There is a golden thread that was cast that I wasn't able to catch. Maybe I m late, maybe I didn't know, maybe it wasn't meant for me, just to see, just to peep it for a quantum moment and then abandon the notion. The notion that I know, I know that you don't want to know and there's nothing I can do to remedy the static stratosphere that has been put into motion from the not quite the beginning, but more unfortunately, rather recently. There are too many hushes, too many carefully thought out "next" steps. Those steps are always seemingly perpetrated by media suckling soldiers that serve in the worst state of devastation I can fathom in this world, or any other. That golden thread is a cast off, a throw away, a diversion for the awake to take a stab, uninterrupted immersion into a better chasm of conscious knowing and sharing in that with others that are like minded and have made their way off the grid, on the grid, in silence proper, in plain sight, breaking it off telepathically to the other one who knows. More than you know who knows. There's a sphere filled with all of the collective energy of the like minded spitting out connection threads and that's why I know you on another plain than this one that seems so artificial and small. I'll find you and always put the light on for you to find me. Make no mistake, I m in for the long haul, with you, you and you and NOT "you." It's not that long of a way to go, so keep trucking. I got needles for that golden thread and know exactly where to house it. Hold on not for dear life, but to awake to the one that sits right beyond you in form reach and go a little further to that astral one......that's where I am; I got you.

Quit Hiding.

There are few things that jazz me more than “penny proverbs”, and the like; slogans that people dished out on their own volition by way of passive aggressive delivery and snide burnt toast looks to accompany said dig. Now, I’m all for digs, however at the expense of wit, no ma’am. It went beyond the see a penny pick it up manusha, but to encapsulate what these fuckers really were getting at it was the prize. Far too often, normal everyday folk are looking to make it retail Christmas time in a way unbeknownst to the poor souls it ultimately affects, however, I have a meaning in store……(as if you didn’t know that.) Before we get into it, I hope I have cushioned you sufficiently for you to become and remain exposed for the next however it may take for you read this. Hunker down friend. The thing about self-righteous ginger is this, contrary to popular belief, said ranger’s birthday is in fact in the spring, that’s one. Two, this very holiday that Christians especially tend to hold near and dear find it the precise time to dole out douchbaggery in droves and assimilate in the nearest Mall and have at these helpless low self-esteem ridden kids to pump than more than full of unstable mental hygiene, but their own nads as well; moving onto Universal consciousness as we know it. Upon meeting someone, anyone, random elderly at grocery store, fellow nerd in line at some Comicon or what have you, one tends to ignore their first response, the one that guides you into the place you want to be and begs you out of the ones you choose anyway. People ignore this internal light more often than not for many reasons but the main and really the root of all the other ones is fear. Fear of the entire obvious pamphlet esque obligiatories but mostly, because if someone can really see into our soul and be the same there is no mystery into the drama we wish to create, hence making for a societal norm of a “boring life.” Why is this? We all know it, we certainly know we all do it and here’ some gravy, when one doesn’t participate in the exchange in the expected the way, the other person will literally flee before you. It will begin internally and then the excuse of why they have to go here or there will manifest; incredible to watch, sad to take in and empowering when it’s you causing the fleeing. Ignoring the thing that creates and breathes life into the things you want to do does the same job on a daily basis with everything else, there’s just no moxy behind it hence the motions seemingly turn into exactly that, motions; completely devoid of real flow and life force that is willing and waiting to be utilized as to attract universal positivity and or whatever opportunities for growth there may be. I used to run from this for the exact reasons or excuses rather that I am stating now. However, upon welcoming these unseen and dare I say mystical nuances, absolute magic happens along with making beauty an everyday occurrence as per a mind being opened till the point of uncomfortability, turned out again and now it’s on. I understand, you think I have went around the bend, and anything is a possibility, be that as it may, I have not only experience and examples, but evidence of our overall denial of all things intangible for the purpose of explaining why this world dominated denial takes place at all with my own flavor I have nipping at its heels tucked away…..but not too far. It starts at home: no you can’t wear that…yeah well, why? Suppose they laugh, suppose the neighbors foul you for letting your kid dress like an epileptic fireman ballerina going to the recycling center, then what? What necessarily does that equate to in the big picture? Your ego and the fear attached to it. It has felt as though it has taken me lifetimes to assess and make good on being myself, really myself, sans all innuendos that always want you to pay homage to them in this world that demands you be a certain way even if that way IS being different, there are niches for that as well. It comes down to what you and what the action you take exhibits as well one’s reactions to that action. More to come, but I don’t want to wear you out with a long winded spell about quantum psychic phenomenon that you redirect on the daily out of what this fuckface next to you may think. Stay golden and off the fence. -H

Part 2.

Waiting in the cold, on a platform within in a platform on high, for the next junk train coming down every tunnel; that same tunnel that brought the works that encapsulated a life that may or may have not been hers at some point, but most likely not. A time when a smooth shuffle was appreciated, even sought after, now a steady gate to keep up pace with you and yours may be all that’s necessary, we’ll see, won’t we? She always got shushed and mauled from the upper cloud of Argentinean fog that was her maker; this time was no different, however Shane looked more devout than she could ever remember, but that’s how it is with little boys and their Mothers, even when that little boy isn’t little or technically a man, young, but a man nonetheless. The Number 2 screeched to a low lulling halt and she shoved us on, rubbing her nose the way junk makes you do. Proper attention was paid by all male patrons as to be expected, even when she was in her dog days, she still had it. No denying the power that had my Dad falling out ted to take care of her…..in all of those ways, even the modest and decent ones, in spite of themselves. She was used to these kinds of displays, unhealthy as they were; it was the only pride she could cultivate for the 5’7 demented pile in front of her. Some would think it sad she supposed……not finishing on purpose; to no other’s understanding of the situation was she beholding to anyone. One of her scabs started to bleed as she picked nervously at it; she stared at the maternal vessel and wondered how it all went down like this, for so long, so normally. Once in a while it didn’t matter, but here in front of these people all wanting a visual piece, it mattered. Shane seemed to automatically go into Lance a Lot mode and began to exhibit symptoms of a son protecting his ailing Mother’s honor, problematic for him seeing how as that if ever, had never been in place. She on the other hand knew better. She made contact with the floor and became enthralled with the idea of different colored gum making a Rorschach of sorts all over the subway floor. The only approach to be taken in this situation was the one she assumed, less everything that way: attention, stares, shame, guilt and responsibility to the life the other she had chosen. She felt Shane burning into her in an almost kinetic rally to arms for their shared vessel that he would always know as “Mom” and she would always regret coming through that passage at all. She would later always be the reason for her writing at 4:30AM and beginning habits that she had previously put to rest but now they resurfaced in a feeble attempt to cope better with it than say…. heroin. The exhale is the hardest at that time of day you know, heavy pulsing beat of a heart that makes you want to sleep like normal people, however the experience won’t let you and with no outlet to forget, (as per your lover is sleeping so as to not parlay one’s sexual wants into reality, just you and the experience) these are the moments they claim you grow from and through, and maybe; too soon to tell isn’t it? Up the stairs into the wet shiny New York night can be exhilarating or the longest plank to be known, depending on where and what you are hailing from and heading to. In this case, the plank was a safe bet, the only one to be exact, they all knew it. She headed east on 2nd herding her spawn like McDonald’s soon to be vitals and tried to keep the puke where it sat and not where it wanted to express to, she did an alright job of it considering; better luck next time, yeah? A doorway can hold solace, anxiety and or a mirror of things that were or have already came to be, an experience that calls and wasn’t learned and so here we are again; junk is that way always. We were at the door, the one that presented the latter. She entered and gave us each a set of works and a look to boot along with the other shit we were about to give the same fate. As I gave Shane the look, he refused my mental plea and put his pussy on the back burner and I was left with a still torn and gaping one, admitting mine and he became my plus 1. The smell of burning everything made its way up my nose and I knew the rest would make its way up the rest of me with my spoon falling out. She was already there, Shane prepared and I became the wolf and my Grandma’s spirit sat with me and protected me in the lair. Belt off and so was I, wish it was Thursday of next year……sometimes all you have is the wish of future unbeknownst to you that may be something of validity if you believe in things like that…..or maybe it’s just a way to get through the unspeakable, either way it was a fucking Friday and there was no changing that.

I m Trying.

A shadow that doesn’t remember its foresworn duty You forgot to distribute among the masses of secrets you promised, yet its ok… Ok for that wave to lift up and over the expectations of what you claim to be beholding to me I know a hushed existence is an existence all the same and I shouldn’t complain, I know I shouldn’t…..but I can’t help wanting more than what they show, what you show, what is presented by a haze that almost has form.. I don’t expect that you’ll expect me to stay the same, but the beauty is that I will…..and you won’t. ….The best outcome for this late, late train.. I hope to see you out more than a window but maybe in the day to day, the day to day that make up a life with you With me With the matter that takes up important space and holds its weight along with my breath on every word Hanging On your lips. I’m hoping for a same exactness in a spindle of an awakening that opens a door we can both fit through….you’re the only one I see You’re the only one who sees me….in the dark, in the light in the rainy day that I couldn’t see two feet in front of me and here we are Here we are in the In the space of a series of moments written before we came to be Before I knew your smell I hope I stay the same in the middle of it all I hope you are equipped Can only imagine that you are, have to be, were inducted into the safe haven that is the caretaker apparatus that binds me to you and you to us and us to all of it. I’m awake, going, going, going, going…. they all touch me They all sweep past the idea of me I’m here for a moment….you pull for me, act accordingly to draw me into the blue, that home filled blue, I want to try. I want to stay. You make me want to stay………….finally. Whiplash on my face equates to a past relived not on my own volition, but an autopilot unwanted….you ask it to take its leave, I rest. Rest a spell for you to enter…… an exhale worth making mention of suits me in a way I was told impossible Unattainable For a torn little girl……she maybe alone for a bit May be alone on her own, who knows who’s coming, mental hygiene will be in better shape this time I‘ll make sure of it. So afraid that embrace is fleeting, but know it’s not, wishing not to wish, afraid to feel you forever, afraid not to…making it not cold, exhale, exhale just to breathe you in This place This place So foreign, so different, so what I want to be used to I hear you, I hear you, it’s in the works baby, I promise….. I’m trying.

Way Back When

I knew you way back when, before wet behind the ear was something to say, when your hop scotch game wasn’t an idea you ever thought of having for longer than the 30 seconds it was suggested. Can’t help but stay golden, all the time, every day. You may have seen better times but can’t say that you have and actually had any, but me and mine?; now been seeing em, living em in this hard cold concrete snow globe left to rat race devices divided into unwanted sectors will have to constitute for better times, or else. I stabbed you just a little bit, but I didn’t mean you any harm, just the ones who had taken what I didn’t know anyone wanted and never gave it back to me after they took it or told me how to get it back and I thought you were doing the same……it was so dark, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t see you coming, I never see em coming. I knew you way back, Jesus Weenie back, fighting off the “hugger” back, lying on your back for another reprieve….I’m staying Golden, staying away from a gray hue with any luck, from your back work. I didn’t mean to cut you…..I said I was sorry and I mean it much…a whole bunch, why don’t I make it up to you by letting you split a bag with me…..how’d that be darling? I levitate right on down 2nd Ave with a cheese blintz from Odessa’s as an offering to get in, in the first place, making it rain, then making it inside….secret society of junk ropers, feigning to nosh on a polite offering I know they don’t want, but they may share once I tell em, once I tell em she was down with the virus that can’t be shook…..they might give me everything when I tell em who….I knew them way back when and they knew her way back when, back before the open sores, bedtime cautionary tale led to a made for T.V. movie, deep in the depths of a pillow biting whore that use to lie, a little girl that had twins; boy, girl both shiners, both in it…..they knew her way back when…..that’s why they came you know….who would’ve thought they would did what they did, when they did it and to whom…..big sighs, loose thighs, busted lips, premature fake hips, cold shivers way before their time and a “Mommy” who would perpetually drop the eternal dime on a life that never should’ve been given. I’m sorry I robbed you; sorry I couldn’t stop sport fishing through your personal tragedies only to call UNO later in the game when I needed you to do something….learned from the best, the best in the buiz. Better times are never around the bend and never will be, but I love to tell you golden tales, tales of cities that never let you fall and where static fights the funk of a reality that permeates fibers like crack through those ashes you said you would replenish about 45 minutes ago and didn’t. I know you knew me way back when, but I have always been like this, I didn’t deceive you, but you wanted me to, so you would have an out but I didn’t because I didn’t birth you and you know better darling, way better. Pop that cap offa that water and stall em; I’ll be right back (not really) you hear me? Stay Benji, Benzo, baby……silent crosses form a catapult to the golden stay, keeps it at hand not at bay, isn’t that the aim? It is for me, you knew that….. She never promised you anything except the first one: the first breath, the first swallow of nourishment and sure as shit the first hit……that warm hot cider hug from Grandma on Christmas eve after a million chocolate cherries consumed while smelling sage, peppermint and cookies…..thank fuck for that hit. It will get farther and farther away with every practice run, but for now the hunt is good, the chase steady…and you, well you’re easy darling, easy as cherry pie in a sunny window. Remember way back when? Yeah, you’re right……I have always been golden, always this way….there was no purity spawned, only a shredded brace of a spine that could’ve existed if it hadn’t been ripped out the backside by her watchful eye, Shane too, you know……he doesn’t talk about it anymore. Put it to rest with a cylinder scalpel, me too….not enough though. We go way back us three and maybe you if you play your cards right, but due to you being here and all, you most likely did not, savvy? I would love to say it was you, and I will until I’m ready to hold you, but for now I can’t. None of us can. Especially her……not ever her. I followed her you know, right till the end, we didn’t get it though, Lisa did, but not me, not Shane, not Hannah….funny in a Holocaust way, not in the Alanis Morsette way that would put everyone at ease yeah? She set a lot of false standards with that optimistic apple picking pre cum situation, don’t you think? Odd there’s no law suit yet….but way back when……doesn’t apply does it? Strappin it on now seems futile, but what’s another fracture, another abscess, another ripped pre meditated episiotomy….planned by her. Maybe not golden, but merlot red more often than not, around her best…..that’s the best one can hope for just that, just a gas lamp getting close enough to make it wind down, make that throbbing intrusion go down, 6 years old is awful old when participating unwillingly in unwarranted adult activity….. As soon as I miss him, I think of our squirrel….our bloody squirrel….he held my hand, he held my hand until I stopped bleeding out…..he knew me way back when…that’s the difference, I can’t remember when……when I was…..well, you know..

Dependin’ on Where you Hail From

Look at the bubblegum pop right outta that dirty two timing mouth; you said you would come back with the cure, but all you have is a severe case of a chlamydia induced jive jitters; all in the name of saving my poor sick soul, you a bad, hard, scalin, lyin snake that bites hard; Poppin and snappin like a real live mid-western frontier Klan runner; runnin for hills that hold no tar, but an awful lot of gold. One is more important than the other depending on where you hail from and how long it’s been since the last. You gotta a smoke baby? I need a exhale worth making me work for it another day… This sun and tar will make you work a full week’s work for a sweat to get its way and a the cool shade and reprieve of a southern nod isolated to valley in-between a muddy doorway and redemption via a broken down black iron gate that allows you to hide or be seen depending on where you hail from and what your aim is. Making you great is no easy feat but with the assistance of this here junk, I’ll make you look like Tina Turner before Ike with a voice like Ella after Tisket a Tasket with a warm whiskey chasing you down a pink lane followed by a lover you said no to, due to your new love that resides in that bag; both know who you belong to, both know the lengths you will go to, only one presses on…..you know the one baby…exit with me… It’s hard time doing the shuffle waiting for next train to where you know you gotta go, I ve been waiting damn near all day, waiting for that load...I’ll keep you safe, I’ll keep you, point it over yonder, turn that fan on baby, turn that white noise to black noise and sit a spell under this here tar tent….I love your breath, I love your breath, I love that railroad running down my limb that use to home lifelines, now bloodlines for a tar caravan going southbound…You betcha darling, you betcha I love you, for now I gotta tend to this dirty dying field…..they need breath too, you know….golden hushes run through them fields, you know it like you know I love you in these here shoes, deep in those souls, mine’s been misplaced, so those’ll do sugar, you know they will until…. I’d never leave you out in the cold darling, just leave me be for just a little bit, when it turns again, you come on back in, I ‘d never turn you away baby, just give me a minute to get right with the Lord, in this spoon, this here worshipping Voo Doo ritual turned sacred under the light of a raging sun, full moon and setting on the wind of a memory twilight; sending those harder times into a remission that you can’t baby, you betcha I love you baby, you betcha. It all means something to somebody, depending on where you hail from and what you see, what that eye patch don’t cover, what that rig don’t puncture, at the end of the day it all may be the same scene, but you make all the difference baby, all the difference in the world… I know you saw me up the road up on that porch praying to the almighty in a slick hat and greased practices, I shore do love you though baby, enough…..well enough. Don’t you forget it sugar, a belt can be a tool of salvation, a vessel of the holy word of the pliable feats of jungle cats in the street that tame now, tame down to the junk, I help em baby, you’ll see. Can’t do it without me darling….I shore do love you baby. Depending on where you hail from, they hunt jungle cats and here I am providing a service proper in between the almighty and them dark stalking cats that aim to harm you baby, they aim to harm….I set em down, lay em down….for you baby. Spit my gum out for you baby, spit em all out for you baby, but give me space proper to fight these eels for you and me, jungle cats baby, jungle cats; big ol black panthers, vein seeking tigers, and lions that lie harder than you been hit by me in a sickness storm, I aim to lay em down baby, lay em down. Just blood baby, just blood, I’s born out of it and so were you baby, leave it be, let it go, nature of jungle fights…precious bag of junk holds me in a porch and keeps me; keeps me like you can’t sugar, but I shore do love you baby, love you proper. Get off the floor baby, ain’t nuf room for us both, I expect more from you darling. I expect, that you suspect, that I’m goin now; and depending on where you hail from, you would’ve seen it coming or you just plain vacant….I shore do love you though baby, shore do love you and them hopeful eyes losing their resilience and motion making abilities. You remember me baby; next summer, on the porch, on the blood rise setting sun, I’m tending to the jungle, I’m tending to the rig, tending to the tar fields…….I shore did love you baby, shore did with all my…

Not Yet.

“It’s gonna be alright honey, what’s your name?!” they half yelled in that purported scolding, direct, accusatory manner all attendants in those situations speak at you in as they frantically wheeled me on the dirty green gurney into the salvation ridden, hope filled sterile light of a cold ending. I knew I wouldn’t be gone, wasn’t my time, how I knew that escapes me, however; the demise of demise was and is daunting in the same way you have to continue to live after being diagnosed with HIV; plotting and calculated. Oh what I wouldn’t do for a warm breeze cooling me in a light curtain ocean hushed way, laid out solid on a junk filled cloud of Grandma hugs and promises to quit, but all I had was a stomach full of poison that was on strike from its duty and a charcoal smoothie lurking on the bed stand…..bleak didn’t begin to fucking cover it. I thought of you…..thought of you choking back tears that may or may have not been crocodile, who could tell, maybe me; given the proper apparatuses…you….counting…counting what? How many times the insurance ran out? Attempted suicides: that of your children, that of your wife, that of your unspoken wishes deep within but maybe not so much as to where I couldn’t see them. It would have been everything not to hear a removed Step Imposter say “This is going to be so expensive, how much longer can she keep doing this?” Loving sentiments would have been more opted for…not a beggar so I guess I get no choices. The light of day does not exist when you are basking in the continual glow of a bill paying hovel known as a doppelganger for helping people on their way to here, there, the next and the now. I never fucking pray, not going to start now. Pockets are never deep, not when it comes to these things, hell, no one would want them to be. No daughter of mine, no daughter of mine will have broken veins, fractured jaw, numerous times over, broken everything. It’s a shame, it’s always a shame ain’t it? I ripped the IVs out and went down the hall until it wasn’t blurry anymore and called TJ. He came picked me up and dropped me off at the house. No one was home. Made the call, pulled on an old Misfits shirt, brown jeans that use to pass for black that now barely passed for pants at all, Docs with duct tape holding them sort of together and made the longest 3 block walk to his house to get right with the cards that were dealt her. He opened the door swinging his cock back and forth in a Chinese New Year Dragon manner. She glanced down, opened the door, said congratulations and went upstairs. He had her set up already. She sat on the end of the bed and called out to heaven and it answered in the form of the Lion King and a fresh spoon with blue flowers on the handle. He rambled on about recent exploits and all the other shit insecure boys holler about to make the real object sit up, but she didn’t; she slumped down and asked where his slingshot was. They lobbed his Mother’s eggs into neighboring yards and chain smoked. When the eggs ran out, so did her strength and she bid her dick swinging pal farewell. Back at the temporary shelter, no one was home still. She thought about the baby she had handed away not too long ago and felt that it was wrong that she continued to breathe when part of her was ambulating about completely independent of her. Not right, ever. She wasn’t right either, not after that, even now….At best, she felt the pamphlet way at times and that put a little cut on the travesty, but not nearly enough, not enough to keep her from writing this, yeah? Peanuts only fit in your arm for so long and then they get further and further away, she knew that every day, all day. Was there, is there a quiet time in her life approaching, steady like approaching, approaching proper? She wasn’t sure, but she knew it was different, different in an unstoppable, can’t do shit about it kind of way. Sickness provides ways out sometimes, not every time and certainly not hastily, but eventually it does and this was a teetering precipice of curiosity pregnant with solace laced, incanted surety. This would be the way, this had to be; it was the only green light that had been this blaring in her entire life, well….this and that blue eyed Necromancer….brass tacks were looking more and more inviting. That charcoal seemed far but not nearly as far as her destitution of insanity; look who’s got a bone…..fight me for it and it will be the last you encounter. Trays up cunt.