More Poetry


It hurts when you talk and talk.
Talking and not listening.
It hurts when you talk so much
I can't hear myself

It hurts when you won't listen
All I can do is run away.
I want to be with you too.
It hurts when you won't listen

So I run away.
Run to my hideaway
Its no use, you don't care to know me anyway.


Fucking slit his throat and spit down his neck.

What the fuck? Its been three years already!

Fucking tie him to the bed and shove his own dick up his ass

What the fuck! He was my goddamned pastor!

Fucking cover him in gasoline, then make him drink it.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

Choke on the gasoline motherfucker. Choke on it!!!

This prison I am in, He made this for me.

This prison, this everyday torture. soiled by his unintelligible desires

This prison you put me in, like the grey walls of Mansfield

Grey walls, grey skies, grey skin. crimson blood flows

This prison he put me in, a world of hate and crime.

Nothing I can do, just scream until my throat bleeds.

I gag on phlegm and razor wire.

Fuck you asshole! I don't want to heal anymore.

Fuck you asshole! These wounds are too deep.

Fuck you asshole! Fuck you! Fuck you!

Your own mother regrets giving birth to you. You worthless strand of defective DNA. The world would be better off without your entire bloodline.


You have joined me in sorrow, I have found peace.

You have curled into a ball beside me, I have found safety

You have screamed at the walls with me, I have been validated.

You have wept I have been comforted.

You have touched me I have been brought back

You have held me close when all others abandoned me

You have loved me when all I knew was hate

You have seen the worst I am getting better.

You are my healer I am mending.

if only   

if only he hadn't died
if only she had shown up
if only they had listened
if only I had been raised differently

if only he had lived
if only she had not worked so much
if only they had told me I was going to be ok
If only I was allowed to be

if only he was stronger
if only she was stronger
if only they were stronger
if only I was stronger

if only he didn't come back
if only she didn't idolize him
if only they knew the truth
if only I was told I didn't need him

If only he didn't do that
if only she heard me
if only they stopped it
if only I never knew him

If only he didn't lie
if only she didn't send me there
if only they didn't deny it
if only he didn't fuck me in the ass

if only I could strike a deal with the time gods and turn back time.
then it could be different.
then it didn't happen
then it never was
then was never imagined

then I could be a real boy
then I could be a real man
then I could control this
then I could be better  


Your shame was too heavy, so you put it on me.
Accustomed to your shame, like an invisible cloak, I hid from everyone.
Your shame became my shame.
Clutching it close like gollum's “precious” I became the shame.
My life, my love, all became one, the precious you placed on me.
In despair and desperation I cried out,   
“It’s not mine! It’s not mine! but thine!”


I will choose to NOT suffer. I will choose to feel happiness. I will choose to feel bliss. I will choose to feel love. I will choose to not suffer. I will feel the pain. I will not dwell on it. I will let it be. I will let it pass. I will choose to live. I will choose to be me. I will choose to exist. I will choose the now. I will choose to not suffer. I will let it go. I will chose to let you go. I will be me,


My birthday today. I made it! I made it all the way to 46! It is a life mark that I never thought I would arrive at. With all the “You are just like your father” projections and shit from my youth. I never thought I would survive this. 

I don’t think I will die anytime soon, and that's a strange feeling for me. My father died when he was 46. It is a freeing thing, perhaps I can plan for the future. Live for the now. Be in the present. Love my life for what it is.  

Wow! 46! I made it

So 45 was not easy, yet somehow easier than other years. I started out in Aurora Colorado and ended it in Homestead Florida. How strange is that? After moving back home in 2000, I never really thought that I would leave the majestic beauty of Colorado again. Here I am in a now familiar Starbucks, drinking coffee. I am writing about another year of life. I am still alive. 

I have finally come out of a deep, unending depression that I never thought I could climb out of. I went through knee replacement surgery, months of physical therapy, and until recently, never ending physical pain. I have gone back and forth from dealing with the physical abuse suffered from AFB and the mental abuse suffered from my mother. 

The darkness I felt from my mother, escalated until I became suicidal in December. I never let Amy in on those feelings because she told me she would leave me if I ever became suicidal again. So I kept it secret. I suppose I wasn't really going to end it if I was thinking about her divorcing me. I was in the darkness for reasons I still cannot articulate. Perhaps it was my mother and her constantness, perhaps it was the addiction taking its toll, perhaps it was the ordinary sameness of life. perhaps is was my leg that hurt so much! Or perhaps it was all of it. 

I wanted to give up. I didn't give up. I woke up and fought the addiction, I woke up and fought the sadness, I woke up and fought the rage. I woke up and fought, and fought, and fought. The goal was worth it. I could see the love in my wife's eyes the worship and adoration in my kids eyes. I knew that If I could eke out a little more strength each day, The reward would be there. 

It took a new life in Florida to push the blues away. But it was more than that. I had to push away others as well. I had to push mom away. To stop talking to her. To stay away from her noise and uncaring talking. 

Later, It was shocking to find out that all the pain and anguish I felt in Colorado would follow me to Florida. This time I had a plan. I would drive to a beach or shoreline each time I felt pain, I would write the pain away. I would float and swim in the ocean. Let AFB drown in the warm waters of the carribean. 

And so today, 

I will choose to NOT suffer. 
I will choose to feel happiness.
I will choose to feel bliss.
I will choose to feel love.

I will choose to not suffer.
I will feel the pain.
I will not dwell on it.
I will let it be. 
I will let it pass. 

I will choose to live. 
I will choose to be me.
I will choose to exist.
I will choose the now. 

I will choose to not suffer. 
I will let it go. 
I will chose to let you go.
I will be me,


But it still hurts. Its been six years? 
But it still hurts. The pain in varying degrees of intensity. 
But it still hurts. The family is still together
But it still hurts. No, not all of us are together

But it still hurts. I am not the fiery ball of fury. 
But it still hurts. The fury still smoulders.
But it still hurts. How could anyone do this to another?
But it still hurts. I no longer want to kill him

But it still hurts. I have learned to love.
But it still hurts. I have learned to accept love.
But it still hurts. I have learned to become in the moment.
But it still hurts. The moment is sometimes long ago.

But it still hurts. I can laugh without shame.
But it still hurts. I can hold another without fear.
But it still hurts. I can be brave. 
But it still hurts. I am still afraid. 

But it still hurts. Its only been six years.
But it still hurts. I will get better. 
But it still hurts. I have time now. 
But it still hurts. I will be ok. 

But it still hurts, But it doesn't hurt all the time
It doesn't hurt all the time.
But it still hurts. I still want him dead.
But it still hurts. I will only spit on his grave.

But it still hurts.   

Letters to Mom

No more words

I can't speak. It comes out garbled, wrong, incoherent, or angry. I am at a loss for desire. I speak and you won't stop. Your words keep coming at me like poison tipped daggers launched as if you were the jabberwocky of constantness. 

It is as if my voice has been violently torn out of my throat with a rusty, jagged exacto knife.  I clutch my neck, blood dripping between my fingers, as if to say, “There is so much for you to hear.” Yet your noise drones on. In desperation and rage I slam my fist on the table. You can't hear me. You hold my voice in your hands. I am not supposed to interrupt. 

Talking, talking without listening. hearing your voice, unwilling to hear.  No more words left to be said. A gun to my temple. “I am dying and in pain!” You walk away and I am diminished evenmore. Out of a multitude of words. You don't know what to say to a boy in agony so you walk away. 

The mask of joy at your absence lies to the grief I feel because of your deliberate abandonment. The words I want to hear are simple and kind. Yet, you speak only of your bowels and your own betrayal. You consciously close your eyes to the universe around you as if you were the sun and I was the planet.  You speak of the past as if it were today, ignoring the present and all of the wonders around you. 

Jumbled words, Jumbled thoughts, only lead to confusion and pain.  The more you say, the less I know. I can't hear you anymore, my ears are tired. If only I could drown out your voice, even when you are not near I still hear you flapping your jaws. A jabberwocky of endlessness.  

But what must I say that you will hear me? Aw, Fuck it. you aren’t listening anyway. 


I have got to figure out how to get rid of you. Each time I think of you my stomach becomes twisted in nauseating knots. Each time I think of you, My heart pounds in a way that it feels as if its going to explode. Its too much. I cannot live this way. You consume my thoughts like a swarm of locust. Eating, eating, eating any and all semblance of happiness or contentment. 

I need to be free from you. How can I be free from you? You have hurt me so bad. I think of my rapist less than you. The betrayal I have felt from Wayne Fucking Pendlton is far less severe that the betrayal I have felt from you. He raped me, but what you did was far worse. You sent me to him. You didn't believe me after I told you. You told me to pray about it and is would all magically go away.  Magic is the lie you fed me since I was a baby. There is no magic. The pain still haunts my waking and sleeping. 

Loose the shackles that bind me to you so that I can live without you. I cannot stand you anymore. You say that blood is thicker than water, but I have experienced more love and family from those who only know me by my written words. They have loved me, comforted me, bound my wounds and told me it was all going to be ok. You have ignored me, talked over me, caused a deep longing alloness.  A perpetual feeling of loss by your present absence is killing my soul. Angry darkness envelops me with each recollection of your divisiveness, your hollow pseudo-kindness. 

I don't know how to let go of you. If only you would do us all a favor and die. Then I could say goodby. I could push the dirt over your coffin and walk away. I could be happy again. It would be over. Its not over. Fuck! I wish it were over. Fuck off and die already! Find your way to the grey ambivalence of the beyond. 

So now, I will be 46 years old tomorrow. I will be as old as my father was when he died. Some days I envy him and long for my own death so that I could be free from you. The torture I feel as your voice echoes in my head over and over is unbearable. Day after day, year after year, I hear your constant voice in my head. Even when you are thousands of miles away. I can still hear you. You won't stop talking!

How can I silence the constantness in my head? Just shut the fuck up already and die! Perhaps then, the agony that I am in will quiet away. 

You won't go away, You will stand there yammering about nothing at all. You won't listen to me.