Easy Breezy Covered Up Girl


Yeah, bad breath, I am feeling shallow because at one point I would kiss you if you just munched on cigarettes and booze, things change as thoughts randomly rearrange, and so you know it is just words, in the beginning until something catches my eye, a smile, a lie and it’s off to the races to put love through its paces. Petty boy turned blue, cut up feelings not all that sits and stews, but blessed are those who warp English, to wrap intention behind an opaque veil. Often mislabeled it’s got to be easier to just fit in, worn out sneakers reveal a lot of miles or a lot of creeping, camouflaged ether binges, love me, hate me, spite me, fight me. Can’t say I don’t mean something to you. I want some much needed silence, the lost souls you are berating are asleep inside my head, getting in as many zzz’s as they can before God kicks them out.

I am a scab picker, I am an echoed grinner, I am a kill the pain away lover and a religious sinner, I’m a joker, I’m a pack a day smoker, I am a midnight through 11 PM toker- by toker I mean junkie. Just went and ruined any bit of credibility, and I am okay with all of it. In this process of aligning words and actions, there are indeed struggles, which are why words I speak differ slightly from what I write, or type. Might want to add a few words to my prayers so these blogs clean up a bit, put a little shine on them so that no one misses the point. Scary shit, I feel incredible, something inside me healed, completely, in a moment of the worst imaginable circumstances, that ultimate, gut wrenching prayer left my lips, but it came from deep inside, not my mind- “God—-PLEASE, HELP ME.”

That thing, my head, well, if you read this blog often enough, it doesn’t always come correct. I am an addict. I have a mind that loves to get high, even though I know it ruins me, shot by shot, I lose any shred of goodness I have rediscovered, I can’t see truth from bullshit, the good old ‘restless, irritable, and discontented’ – yeah, I read that book, endeavor to live that book, that’s my head, the one that clogs all conscious contact from God, call him whatever, group of drug addicts (I know that’s technically Goda), good orderly direction, grace on demand, okay I made that last one up maybe, but funny thing is, it’s true too, all I need to do is open my eyes and be thankful for the little things.

Ok, I know some people are going to think this is a ghost writer filling in for Mike, but, I am thankful that I can say every blog prior to the 2014 section, I was high, and everything since I’ve been back, I have been clean. 92 days, in a row. There’s this section in that book, way too autobiographical, that defines me, and so many others like me, the cliché Dr.Jekyll & Mr. Hyde analogy, yet the way it is explained sends chills down my spine, raises the hairs on my arms.

Abridged, sometimes paraphrased, and with a junkie slant, I give you:

‘He does absurd, incredible, tragic things while getting high…he has a positive genius for getting high at exactly the wrong moment.’

Personal acquaintances, can debate the next sentence at length, but again, I earned those opinions and judgments for the wrongs I put people through,

‘He may be one of the finest fellows in the world, but let him shoot dope & forbid speedball, he always becomes disgustingly & even dangerously anti-social…he often possesses special abilities, skills, uses them to build a dream life, get a wife, etc, then destroys it by getting high.’

Ironic a book I never considered reading because it was for a group I felt I didn’t belong to, alcoholics, is now my favorite page turner, and yeah, I do substitute accordingly like above, knowing full well alcohol and me don’t mix at all either. They did autopsies of homeless people’s brains out in San Francisco I think, and a researcher asked how these guys afforded heroin all the time, as the brain’s opiate receptors were covered in residue seen in heavy opiate addicts. The answer was they weren’t junkies, they were alcoholics, alcoholics who get the same warm and fuzzy I did shooting dope, and in the end, none of it matters, bottom line I am the problem, not what I choose to stick in me, all in a vain attempt to escape reality.

Maybe I should get back to the ad above, maybe not, since it paints predatory the females of the species. “We’re not saying using Chlorodent will stop your husband from looking at other pretty girls, but…it will make your goodbye kiss work for, not against you.” See, men get thrown under the bus too, since it’s indeed scientific fact, biology being the discussed discipline, we gawk at every sexy passerby wearing anything, or is it everything is, skintight. We all suck.

The ‘Ave’ on Delray Beach affords multiple eye-f… never mind. Not that it’s any better, but in my new found spirituality, I relabeled those mental undresses a felony, eye r… yeah, better left unsaid, just hinted, even if it’s right in your face, and saying: yeah, I am just a guy, can’t help it, that carries all the weight of my dandelion seeded promises, still out there riding in the wind, the same lame excuse, I am a junkie, I can’t help but lie, cheat and steal. Clever covers conceal barely anything these days, and I should know, sat outside a coffee shop for an hour…dulled my imagination. A lot of reality screwing my thoughts up, to the point of pure vaporization, no wait, smells like vanilla & sandalwood, that’s the cool kid from a few blogs ago, blowing blankets of fog over my viewpoints, wrong…vantage points.

Funny thing is, bring it full circle, it was always about having gum on hand after those Newport breaks. Like I can forget you, that sans breath freshener, I wouldn’t give two shits, your lips are always welcome to meet mine, but as Ben Harper sings, “you my friend are nowhere to be found, and it’s so hard to do, and so easy to say, sometimes, sometimes you have to walk away….”

Don’t like when of the 3000+ songs on random, something like that is playing when my thoughts revolve around her. Or when I look at a title I wrote, typed, whatever, at 4:30, makes sense 6 hours later once the stream of sanity becomes a drip. Might need a new washer to stop that waste of water, because the oceans became so grand one drop at a time, and while there is some inside joke to that, which makes it funny to 30 of us, there is truth, gratitude saves me, it always puts life in proper perspective. Nothing really seems random right now, and the past gels perfectly into today.

If we met and we loved, I am grateful for all the beautiful times shared. I remember the moments fondly, no matter the outcome. The past can’t poison me today, and my crystal ball is all filled with that dude’s glycerin vapors that smell like pina coladas, I really don’t get smoking fruity nicotine sugar. Customize a vape, create your own flavored stimulant, then get paid for doing fog effects for the Tool show, yes, tool. How hideously off the tracks has this train traveled? A lot of alliteration today, probably the Redline, Triple Berry (you need to follow this closely so nothing gets missed, missing sucks), still waiting on the first sponsor drop, wonder if I can smoke the stuff? Note to self: I have no idea what I am talking about, just what I am avoiding by a random, there’s that word again, let’s use haphazard, yeah, exactly what I am trying to evade with haphazard ramblings because truth is I miss you. I am going to enjoy today, I am going to pray you wave the white flag before time grows weary of keeping you company. I will be there, when you walk into one my future todays, having no idea what to say. Please stop, please stay, please don’t leave me with only yesterdays.



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