Recovery

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

This time it didn’t matter if I held you
I guess my heart grew stronger from all the breaks
Like a junky with a kicked addiction
my track marks no longer have aches

I fought through the pain of withdrawal
alone and in despair
Worth nothing more to you, forgotten
in some gutter behind nowhere

Day and night I yearned for another fix
even if it was to be my last
Only it was you who controlled the poison
Stronger than any vial or any glass

I had to kick this dirty habit
I just had to say goodbye
For the therapy of holding on to you
was worse than coming down from the high

Now, my veins are finally clean
suppressed from the urge of you
It took my own rock bottom to discover…
that a drug can be tainted too

Bar Keep

Photo by mentatdgt on Pexels.com

When I turned that key, the night was finally over
It wasn’t easy, they threw a few fists
Mad that the ale had dried up

Now, in the calm of being left alone
I would start with the ashes
dumping out another one of those “greatest nights ever”

As morning slowly took her place
I sat for once on a spinning stool
listening to the buzz of electricity like it was a farewell song

Just me and the ends of unfinished cigarettes
some drowned in half empty glasses
recounting stories of bravery, betrayal, and most times regret

Nights were once my domain
I was like a wrangler of saucy drunks
and disloyal eyes all bidding for my complete attention

Back then my stories were therapy
Music, a tool of enticement
friendly faces better than a tip

The Black Journal (The Boardwalk, Morning Run, Stretching By The Car)

Friday, 7:14 A.M

Sarah! Hey, Sarah…wait up!

Jessie, Jess!
How? I thought you were still in Texas?

I am. Well, I’m still there that is. I’m only back for a few days, one of Charlie’s college friends is getting married. Our plane touched down maybe an hour ago, and knowing you’re still a creature of habit, I knew right where to find you.

Continue reading “The Black Journal (The Boardwalk, Morning Run, Stretching By The Car)”

Like I Wasn’t Even There

Sure, the memories
But, the smell, the taste, the touch,
All still left to make believe
I miss…
The very start
Opening characters, scene one
Greener grass, the bluest skies, salty ocean
That street light at night where I would measure my shadow to the tip of the moon
Those flaked fences, white
A particular damp night sky that I loved and haven’t smelt in a long, long time
Tipped-toed curbs, run past the shop
Yes, my eyes could go blind and I would still make it anyway
Follow the path by memory alone…to my home
Grab a bunch of those crazy flowers along the way
But now, I can only recount
because tomorrow had to come
and now strangers walk about
like I was never even there

The Black Journal – (A Ride Home)

Thursday, 9:50 A.M.


Thanks for the lift home, Uncle Ethan. I don’t think I could have gotten behind the wheel after that.

No worries, Sarah. It’s me, and it’s the least I can do. You doing OK?

I still can’t believe it. Kevin…I mean, we only spoke a few weeks ago. He returned my apartment key and we had coffee together.

Continue reading “The Black Journal – (A Ride Home)”

Earth To Ash – Caution, Area Under Construction

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Hey everybody,


Need your help with something. I’ve been brainstorming a few new ideas regarding my blog lately. Nothing too dramatic, just a few simple tweaks to make the flow of my page work better. I want to allow new followers a chance to easily access some of my more focused categories. I’m even considering cutting a few and devoting my time to what seems to be the good stuff. And, that’s based on feedback and commented interest.

Continue reading “Earth To Ash – Caution, Area Under Construction”