Skip to main content

Done















Done








8 years ago today I spent the night at the Doubletree Hotel in Sacramento, CA, en route to RTC Great Lakes. I left behind a lucrative career at Wal-Mart unloading trucks, my pursuit of a degree in literally nothing at Solano Community College, and a girlfriend that would later hate me for not dressing like one of the little bitches so common in K-Pop videos (srs). Throughout my tenure in the Navy I fought, did Handstand Pushups, and had my personal space violated repeatedly by deranged, insane men and women that would become the best friends I'd ever known. In the Persian Gulf, I went to throw up in a toilet that was already backed up and filled to the brim with shit, causing me to spew forth twice the expected amount of vomit. I became known as Bitch Hands, a name I still answer to from San Diego, Califronia to Manama, Bahrain. I passed out drunk in public parks, on the shores of forgotten beaches, and the manicured lawns of the estranged friends of acquaintances I barely knew. I wept for home in the shadowed corners of darkened, red light lit spaces, and drank rum with my SUPPO in the Middle East. I taught gymnastics and boxing on our floating penitentiary as it rocked and drifted across the Earth, and subsisted for a month on naught but honeybuns, Slim Jims, and Singaporean street jerky. I found strength in solitude, through exercise and literature, and reaquainted myself with God, finding salvation after nearly killing a guy in an impromptu fight with a guillotine choke held on far too long. I know you're reading this since we remained friends. I'm sorry. I looked for my heart in every woman I knew, eventually finding it in Zimbabwe, only to lose it all the same. But I press forward. Today was my last day in the IRR, meaning that my 8 years are up. I'm free. Again. Thanks for the memories, you glorious fucking degenerates. I'm home.

Popular posts from this blog

Frostbite

I often feel apart from the world. I enjoy it, partake in it, and have connections within its borders, but I am not of it. Truth is that I can't relate to the vast majority of people. Like seeing a flop at a poker table, Ive just become intimately attuned with a variety of social situations and the nuances they require. Admittedly, and indeed surprisingly to some to whom I never waste my breath, I tend to be very commanding and articulate in conversation. I can converse on a variety of topics with nimble comfort, and set the focus of my attention at ease rather quickly. Im particularly adept at engaging strangers in conversation, breaking them from their reveries, then gleaning what I need from them. On a whole Im very Machiavellian, and I harbor no shame about this side of my nature. The world turned its back on me years ago, so I have no qualms about using its denizens for my own gain when they've proven themselves sufficiently immoral and ill-mannered. From the perspective

Pledge And Honor

Pledge And Honor Pledge and honor/ The depths I've longed for/ Forever calmer/ Than relentless ardor/ I'm dead and wrong for/ The last time, perplexed and caught up/ In senseless constructs/ That rend and harm the/ Heaven on Earth/ I've bled and fought for/ I'll sever all the/ Ties to majesty/ Cause lies are trapping me/ I might've slandered these/ People, but try imagining/ The slice of ravishing/ Paradise I'm handling/ As the strife and pandering/ To vile tampering/ Legions wont be lined up granting me/ Vital amnesty/ I'm tired, answer me/ Why the savage seas/ Stay reliant on trapping me/ Miles and cramped beliefs/ Are a style I'm banishing/ Because if they like attacking me/ Theyd better find a patch of free/ Land, froze stiff and very/ Ready for an obituary/ Slow crisp and airy/ Notice this is wary/ As I close in and bury/ Your motions for clearing/ Broken despairing/ As the oceans ensnaring/

Crystal Lake

Crystal Lake I'm begging you to let me immolate/ This is straight/ From the heart because this inner pain/ Won't dissipate/ I'm lifting weights/ With every bitter day/ Because this hidden angst/ Fuck, it simply weighs/ Too much for me to mitigate/ What I'm feeling, to be alone, a risk to take/ I'm in a pickle late-/ Ly, as I sit and wait/ On a phone call from a certain little name/ That will never hit the stained/ Glass, so I rip and rage/ Against myself, against the strain/ Of this mistake/ And with that one, the ripples graze/ Across the surface of the crystal lake/ Of my mind, the crypt I lay/ In is of my own building, I fell in, tripped and splayed/ Out on the concrete/ All these/ Haunting/ Images come back to taunt me/ I'm wanting/ The past to arm me/ With calm things/ Palm me/ In your hand baby and stop me/ From washing/ Away these thoughts each/ Night with whiskey and oxy/ I'm falling/ Darkly/ Into the halls