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A Poem f,rom Junkie Stories

Pins –

There I was . . .  lost in a nod
I was lost in an imaginary field that stretched
beyond anything I could ever imagine.

(Or maybe I was just on B 15th St.
and I was too far gone to notice.)

I was lost in a figurative field of tall grass,
swaying in the imagination of a summer wind,
and I sat down to feel the strength a warm,
smooth rush.

My mind collapsed into a gentle spiral
sinking in twists—swirling downward in a delicate cycle
and everything around me slowed down
to a magnificent crawl.

Outside was irrelevant.
But inside, my body (or church)
was wonderful and contaminated.

A light bulb swung, dangling from Continue reading →

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Sessions From The Balcony: A Night In The Scene

Outside, the line stretched down the street. Everyone on line was waiting to get in and everyone on line was wondering if they would make it in before the club would close.
As for me, I was still very new to the New York City club scene.  The bars and clubs on Long Island were nothing like the ones in the city. There were too many inhibitions and too many people to impress. There was too many people screaming to break free, but yet, each was too afraid to step from their own comfort zone. The city, however, was altogether different.

I knew this night would be different when I approached Continue reading →

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Learning a Lesson

Two men argued on a crowded eastbound train from New York City. They pointed and shouted at each other during the evening rush hour. They cursed and threatened each other. One of the two men spoke with so much anger that strings of spit flew from his mouth. The other man was equally as angry, but he screamed less spit.
The argument erupted very quickly in the cramped isle, which was overcrowded with standing Continue reading →

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Watch Your Mouth

I have to remember something:
My words are like a line in the sand. Once I cross the line—then I’ve crossed the line, and coming back is not always easy.
I have to remember that words said out of anger have sharp teeth. And sharp teeth hurt. They leave bite marks and the marks remain even after the anger subsides.

I need to remember this . . .

Back when I was a kid, I remember Continue reading →

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Something from The Tattooed Minister: Blue Collar Preaching

It was the end of a long day at work. I had just spent several hours repairing, moving, and replacing several old cast-iron radiators on a vacant floor in a building above Grand Central Station. My knees hurt from kneeling. My lower back hurt from lifting and my shoulders were sore from swinging pipe-wrenches.
The main struggle with this job is the old pipework. Many of the valves I had to change were original installs, which meant the valves were locked tightly in place back in 1927, and they have not been disturbed since.
Some were swapped out throughout the years, and some were easier to remove than others. Most, however, are what we called “Squeakers.”
We called them this because of the loud, whinny squeak that echoed in the demolished empty Continue reading →

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Time

Time is always the same. A second will always be a second. A minute will always be a minute, and hours will always be hours. The speed of time is never any different; it is simply ongoing and inevitable, moving forward in measures of seconds, minutes, hours, and days.
To us the time it takes to round the clock is relative. To us, time is subject to emotion. A minute of laughter is quick.  However, one minute of pain can drag on for what seems like hours.
The truth is time has no regard for our emotion. Time never sleeps. There is no way to pause, stop, or rewind. There is no way to fast forward or ease time back to a slower motion.
Time, itself, is an ongoing machine. It is more Continue reading →

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A WALK IN THE PARK

The morning was no different from any other during my lazy teenage days of summer. The sun was awake and high by the time I left my home. Outside, the winds were slow and warm. There was little to do in my small town. There were few places to go and only a few ways for me to get there.
There were no classrooms to attend or teachers to contend with. There were no homework assignments, no detention, trips to the principal’s office, or progress reports to worry about in the mail. There was little else besides the idled time of teenage life.

There had been an Continue reading →

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For Tommy

Saul Williams once wrote, “Only believers in death will die.”
I had to think about this . . .

If it were up to us, our loved ones would never pass. No one would ever become sick, or suffer a minute of sadness or pain. If it were up to us, we would always remain friends. No one would ever leave, and if they did, nobody would ever part on bad terms.
Unfortunately, it is not up to us.

We were young once. We ran Continue reading →

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About the Lost Child

Sure . . .
I have good memories of bad things. This is why I kept doing them, which makes sense because nothing is addicting when it feels bad. The truth is many of the things I did felt so good that I began to explore and branch out to find other ways to feel even better.
Nothing like this begins with tragedy. It was all in fun. Stupid games like, Ring and Run become bigger and better. It starts small—like prank phone calls or small plots of youthful mischief to kill the boredom.
Drinking started with stealing sips of adult beverages whenever I had the chance. Then I became brave enough to dare and learn what happens when I drank enough to feel the results. It was like daring the world and dancing on the edge between safety and trouble. I found a different kind of Continue reading →

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Sex Prose from Sessions in the Balcony

I think I was 15 years-old . . .
This was not going to be my first time, but it was going to be my first time with a girl I never met before. I was introduced to a girl from the next town over. I liked the idea that she knew nothing about me. This way, she might not judge me. I liked that we did not know the same people and she never heard any of the local rumors about me.
She knew nothing of my background and I knew nothing about hers. I met her through a phone conversation, but I had never seen this girl in the flesh. We began speaking by accident. At first, I thought she was a girl I met in a mall—but she wasn’t.  As it turned out, the girl I met gave me the wrong phone number. As a joke, she gave me the phone number of her friend instead of her own. (We’ll call her friend Jessica for now)

Jessica was a year older than I was. She came from a wealthy family and Continue reading →