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I woke up today.. Simple..

You can read this and learn a bit about me, learn how I define a certain “Saying” or skip to the end and read the line that makes me who I am and how I learned to smile in hard times.. Carry on.

Everyday you wake up is a chance to right some wrongs, to apologize or to say “I love you” to someone you may have been afraid to say it to before.. Smile at a stranger and possibly change their path from sad to “Things will be ok”.. Start that dialogue with someone you find interesting and maybe they’ll become your other half, “The One”..

Last night we went to sleep a little bit older, a little bit wiser.. Today we woke, one might say re-born, into the universe to try again. To do our best or to do what we think is right.. Whether that be making someone laugh, or holding someone’s hand for the last time as they exit this plain for another..

I hear people say all the time, “Being me isn’t easy”, being anyone isn’t easy. We all have “Issues” or “Problems”.. Things we don’t readily discuss with just anyone.
Me?, I’ll talk about anything at anytime. Why? because it’s who I am. And it isn’t easy. I don’t complain about it, I don’t whine to people about how disgustingly bored I am with “Normal” stuff. Or how there was a sale on shoes at Nordies but I couldn’t get away for lunch to buy any. That didn’t ruin my day.. Things that ruin my day are things I can’t change, things that would be considered an “Ineluctable destiny”, an unstoppable force. We all have opinions and beliefs.. I have mine, some are valid to only me. Wanna know why?.. Ask.

In my life I’ve seen a lot of pain. From a very young age (2 years) I’ve felt things considered unimaginable to most. Things that were set upon me by what some would refer to as a “Monster”.. We all have that, you can’t deny it. The Monster under the bed or in the closet. That noise in the night that stops our heart and paralyzes us with fright, unable to call out to our protector, mom or dad..

My “Monster” was alive, mine was 6’2″ and 210 lbs. Upset at the world with a desire only to inflict a fierce amount of unholy rage upon his youngest child, Me.
Leaving the other two be, they being the Italian princess, and the oldest, well he was untouchable. for 14 years I endured that mans wrath, I took my stitches and bruises for one reason, a reason that kept me from committing suicide at age 8 (First attempt at 6), My mom.. But that’s another story..

I feel it my humanly duty to use certain gifts, attributes born of the pain and horror that was my childhood to help make others realize that it isn’t “So bad”.

I learned to not follow the rule “Live in the moment”.. Why?.. Those that do will sometimes find that when it all crashes, when it ends, the life they grew so fond of, that the pressure of beginning anew, starting over is too much and they become so wildly depressed, so distraught that a bullet or a bottle is the only way out. They turn to drugs, they wanna force their pain and anguish onto others as they feel they don’t deserve ALL or any of what’s happened.

I don’t necessarily plan ahead all the time. I’m not perfect, I just know what could happen, as many do.

Most are selfish, they wanna keep to themselves, not talking about how they feel, or what might have happened to them at a young age. They feel they have grown past it.. Dealing with ones “normal” youth is typically a disaster.. While dealing with that youth and having to hide traumas, physical, mental, emotional abuses from those that may further your torture and from those who could stop it. Being afraid sucks.. I was in constant fear, pain, growing up. Whether it was being sent into the backyard of a neighbor only to be surprised by two bullies and forced to fight, or waking in the middle of the night to a man who was suppose to be your protector, your hero, standing over you with a knife, telling you that you don’t deserve to live and thrusting that cold steel into your guts, then walking away while you sob quietly because if you made a sound and woke your mom or anyone else, there would most certainly have been hell to pay. As if laying in your bed, bleeding out with a 6 inch knife in your stomach wasn’t hell enough, well, for me it wasn’t.. Believe me, it could have gotten worse, and it did, over and over again.

I stopped feeling pain when I was 5 years old.. Already having had my jaw broken, fingers snapped and thrown into the brick fireplace mantel more times than I could count. Life on Powers Road wasn’t ideal. But what I did notice at that age, I was developing a sense, a sense that would drive me to keep going, to stay on this earth. I remember the night it happened.. I was getting my head crushed in a drawer, being told by my brother (Poway Fire Captain, Bill Clark) that if I moved or made a sound… In his words.. “I’ll tell dad you broke something of mine so I can laugh at your screams”.. It was at that moment, I smirked.. I felt better.. I wasn’t afraid, I almost turned around and kicked him but I was more afraid of my dad so I stayed put and laughed at things for 4 hours.
I made things up, I laughed.. I remembered the first time I yelled at my dad and called him names to get him away from my mom.. “You’re a fuckin dick!!”.. He beat the shit out of me for 20 minutes.. I laughed.. I felt better.. In that 4 hours of being stuck with my head in a drawer, my first life changing breaths, Humor heals.. And it was that sense that saved me, saved me from being just like him, or my brother.. Saved me from hanging myself in the rafters. Today, I hope to save others..

I found that laughter literally saves.. I built on that.. Through school, bad days.. I laughed.. I made myself smile even in the face of certain agony I looked at him and said.. “Give it your best shot, asshole”.. Then went to my happy place as he laid into me.. I could smile because I knew he wasn’t hurting my mom.

As the years past and the injuries mounted.. All total by age 8, but continuing on through age 16, courtesy of the man called dad.. 11 broken bones, 43 stitches from being thrown head first into objects that were considered NOT bodily friendly.. Being slashed across the chest with the same blade he used to open the dog food bag, So not sanitary.. Being stabbed in the lower guts with the knife mom used to cut my food.. Who does that? .. In the backyard and hearing the words, “You’re lucky you lived this long, you little bastard”, turning around to look, BLAM!!(sound of a gunshot,.38), looking down at my leg, then back at him as he laughed and said.. “Oops”.. I passed out, don’t remember anything funny from that.. And it being my birthday, I got an RC car, he decided to make it known he was not happy about the amount of $$ spent on the car, so he broke it.. I then said.. “You need to hurry up and die, you fuckin asshole!”.. To which he replied.. “Oh yeah!! (breaking a beer bottle) we’ll see who’s gonna die”.. I think he might have said. “Unguard!” just before he slashed wildly at my body and connected at my shoulder, ripping 7 huge lines that should have been stitched but I had to deal with duct tape and toilet paper. He was a real tight ass.. And just so you know, my scars tell a whole different story than my tattoos do.

I like to talk, I like to share, it helps me, and, the spirits willing, it helps others.. I wanna know your story, I’ll tell you mine.. What you read up above, that was just the beginning.. If I have reached out, and you aren’t sure why.. I hope this helped a little. It’s because I care.. And for someone “special”, it’s because I wanna know everything.. Fear is a lie, all bad thoughts are inaccurate.. I made it out of that painful time, I learned, I healed, I made mistakes.. I do my best everyday..

Anyway I was trying to not talk a lot about my stuff, but it crept in a bit.. I apologize.
My reason for this was to maybe get some to realize that, things aren’t so bad.. It will get better.. I did.. I lived, that’s all I was concerned about.

Being alone, with nobody to help me, I made it through, by laughing, by teaching myself to “Roll (Laugh) with the punches”..

Wanna know more?, ask.. I’m here… Cheers.

by

Safe

Undue, rely, tentative, certain, purpose, pride, proud, happy, smile, cry, live, love and laugh. How long does one live with the fear before they allow themselves to pass stages into success? We fght, we struggle, we bind, bond and bury thoughts that hurt, cause ill, fright, manifest what we desire the least.

We all have that monster on our shoulder, some bigger than others. A weight so draining of energy and faith in self that we do what we can just to make it through the day. We self diagnose, self medicate, we get lost in the feeling it gives. Light, level, even, soft and safe. When you feel that hand slam across your face, causing sudden full alertness to the stinging pain.

I went into a deep place when that hand was doing its deed. Out to hurt, out to harm, out to make a point that when you think things might get better, they only get worse. We learn to compensate to stay even. Drugs, alcohol? What do you do when your 5? who do you tell, and how do you explain it? You don’t, the home is where that secret stays. Day in, day out was the same thing for years. Belts, hoses, belt buckles, knives, bottles, and once, a gunshot.

We live with the guilt, shame and stay silent. Take your beating, get ass fucked at 3am (4 times), wishing with each pump you were dead. This can’t be how life is, is it? I got used to things real quick. I had no safe place, no deadbolt, no door to keep him out. He had his way for 14 years (2-16). Snapped finger was his favorite, he would tell stand still or he’d make it worse. Grab a finger and he would twist. Three were compound fractured so of course a visit to the hospital was needed.

What happened son? You playing too hard? Let’s see what we have here. All while he stared at me, knowing I wouldn’t rat him out, he smirked and planned his next beating due to having to go to the hospital, $$$. He hated as he would say, “Wasting money on a waste of life like me. He was so pissed one time, he threw me out of the car and my mom almost ran me over. This was my father, this was my life.

I help heal others through these little notes, I made it, I am stronger than ever and expect no, “Sorry”. I am happy to have gone through all of the shit he heaped on me. I’m able to help so many people, make them feel worth, and not worthless. If you’re in a situation like that, walk away now. No matter how hard, get out. Please.

I know too many others that use or have used, become addicts to alcohol, drugs, or like me, Pain.. Hi, I’m Mike and I am a pain addict. 18 years harm free. I begged for a way out, silently. At age 9 I began to pray for his death, that took 7 years, and I was the one who dispatched him from this earth. I am not ashamed, I am not remorseful. This man got what he deserved, and once again I’ll say the last words he heard as he labored through his agonal breathing, “Rot in hell, Motherfucker”. And my story goes on.

 

by

Child of Rage

This is the back page of my book, should be out by next Summer.

 

I can remember the ambulance came, the paramedics took my father away, covered in blood and dazed from lack thereof. It was a cold day that morning in Chelsea Mass. That was the day, the first time I witnessed, the first time I remember seeing his rage. He had gotten upset with my mother and put his fist through a plate glass window, tearing the flesh from the bone and severing an artery. I watched as he pulled his arm quickly back across the broken glass, causing yet more damage to the already severely torn flesh. My mother was screaming,

“CALL AN AMBULANCE! FOR CHRIST SAKES SOMEBODY CALL AN

AMBULANCE!”

I was just 2 years old. I watched as they drove away, sirens blaring, my

Mind was racing. That moment stayed with me my entire life.

That day marked the beginning, a beginning that would not end until someone was    dead.

The United States, free? Yes. Land of opportunity? Yes.  The highest recorded cases of child abuse in the world? YES. If anything, this book will reach out, it will open your minds and your hearts to the plight of abused children throughout our nation, our world. My story, like many others, fell on deaf ears. No longer, from the age of 2 years to the age of 16 years, I was the object, the outlet, for one man’s violence. His rage consumed my entire childhood, a war was waged, and lines were drawn and often crossed.

This is my story…

by

Your own Voice..

Whether they speak ill or pure, the words of a thousand others will never be heard deeper than my own voice ~MJC~

I’ve felt pain deeper than most can imagine. I’ve been psychologically ripped apart and put myself back together. I’ve been physically battered, tormented and crushed, and I healed beyond any known levels of comparison. I’ve cut deep into my flesh hoping my soul would hear my silent screams. I was wholeheartedly aware from a very young age of the evil and mind fuck terrorism that my father so rigidly handed out. I was given a gift, that of a tortured soul where the only beating that occurs is in my heart.

Yes, I went through a period of self-harm, lost and confused as if unattached to any form of recognizable being. Many would take their shots, their digs, they would use me as a toy, to fuck, to play with, to rule and to toss aside when not needed or no longer necessary to their rise. Those voices, those touches, those tears at my flesh to get at this soul were all reflected, rejected by my own voice. My own voice would carry those messages of ill and coercion to my deepest darkest. I was in-fact responsible for the pain others handed me. I allowed it to my door, I allowed it entry and I allowed it to continue. But then one day, I stopped hearing those voices of ill and pure, they didn’t matter, for I was the one who accepted it, or rejected it. The power of “Will” is indeed strong in us all, but the power of fear is one of greater reaching significance.

We see something that scares us, we turn and run. We hear something that scares us and it continues to burrow deep until it changes us to the point we’re nothing but controlled, mind fucked drones. Fear has a hold that strangles the best of us, the best in us. It suffocates our core and drowns our imagination. So much so that we begin to shed that of adventure, zest, light, and freedom, for hurt, pain, and despair. We build upon what ills us, what makes us anxious and what causes the dark pressure to rise, leading us to that of a lust for pure release. A release that can only last so long before it needn’t be caged again. Living among us like a creature of habit, turning us from the smile we once enjoyed, into the faded shell of fears misguided child.

We remain this embodiment of fright and dread for as long as it takes, until we see just one thing, one light, one pair of eyes, hear one’s voice, the trigger that unleashes the wave of being you were meant to truly become. Days, weeks, months, years, destiny has no clock. We learn while we’re in this shadow, this condition, though we may not see it at the time, we are becoming that which escapes its cocoon a brand new force. Just one second, one text, one email, one image, one and only one thing will be the catalyst for your dispossession of the unpleasant emotional hell you’ve been confined within.

Never let go of that “One” thing. It is your wings, your fire, your freedom from the external voices and you’re key to the one and only voice that matters, yours. Carry on.

by

Because of you..

When does one pass through the end of knowing and begin the journey, the discovery of ones self? What does one need accomplish, happen upon, experience, feel, see, meet, lose, gain, share, or create in order to move forward? Are we told, shown, lured exposed, enchanted, addicted, enthralled, excited, followed, lead, betrayed, brought, pushed, pulled, coerced into our being?

I’m so lost in my mind, but it keeps me warm, it keeps me straight, it leads to the place where I find that smile, the feeling of utter peace. On my own, I reflect, I compare, I decide, I choose, I run, I hide, I keep, I beg for release. My sadness is that of incomparable depths. Yet all I know is happiness through the pain. From this pain, I have realized life. From the heat of a bullet, from the crack of a belt buckle, I find sanity. We change, we redirect, we go against that which pleads go no further. Pain is my enemy, pain is my best friend, pain has made me a monster, made me a savior, made me withdraw. Pain is a rabbit hole I will gladly go down. We discover strength, we’re meant not to nurture. We’re forced to use negatives in ways never imagined. His pain being thrust into my soul, ripping it from its wonder and driving it deep into a fire that would eventually forge a being like no other. His evil would train me, his evil would do the opposite, but that opposite wouldn’t come easy.

A burst of the universe, a cry from all souls to end. One second, one choice, the vibration was illuminating, the spatter, orgasmic. Shattered wills, a do over of the most violent kind. One life taken, one life given. Live every day, you only die once. Violence was my teacher, pain was my recess, fear my every meal, torture was my bedtime, lonely was my existence. In silence we do many things, contemplate, read, listen. My silence was suffering, the silent scream that was replaced with a smile. A strike to the head, a kick to the ribs, when I caught my breath, I laugh. The confusion was not long, I was saved. The pain was gone, the silence grew louder, the laughter never ending.

Pain, comfort, denial, want, need, desire.. Hurt me and I laugh, try to kill me and I ask for more, my happiness was my addiction. Do what you will, your strikes make me not bitter, but better. You think your beatings are causing harm, your beatings turn me on.. What happened to my mind? How does a broken bone provide immeasurable pleasure.. More more, keep it coming, is that all you have? Pussy.. Begging for his hand, a strike to the face, a concussion from the brick mantle. The sight of my own blood makes my dick hard, Motherfucker!! KILL ME!! DO IT!! You selfish, senseless, miserable FUCK!! END ME NOW!!

Your ways, your demeanor, your lack of emotion, your petty gripes against the world. You taught me everything with every one of your abuses, you showed me the world in your rape of my young body. You allowed me the education of your indignity. With each punch, kick, slice, stab, and slash upon my being, you gave me the key to life. In all of your disgraceful action, your wretched, deplorable existence, you managed to create me. You left this earth a scared, frightened individual. My gift was not your death, but your instruction, your training. You did everything you could to kill me, nearly succeeded on a few occasions. I took your instruction, and I used it. I did the exact opposite. Because of you, I cannot love, but I can share, I can impart, I can teach, I can care, I can heal, I can be me. I am 100% me. I am not one who can be manipulated, used, disrespected, and or fucked with. You taught me a discipline unlike any other. I was forced for years to accept your hand, your way of life. I am the opposite of you, I am not perfect, I do what I can with what I have, with my education, my experiences, my past, helping others heal from their past. Pain taught me a great many lessons, as did humor. Pain is what made me, pain is how I help. Without you, a lot less pain, because of you, a lot less pain.

by

My strength is yours..

I always tell people, “Learning is my kink”.. I’m not the smartest person, by far not the dumbest. Today I was thinking, “Been through a lot in this life; Pain, loss, more pain, goals reached, some dreams realized”. During this adventure I have taken many tests, and always go in fearing I’ll do poorly, mainly to psyche myself up. Today I realized, throughout these many assessment trials, the one I never feared, the one I will always be confident in passing, is when my strength is tested. My determination to conquer all that is my past and share that which made me who I am. I have no regrets, we all make choices, we grow forward or we grow bitter.

     I choose to continue learning why, and to help others heal, to help others past their past and rediscover that they are just as important, and just as special. I try to impart on to others that when we’re little, children, we don’t have that control to say no, stop, leave.. As we get older, that conditioning shapes who we’re to be.. A winner, loser, an addict, a CEO, a “Just existing” mouth breather. One of my fav. quotes (I have many).. “We are not born winners or losers, we’re born choosers”.. I do my best to help people realize they have a choice, that they no longer need to live in that shadow of the past that haunts them daily, or in some, a few, a lot of cases, they don’t understand why they live the way they do. Angry, settled, failed, lacking, astray, wandering as if they deserve the path they’re on. It isn’t, wasn’t your fault.

     Learning to recondition your brain isn’t about taking pills, a lot are told they’re depressed, or have anxiety due to an imbalance. Some fear this depression will swallow them, that all in all they are not capable of forming a view for a better future. I say BULLSHIT!.. I am special (Not Ed), I am important, and I matter.. To me. When I was 2 years old, my father broke my jaw. Today I thank him for that, and the 14 years of hell and torture that followed, leading up to the day I said no. Was it the right choice?, to me, yes it was, the only choice. For 10 years following that incident I worked, I learned, I experienced more pain and pressure than I had in those 14 years, the years I call “The pre-dawn to my existence”..

     I didn’t exist, I wasn’t worth it, I was worthless and deserved the pain, the broken bones, the bruises and the stitches. I was on this earth for one thing, protection. To keep from harm the one who brought me in to this world, The mom. Seeing her pain, the look in her eyes when he struck her down was more painful than any broken bone, or pain I could feel physically. By calling him names, by forcing him off of her and on to me, that was my duty. My soul, my mind grew to believe that this was it.. I would die protecting my mother, and I was ok with it. No 5 year old, no child, no person, should fear in the 100’s of ways I feared. I was so conditioned, that pain stopped for me, and it became a need. The song “The Rose”, holds meaning to me. The pain, the fight, the strength behind the words. With all that I am and all that I have accomplished, through all of the pain and all of the heartache of not being loved by the one who should have been my mentor, my friend, my father, I seek to end pain for others.

“The post-dawn me”… I will always carry the marks of my past, but I will not let them keep me there. That which I lost in childhood, I make up for now, and everyday. I use that loss, and make it a win, for so many others. That in hind sight, he, my father, gave me my greatest strengths, the tools in which to heal, to lead others through the darkness they’ve been trapped in for so long. To bring light to those who need help seeing it. To help with bringing back a smile that no longer needs to hide the pain behind it. To allow myself to leave a mark on someone that doesn’t end in a scar, but a belief in knowing that they are just as strong as I am, and can accomplish anything..Smile true, All.. *Hugs*

Mike.

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Random fuck all..

We wanna run, hide, discover what it’s like to “Not” feel the way we do.. Escape our pains, feel free from our haunts.. If we could just take them out and set them down, walk away just for a moment.. Would we know what it’s like to not feel “Crazy”?.. Will our thoughts settle, will the currents rest?.. Who would we be without those memories? .. Our past released, set adrift to drown alone, and cease its hold upon my being.

Would we run like children in the Summer, through the fields or in the park?.. Would sleep come with sweet dreams and be empty of that dark hurt?.. Will my chest not be tight?.. Will I be relieved of anxiety, the constant battle with despair and or the suffocating pressure due to years of mind fuck terrorism?…

Since the age of 2, I have been fighting against a rage, not just my own, but yours, theirs, his, hers, it, that and the other.. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t on edge, waiting for it.. Always in a mode where I could see everything, hear everything, know what was happening in my bubble, your bubble, their bubble.. I don’t know any other way except to feel in a heightened mood of constant “what if”.. I’m happy being me, but am I?? .. It’s all I’ve ever known, I never let my guard  down, not once.. I don’t rest without knowing escape routes.. As my camera is within reach, so is my .45, and my other .45 ..

Some think it’s paranoia, most have never asked.. I don’t live with fear or any sort of  “paranoia” and I haven’t since the age of 5.. I got to know it so well it became a part of me, we grew up together.. Became intimate on levels most could never understand.. A level where it became euphoric.. When I learned that fear only resided in the mind, I laughed at it, then I used it, then it became my friend. Not unlike those who are fearless, though I do have fears.. Of falling in love with the “One” and losing her.. That’s my only real fear.. Talking in front of a large audience maybe.. I’ve faced many monsters in my lifetime, where most have only “feared” meeting just one of  their demons.. I have fought and defeated many.. Physical, mental.. I can list at the very least 100 .. I’m not special, a lot of people have fought and won.. I don’t bury my past, or live like it never happened.. I keep it up front and accounted for.. I share, I help.. I’m not the only one who suffered.. Millions have.. One trauma or one thousand, not all will know what it was or is like being me.. Nor will I know what it’s like to be you..

I was chosen.. Meant.. Because I’m not going to let anyone curb my words, muffle my voice, I’m not afraid to tell it like it is, no holds barred.. People hurt, people cover up, they medicate, they use, they drink, they bury what haunts.. I do none of that.. My haunts are my strengths.. The things you DON’T wanna talk about.. I share like headline news.. I may be foolish at times, But!, I LOVE being me.. I’m happy with who I am and not one single person in this world will change that.. I am smart, Driven, Goal oriented, Lazy, A daydreamer, Bold, Brazen, An adrenaline junky, The funniest person I know, I care, I’m real, Honest, Chivalrous, Spontaneous, A spaz, I cook anything and I do it well.. Learning is my ultimate kink.. “You can’t see brains from across the room”..

I’m not interested in your tits, your ass or your resume.. I’m not in the least interested that you took a class on how to give head.. I like REAL, up front, blunt, no candy coating.. I have no “Type”.. In today’s society people change their hair like they change socks, so why be interested in a brunette when she’s really a blond?.. I see beneath, the deep YOU.. I like souls, I like minds, twisted, nasty, dirty, funny, devilishly smart, sarcastic minds.. When I sense you’re not being real.. I’m gone.. Poof.. There is NEVER a reason to not be your true self.. Why?, why be fake?.. In my eyes I could never be anything other than what I already am or in the future a better me.. My trauma’s have allowed me to be myself and nothing less or more.. Just me.. Straight up and true.. I’m not perfect, we all have faults, quirks.. But as they say.. To some they are faults, to others they’re cute.. Take me as I am or stick it in your ass and fuck off..

I might be random, I might be hard to figure out.. I’m an enigma.. I won’t lessen who I am or be something I’m not in order to get laid.. Or to get further in life.. Sooner or later it catches up.. I wish more people would see this, understand it, live it.. No it wasn’t always easy, but over time it just became Me.. I write to help me process, not to entertain anyone.. This blog is for me, I have two others that allow other “Interests” to flow.. I might come back later and write some more here, I might not.. Who cares??..

 

 

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For not..

I’m not perfect, and again I’ll say “We aren’t here to be perfect, we’re here to be honest”.. I share a lot of my life, in snippets here and there. Some know a lot more than others, others think they know, some have no idea. I know I have haters, and I couldn’t care less. Those that hate are lost within their own tumultuous selves. They can’t feel for a second what it might be like to offer a hand in gratitude, or to help another gain balance and peace.

I have hurt others, terribly, physically.. But never for my own satisfaction, only out of protection and or I was being paid to stomp. I never once smiled after. I have with my own hands taken the life of another, maybe twice, maybe ask why instead of guessing at how I’m a monster or I deserve to die as well.. Maybe I was protecting myself, maybe I was ending something I didn’t begin but had been left at my souls doorstep because they themselves, their own subconscious knew I had it in me.. That what they had done over many years was unforgivable within this plain.. A release was needed in order for that type of forgiveness to be given, and not by me. 

I forgave in my own way many years ago.. I don’t hate, I don’t feel it, I don’t entertain the thought of hate.. Not to say I don’t get annoyed or perturbed on occasion, We all do. But to harbor such negative feelings towards one or a group is a dishonor to your soul. A fight you can never win.. Hate breeds hate, we think it, we act on it, we put it out there in the universe and it can never be taken back.. We all use harsh words, we all have ill will towards one or some and that’s natural.. But hatred for one is an absolute no go for me.. We all have pasts, some aren’t proud, some regret, some wish they had and wish they hadn’t.. We all wind up where we are on our path at exactly the time we’re suppose to be there..

One might see the pain in an experience, the hurt, the feeling of being lost in it. They wanna forget, move on.. I see where it leads me, the strength I’ll gain and how I might help another due to experiencing it first hand.. I was 2 years old when my path of pain and daily/nightly torture began.. Being tossed down a flight of stairs like a bag of garbage, my reward?.. A broken jaw..  That road lasted 14 years..

TBC.. 🙂

 

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Cost or worth?

Hmm… Hookups, one nighters, sluts (guy or girl)…Some live for it, some will die from it.. Doesn’t matter how hot someone is, they don’t have to tell you they’re gonna leave you with a gift afterwards. (Herpaghonasyphylaids)

Hmm… I’m sorry you’re not worth my time, you don’t do coke or smoke crack or take the hot run(heroin)..  “Oh my bad, thank you for telling me about your nasty habit. Run away fast!!..

These ones tend to be psychotic, suicidal on occasion, bi polar or just plain raunchy whores. I understand moderation but coke is something anyone can say “I only do a little”, it still means you have too many issues, and I’m cancelling my subscription.

Hmm…You’re really smart, funny, good looking, you treat me well, respect me, pleasure is off the hook!!.. You make me smile, I feel completely at ease when I’m around you, I feel so cared for and loved, I’ve never felt this way before “Umm…I’ve never felt this before?”

I feel good, I feel great, I don’t ever want it to stop, but it might!!, I can’t take it.. We can’t be together it’s me not you.. AHHH!!!!!

Nobody wants to settle for less, we all want our soul-mates.. Some of us know who they are, but some of us are too shallow to feel with the soul. It scares most to be vulnerable and open to real love. So why not live life with the vending machine.

Tease?,  E-1

Man-whore?, E-2

Celibacy?, E-3

Blowjob in alley?, E-yew!

One nighter?, B-1

Fuck in the car?, B-2

Hit it an quit it?, B-3

Heart break? we’ve all been there, B-4..

Doesn’t mean you need to cheapen yourself when you feel bad, or need to feel wanted, get attention, usually its the wrong attention…

Fuck it , not many care, why babble?, I’m no preacher, I’m not perfect and I don’t aspire to be..

I am who I am, we all have an issue or two..I don’t judge, I choose, I choose to be around those who are real.. Not the fake, wannabe bullshitters who couldn’t possibly think they’re pulling one over on us…HAHAHA!!

It so fills the circle with humor.. Happy? why? because you had sex with the town whore, that’s impressive…I’m as honest as they come.

I’m a no bullshit, upfront, in your face enigma (something or someone that baffles understanding and cannot be explained). Yet I’m as simple and uncomplicated a person that anyone could know, just ask.. 

If you always tell the truth you don’t have to remember anything (Mark Twain)…

 

Whats the cost and the Worth??

Here comes some really random shit, whatever..

How much does it cost to hug someone you love or even like?

What’s it worth to you to know someone loves you?

How much does it cost when someone loves you, and you don’t love them back?..

Is it worth the pain?, worth the time you stole?.

It doesn’t cost you anything, how do you know it won’t cost that person his or her life?

They put an effort into making things fun, happy and comfortable, then you go an fuck around, sneak around, steal, do drugs in excess and finally leave.

Was it worth it?.. Can you price that out?, “HAL!! price check on aisle fuck me over!”

How come money is the end to 80% of all relationships?

Guys don’t care if you have money or not, its the women (most).

Will you buy this?, can you do that?, I want this, do you wanna get laid?, then you better do it..

What do you mean you lost your job, SEE YA!.

Old school was when the husband and wife or boyfriend/girlfriend were honest, trustworthy, communicative, caring an simple..

Now its more like “How much do you make?” .. “What do you do?” .. “What do you drive?” .. “Do you have a big dick?” (yes) ..

“Any ex wives?” .. “Any kids?” .. “Do you rent or own?”..

“Where are you taking me to dinner?” .. “How much is it?”

“I wanna go here” .. “I hate your friends, stop talking to them”.. 

“I don’t like your furniture”.. “Your place is small”.. “You must not make any money, you’re not good enough, bye”..

After a year, 3 weeks, 6 months, a decade, to put up with changing, to deal with attitude.

It’s always do this and do that, FUCK YOU!.

How come we can’t just fuckin co-exist?, enjoy each other for what we have inside?. Who WE are..

That’s even better, it actually makes everything else more fun, even sex. The emotional connect is WAY more important.

What’s with the cost? the worth?.. Is it worth the heartache?, was it worth the time?, the effort?…

How come people don’t see others for what’s inside instead of “OMG! he gots a beemer! No-WAY!”..

If people had a fuckin clue what I did, what I’ve done and what I’ve accomplished, STFD!!

I feel things differently, so what, fuck you for not realizing..

It’s worth my time to discuss the details of my life, the “Goings on”, the what I do, the how I live..

That costs me nothing.. It’s when I open up and the emotional cash register starts tickin, then I give a shit..

That could take minutes, days, years, whatever, its my decision.

If I choose to talk to you it’s because I think you’re worth it, I don’t give a fuck what you do or who you know and how much money you have, I see the inside, not the shallow core of the shell that binds you..

I love how some people presume to know what I’m thinking or how I feel..

They then choose to run with their shallow assumptions, effectively cashing out their chips before looking at their hand..

It twists my brain to see how some people act, they want all this “stuff”, and yet it means nothing in lasting partnerships.

“Mmm you’re so hot, I love your abs”,, Even when they’re gone in 10 years from being an alcoholic, listening to your bullshit..

“OH DAMN! your tits are smokin!” .. *teehee* (Blushes) “why thank you, Let me suck your cock and then you can fuck me .. Cuz in 10 years I’ll be too old for you and I won’t be that young hottie anymore.” .. “Aww.. That’s too bad, then I’ll dump your nasty ass for a

younger piece”.. I love it!!

People need to be more inside than outside.. Beauty lies in the eyes, the eyes NEVER change. The soul lies behind the eyes. 

 

I don’t tend to hit on anyone, the natural thing is best.. If it’s there. it is.

I love the ones that are single or say they’re single, yet date 27 different guy’s or girls..

Then when someone comes along they actually have to selectively dismantle their fuck pal list and hope they dont get caught in the 2 months it takes to do so..

Single is single, yes, there’s single and dating, this usually means “I’m single and open to fuck buddies, sport fucking, or just an all

around whore”..

I have been single over a year now, which means, I don’t randomly fuck people just to get laid.

Most of the time it sucks anyway, big talk means nothing. I don’t give away what I have and there’s a reason.

 No lies, no secrets, again, NOT WORTH MY TIME! in the end it COSTS TOO MUCH!!!

Plus, most of the girls I meet or pass by are too fucked up to know what time it is, just drug riddled..

Do the drugs to feel good, to feel accepted because you can’t handle reality.

So many excuses for pathetic actions leads to a pathetic existence. “I think I’m gonna go fuck that guy or girl because I feel bad about myself”.

He/she may be hot but in most cases they’re just as inadequate in that area as you are mentally.. It winds up being a lose lose.

You think you’re getting laid, two minutes, maybe four and it’s over, then you feel like shit again, job well done,

Some smooth talk and WOOHOO!! not quite the rodeo you expected, not even close, huh? .. Aww thats too bad..

Hit it an quit it mentality will get you killed.. Slowly. How’s that rash on your cock?, How’s those bumps on your vag?

How are those boils on your nuts comin along?, you good?.

I have an edge. so what.. I’m smart, wicked smart, some people would see that if they gave it half a chance and not just throw up the hands and say “STOP! you don’t even know” .. Well as a matter of fact I do know.. Which is why I’m single.. Which is why I don’t fuck around with cheap an easy..Which is why I always say, “You can’t see brains from across the room”..

I want someone with a good head on their shoulders, not just one who gives it. I want someone who can keep up seriously and have a great sense of humor..Wait.. How about someone honest, who can communicate.. Be in control of those out of control moments??.. I want a lot, nobody is picky, we just have standards. Mine are about the interior, not the exterior that changes daily. Of course attraction is valid, but be real.. .

The soul holds the truth, the mind holds the thoughts you THINK are the truth, which create bad thoughts, which are inaccurate.

I believe my soul, my mind can go to hell..

Throughout my journey I’ve come across one or two, but as usual it’s the vanity, the outside, the “You’re only worth

my time if you can afford it.. $$$$$.. I don’t need to pay to be able to believe in something, that’s always free.

I love how people look at someone and think they know. Right away they assume, they make judgement. I laugh my ass off.

If people would give certain things a bit of a chance, then maybe they’ll maybe they’ll realize what’s real. 

They find out, Wow!! I had no idea, you never said anything..

Why the FUCK should I invite someone into my life when I know all they wanna hear first is how much I make, or what I do?.

What I choose, are my beliefs in doing something for the greater good.. Writing, though I may not be the greatest, helping, listening, or the best of all, by me just being me..

I went to school to find out “why” not find out how, I knew how, I needed the why. Did I get it? nope..

I knew why when I was 17 yet I didn’t know why I knew “why” until I figured out what X was. Get it?

I wanna say to everyone, You’re worth it, but not at my expense..

How much does my personality cost?, my sense of humor?..

How much is it worth to you?, is this not what you want?.. The humor, the patience, the company, the caring, the

great sex, the awesome hugs, unconditional love? .. How much does that cost?.

Do you just want the quick in an out, pay me now we’ll call it a relationship??.

My money is my money, do I have it?, who knows, will I spend it on you?, you bet your ass..

It’s only fitting when two people love each other, to share, to spend, to see one’s “worth” through the soul and not the

pockets..

Love the person, not the bank account or the tattoos or the piercings or the car, the cock, the tits or the ass.

Be in love with being in love..

Love to miss that person when they’re at work.

Look forward to the evening kiss at happy hour and sharing time and Sharing the days happenings..

Feeling everything all at once from a hug..

Stop the fucking cost cutting!!

You’ll see when you find it that it was well worth the wait..

Life, it’s a process not an event.

Use me, abuse me, tell me to fuck off, walk away, leave.

We all have issues, it’s how they’re dealt with.

So what, sometimes its nice to have someone to talk to.. I wanna talk to my soul-mate.. Without words. 

I love how I put myself out there, but hey it’s worth it to me..

by

Missing of touch.. Sometime.

We all miss something, whether it be the blanket you had at 4 or the car you got on your 16th…We miss those that have passed on and those that pissed us off over nothing. Hmm?

Now I lay me down to sleep, thoughts of you forever I keep.

The cover of dark, stars burning bright, as true it is, loneliness is the night.

A long walk on the beach, a stroll in the park, holding hands the way we do. Tonight I’m missing you.

To be not seen, to be not touched, to be not held, to be not kissed, to be not is to be missed.

This bed never warm, this bed never comfy, tossing an turning, you’re not here to stop me.

The shakes and the giggles, the snoring and the wiggles.

The spooning and the cubbles, the midnight kisses and the nose to nose snuggles.

The war over covers, the pull of the sheet, you’re touching my feet!

I’m cold, I’m hot, getting some water, turn the light on, bump the dresser, walk in sleep, these memories I keep.

Turn the light off, back in the sack..

“How bout a little head?”, How bout you go to bed!?

The ruffle of blankets and the comfy dance, wearing my cool star wars pajama pants..

Settled at last, I fall to dream..

I wake in the morn, feeling the sun and all that is warm.

I open my eyes to a beauty of no match,there, this wonderful woman lay.

With all my heart and all my soul, whispering I say, good morning sunshine, it’s a new day.

Deeply I stare, caressing her hair, waking her slowly.

With a gentle touch and a love so much.

A feeling of serene, a knowing of pristine.

A cloud on the horizon fast approaching my window, this can’t be right, whats that light?

What could this mean?, it was all just a dream..

Rubbing these eyes to my surprise, I see an empty side.

Composure is little, like the night before I knew, I would wake missing you.