"I Abide"

I live in a city of angels. Not L.A. Fuck you for thinking that.
New York City. A real city with real Angels.

You fucking idiots. You have no idea how many Saints are born a day here.
Not the plastic window display pieces of yesterdays garbage like in Calioformya.

Everyone scrambles around like theyre so god damn busy, but nobodys got anywhere to go. I love it. I live it. I got no-place to go too. No where but down in the shit. Drunk, tired, homeless, fucked up, and done.

I love it. live it.

The Angels here are like none other. The best saviors in the fucking world.
Without those few this city would crumble.

The mortar between the bricks, holding seven levels of city together for a bunch of un-worthy saps. God bless them.

I love it. live it.

"Give us your bullshit and we'll take care of them."
says: the big green statue that's never been robbed or shit on...
Every second of every day I know someone just like me cries themselves to sleep. Someone finds their head in the oven deciding death someone decides the next day they will die.
What is this MONSTER?
What is this BLESSING?
My god, my city, I will abide.

You wish:

I wish I knew everyone I knew. I wish I knew my past. I wish I knew my future. I wish I knew what was going on. I wish I knew you. I wish I knew it was love. I wish I knew it was anything.I wish I knew I was okay. I wish I knew I wasn't. I wish I knew...

Verticle quarters:

i sit in front of a table with two quarters standing in front of me; vertical.
the smoke comming from my lungs looks more like a piece of my soul being exhaled than just the normal smoke
and i find comfort in this
i find discomfort in almost everything else
i begin to day dream, a repeatative dream like a lot of the dreams i have, but less terrifying.
with that i pound the table knocking the quarters on their sides as they should be
exhale a little bit more of my soul as i stand
and smile since i know i have quite a few drags of this cigarette to go.

Philosopher:

hey, if you already dove in head first; why get out of the cold water?

Old n gold

When things got druggy and ugly the disgusting keep going. So many thing I'll never remeber, and maybe for the best.
I remember connecting triangles outside an upstate nowhere oasis.
Thinking to myself I could be drinking whiskey.
And then why?
I realized a lot about life then.
Old gold never meant more than smoking those cigarettes with you...

New perspective:

In the unforeseen recent dive into homelessness, couch surfing, and semi-unemployment I've decided that... well, I just don't have the means to paint. No seriously, I'm living under my friends stairs in a crawl space in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Hard to set up a drafting table in a space you can't stand up in. Never fear! In the face of the odds I've rediscovered my love for writing (a creative outlet even the smallest of spaces can accommodate. Take that odds against me! HAHAHAHA!). So, for the foreseeable future that is what you will be seeing from me. I hope you enjoy. I hope you critique. I hope you hate it even. I'll be posting what art I do, but for the meantime it looks like it's going to be mostly bar napkins. Frankly I don't really care. This is what I can do for now and you'll have to all deal. Hope to hear from you all regardless. I'd love to see your recent workings and here goes:


Defiler of food:
Comfort is a cigarette and a bump from a friend. I look for love, but who can love the mess that I've become. I don't blame anybody. I made my cake/bed and I will sleep and eat in it. I just want people to know that this is what happens. You become a desert maker and defiler of food.

I know:
I've been with a million girls. I know; it's nothing to brag about but,
Every once in a long while you have that one. Well, most people do.
For me: I've had that one. The one where when you make love everything is perfect. Dream-like. You wake up and thank god that it's real because she's laying next to you.
My girl who fulfilled everything for me. No matter my preference, fantasy, fetish, ect... she transcended genres. Made my dreams come true with every movement of her body. Even in argument I knew she was the one for me. Maybe even more-so then. The fire behind her eyes when she yelled was like a nuclear bomb dropped on my heart screaming to me how much she loved me as much as the first screamed that this bomb will fuck you up Japan.
Every look from her was like looking into infinite truth about myself. I know I lie to myself to protect myself, but there was no denying then. It was real or no deal. I loved it. I loved her.
The knock out punch of her eyes, a rip off from a beautiful writer Chris Kennedy, but none the less true. Despite everything, despite her hatred, despite her everything, she will forever be the one who got away.

What might hve been lost...