t talk back…but…at night, I was out the door. So, she did what she thought was the right thing. She moved us to North Dakota. She wanted me to reconnect with Nature and my faith and spirit and the Dakotas are a wonderful place to do that. Absolutely beautiful landscapes and a rich indigenous heritage that much later in life would bring me full circle BACK to North Dakota. Have I told you about that yet??

But, at 17, none of that mattered. I lost everything I had by moving and to a small town that, yeah, wasn’t Southern AmeriKKKA bad but it was its own form of repression and stagnation quickly set in. I still struggled with addiction and eventually I was back on the wrong track and on Christmas Eve at about noon-ish, I was high as a kite and all by myself because the assholes I went up to Minot with left without me. So, all of this hopelessness and anger and pain launched a piece of particle board through a window of an office-type building that they were constructing.

And that was it. I was done. So, sitting on the frame of the window, hands bloody. I remember it was really REALLY high up. Maybe fourth or fifth floor and the wind was just gusting these massive walls of frozen air at me. I still cared, but I was done trying. Ready to descend. End it all. But the sunlight’s shimmer on the shards of glass and the ice frozen on them ignited a process. I was tucking tail and running like some bottom-dwelling invertebrate. I was running from the truth and the truth finally caught me. I began to question if this was all I had to give. Is this what I was worth? And forged in those frozen crystals of ice were oracles. Every shape was different and unique. Yet they were all connected as one. Glimmering, almost a locomotion of function. It’s all about encoding your meaning, your thoughts, your feelings into something beyond recognition.

Then…epiphany. Vision. Clarity. If I jumped, I would never learn what singularity I was connected to. Much like an Owl and its prey. The prey sees nothing in the darkness. The Owl…sees everything. I had to stop running from the darkness and start learning to exist in it, love myself in it. Infinitesimal saviors. To think something so tiny as crystals of ice, frozen to glass and a beam of light illuminating them in a way that I may never have noticed until they were right in front of my face saved my life that afternoon and inspired me to find a way to cope. To search for hope again.

And no, it hasn’t been easy…at all. Clearly. But I think that one moment, that one rare instance that can never be replicated sown the seed of a mighty Oak Tree. And despite all of the stormy weather, the hurricanes, the tornadoes and volcanic eruptions, it has endured, the broken limbs and lightning strikes and toxins and insects boring into its core…it still stands. It still lives.

Told you that was gonna be long. My point is that when all hope is gone, when you have nothing to reach for, you wind up seconds from that darkness eating you alive. We must have hope.

I think confidence, in a way, one source of it, comes from not comparing ourselves to others. That’s hard not to do. I think it’s not so much who we are that holds us down, it’s who we think we’re not. And, as the saying goes, doubt, kills more dreams than failure. The fact that you are aware of your fears and what they specifically are is smart thinking. It means you have choices. Some people never identify their fears and they’re forever a slave to them.

But not to be a little indelicate here for a moment. You know what got you where you are. When you get that freedom, you’re certainly not going to make those same faulty decisions again, right? Right. You’re already rewiring the mainframe. The REAL failure is not even trying in the first place. So, that’s a piece of confidence right there, that you already possess. Now let’s build on it. We’re not perfect. We’re not always going to hit the nail on the head and sometimes we’re just gonna smash the shit out of our fingers but it’s YOUR house you’re building. So it makes no sense to lay the foundation, erect a wall and abandon that construction because you missed a swing.

But don’t get me wrong. I truly do know what that fear and doubt and lack of confidence and esteem is like. I know what I’m saying makes it sound easy but I’m not dismissing any of the emotions you’re feeling right now. They are all fully valid. They’re also totally manageable. I know it’s difficult but try to tell yourself that as long you give it your all, as long as you try, there’s no win or lose. There’s win or try again…

Be patient. This is necessary…

Because I Can’t Decide…

No. I don’t. I don’t have it under control. Is that what you want me to say?! That everything is fine?? When relapse and rehab are both laughing at me this time?!

Tearing myself down inch from inch with little bombs made of my prayers but you think God has me in mind??

Look at me in BOTH my faces when I’m not practicing what I’m preaching but I can’t quit and I can’t admit that the only way out is through an amber bottle of this shit and don’t fret about my future endeavours or love or bliss, this is agony and I’VE BEEN DEAD FOREVER!!

Up or down, inside or out, awake or asleep, permanence is the only thing that means anything.

And I gotta make that decision…

Alas, Poor Yorick!

“… I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times, and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it!”

“(ahem) But, Hamlet?”

“Horatio! Wherefore wilt thee vexeth me during this, mine own moment of sorrow?!”

“Hamlet, I begeth of thy forgiveness but…is yond…Yorick??

“Huh. Well, fuck me liketh a goat.”


“‘Aye. Tis only Hymen Scroop, the asshole! Had no more brains than a stone but…haply he wast right about the myristic acid. (shrugs)” 

Abnormal Prodigy: It’s Hard To Fight Naked…

Ahhh, the PCP story. Not my finest moment but funny none-the-less.

I’ve always been socially withdrawn and fairly misanthropic. Just the tedium and monotony of partying, people constantly trying to get laid and then doing it all over again bored the hell out of me. I socialized but with the group of friends I knew. I was a classic wallflower but I wasn’t before that. I was a serious consumer of all things alcohol and plenty of other illicit substances and when I woke up naked in a bathtub in some person’s house that I didn’t know…for the second time, I started to get tired of it. And then, one night in a pool hall, when I was 15, someone gave me a joint. I, of course, took it, but…didn’t know it was laced with PCP.

It was just after midnight and I was behind the Neon Palace, in the dumpster lane, with trash and red solo cups and shit just everywhere, pants around my ankles in my boxers, no idea where my shirt and jacket were. I was screaming bloody murder and doing this duck waddle/run back and forth begging for someone to let me in because it was going to kill me. It was a 20 foot tall polar bear, blood dripping out of his mouth, I thought one of my arms was amputated and he was right on top of me.

Then I was trying to climb into the big green dumpster to hide from Forrest Gump but I couldn’t get in because my pants and boxer shorts were around my ankles.

My deadbeat friends were at the doorway laughing like it was the funniest damn thing anyone had ever said or done. They dragged me in and I blacked out. Next afternoon I woke up with a massive headache and the first thing I did was check for my arm, which was obviously still there. Later they explained that I wasn’t screaming about a polar bear at all but that I was Batman and that I was stuck in my batsuit and I had wrecked batmobile behind the Walmart in Baltimore. I wasn’t in Baltimore, I was in Redding, CA. I’ve never even been to Baltimore but I was totally freaking out because Willie Nelson and Forrest Gump were on their way to the FBI to tell them I was Batman and I was panicking, trying to get my batsuit off before they could find me, so, I’m screaming at them about getting this armored rubber suit off but in reality I was just getting naked.

Then I was trying to climb into the big green dumpster to hide from Forrest Gump but I couldn’t get in because my pants and boxer shorts were around my ankles. But, what was actually going through my warped little brain was this massive polar bear that was trying to murder me and despite pleading with my friends to help, they were just laughing at me.

I have no recollection of how I got home or who brought me home. The most embarrassing part? Having to explain to my Mother why I was sleeping naked with my sneakers on.

15 years old and it just fucked me up and I stopped drinking and smoking stuff. Until the next year when one of my friend’s talked me into speed and scotch and I got busted for burglary. I don’t remember any of it but served several months. When I got out, I withdrew from it all. Then it turned really dark and really gruesome. Our center, our core, the friend we all turned to for love and laughter and comfort killed himself on Christmas Eve. A year later, another of us overdosed on heroin.

And just like that…it was…over.

Never do PCP! You’re gonna have a bad time. I can’t fathom why people intentionally do it!

Shark Story…

Shark Story

So, when I turned 20, I started playing games on a website for shits and giggles. I began talking to a woman on there and things escalated pretty quickly. Now, my first red flag should have been that she lied about her age and was twice as old as I was but that didn’t matter to me because here was this older, beautiful woman who was totally interested in me and heaping all of this attention on me and so when I turned 21 we began planning a trip to meet up with each other.

Both of us flew to Orlando to meet before going to Ormond Beach where she had a condo. So we meet up, grab a bag of liquor and head out. The first night we were just tired and slept but the next day the weather was okay, overcast and rainy but we were sloshed and wanted to go swimming. It was windy and grey but we did our swimming thing for a while until she wanted to come out and sit for awhile.

I stayed in the water. It was at this point that I noticed I was in water so deep I couldn’t touch the bottom. So, I’m floating on my back and she’s just a little dot when behind me, this splattering rang out. I started treading and turned around. About a foot away were all of these small fish. Some were medium sized mullet breaching the water. It was kind of cool watching them but they were getting closer and closer until they were jumping all around me, some of them hitting me in the chest and face but then they just moved on and I started floating again.

A minute goes by and I hear this splash behind me. Harder than the little fish, bigger. I turned and saw nothing but when I turned around to face the shore a huge splash happened to my left and in front of me cruised a dorsal fin, about 9-10 inches tall with a black tip. I froze and it went under to my right as it curved around me.

This is the only time in my life where being drunk actually saved my ass.

I immediately start swimming toward shore when this massive splash happens in front of me and this time I saw its body all the way back to the caudal fin. It was definitely a shark and probably about 7-8 feet long too. I stop swimming as fiercely and start creeping forward.

And that’s when I felt the huge thud into my left thigh. It was rough like sandpaper as it slid across my leg. I then surfaced and circled me again but I didn’t panic. I slowly went back to floating on my back and started stroking forward to the shore. As I got to where I could stand, the water was still up to my neck and the shark surfaced again. Now I started to move with urgency because the shark was tracking me. It was stalking me. Getting closer to me, inch by inch at first. Inches became feet.

As I got to shoulder level water, my legs were swept from under me by a rip current. I tumbled in a cartwheel and I knew to just ride it out but I was being pummeled with a shark nearby. The rip current dragged me all the way to the shore and I came to rest right by a Horseshoe Crab. I was pissed at the current so I stood and yelled “Fuck you!!” at the ocean just as a huge wave crashed into me, breaking my nose. I had been swept a quarter of a mile down the beach by the current and had to stagger all the way back to her and she had no clue that I had just gotten really lucky. Although, in retrospect, the river of blood pouring out of my nose was probably more jarring and alarming.

So, after I went back home, I was watching the news and they were doing helicopter fly-overs that showed thousands, and I mean thousands of sharks swimming right where I had been swimming. In fact, experts named that summer the “Summer of the Shark” because of all of the attacks. And, to top it all off, there was a major tropical storm to the southeast of us at the time.

My own personal Perfect Storm.

I had a friend who was a Marine Biologist and she said the only reason that shark didn’t bite and tear me apart was because I was too drunk and they apparently don’t like the smell of alcohol and so it moved on.

This is the only time in my life where being drunk actually saved my ass.



I see dreams in a window, being rearranged.
Inside arcs of tingling bars, backlights a
palmate and I am feeling rather strange.

Feelings of raw percussion, cling to my skin.
And I was skeptical at first, until you took my
hand, assured me I wouldn’t feel a thing.


And away and in a second and in a fog.
A daze has left me weary of the talking
to the walls and myself.

Claps of starving thunder, filling my void.
Please, scrape away the tissue, every cell.
I am seeing stars. (But I am feeling just fine)

(Better than before)

Empty, by the here and now.
Even though they seem so familiar here.
Woven through my scars, dance like fireflies
in an esoteric light, there’s something
mystical here!

Reach out, hold the sky’s weight.
Numb to the core, but I do not mind.
(I’m getting smaller by the minute)
And every thought was intertwined,
with every fiber of my psyche and
as I rest my head forever and I
feel myself begin to dissipate…

The Alcazar…

The Alcazar

Startled by your, skeptical being.
You’re shattering, my inner doubtful lost demons
An elegant breeze.
Blows through the strands surrounding.

Warm like winter.
Backwards and confusing.
I am not a trampled flower.
Crushed and brittle to the gusts of…

Show me emptiness.
Unable is persuasion.
And this is my apology, as well as a surrender
Show me tranquility.
Light and blue to tender.
And this is just a memory

A hollow riveting, shines like mirrors.
Daring me to fall.
Into your mystery.
And shivering with fearful entities.
Bitten by the dawn’s blue frost.
And if I’m pulled to the ground.
Will there be the shadow?

Inside the cell again…

Gripping to the bars!
Desperate for you to forgive!
I’ll justify the plea.
I’ll cry just like a child!
Once you see the villain.
The enemy in me.
Once I know that you’ll let go!
Of the relics I’ve defiled!
I’ll cast away all persuasions.
In the cage where I will die!

Show me solitude.
Unable to lose this.
Fading recollection.

Apprehension beckons me to,
leave the ledge and plummet down.
And show me reasoning!

Why this has to be this way!



A throne of chiseled fury holds a stifled little
breath of discontent.
A small but giant wraith possesses ire
and petulance.

And upon this angry altar is a sinner this time
dying to be a saint.
And from way up high he contemplates the meaning
of this place.

With lips bound.
Without a sound.
His testament, better left unsaid.
And silent he remains…

So wars of undiscovered words, fought by thoughts
with no foundation, his demise
So many possibilities squandered, opportunities
gone by and it doesn’t make sense.

One last chance at no way out to fuel the bonfire
of more constraint.
One more day of this oppression wrought with
obsession and he just might.

With lips bound.
Without a sound.
And silent he remains…



Would love to see you change.
I’m sorry, I didn’t know.

Would love to rearrange.
The chemicals, you can’t outgrow.

What secrets lie beneath this
Devil’s throne?
Bewildered by and insolent.
When affliction’s, your coping stone.

I’m sorry, I couldn’t care.
Whether your eyes,
and bones,
are even there.

The air, is not so clear.

And I’ll crawl!
Before I grow!
Before I throw!
All away…

As snow does to a fire.
Some nest from which escapes.
Has murmured its ballad.
While your fault lines conspire.

The air, is not so clean.

And I’ll crawl!
Before I grow!
Before I throw!
All away…

And I’ll ride this wave of heresy.
Beneath your voodoo path and way.
Incredulous, I look away.
I’ve nothing left for you to see.
The Demons that you hold so deep.
I pray that you’ll someday release.
But if your means to medicate.
Continue on this artery.
I promise you I won’t remain.
While you drown yourself in tragedy!

I’m gone.
The drug, is now your vein.

And I’ll crawl.
Before I grow.
Before I throw.

I promise you!

I won’t remain…