Ocean of Trash.

Since everyone else has their’ hands out –
patting other backs,
ill-humored wise cracks,
“Well Done, Bad Ass!”…
let me be sure that I’m sure –
to fit into the mass;
to expel –
all that goes unwell
as I pass,
I notice the line of faceless blood vessels –
waiting along the tracks,
that make a body intact,
“Hello? Anyone home?”…
open the fucking door –
to the last-ditch,
burnt bitch –
mysterious panic hatch,
the Gods have not yet left me alone on my knees –
begging for scraps,
starved of the pats to my back,
“Get up and walk, dumbass!”
it is Life, itself –
just ONE great, long pass;
through one Hell
in an ocean of trash.

Outings.

Me 'n The Orphan

Me ‘n The Orphan

I’ll give it to the guy, he’s patient as dead elephant when it comes to my essentially dragging him around behind me aimlessly, during the grips of a random expeditious episode on my part. He usually seems quite content in just silently trailing, hands in his Pendleton pockets…it takes him at least an hour to even chime in with something like, “Uhhhh, should I Google Map it?”

What a trooper, the lil’ shit.