my truck is broken

Sitting in the Hospital now with my MIL getting her daily infusion of antibiotics I am reminded that I am going to give up a vice soon. Smoking. We will see how that goes as my commitment is only to the money I'll save and the example I'll set for my boy. Problem being that I like to smoke, enjoy it most of the time but winter makes it hard to enjoy as we do not smoke inside the house out of respect for our son and cats - they've opted to not smoke so why should we be damaging their lungs - we are already corrupting them mentally and emotionally - why physically as well?
I am also thinking of my Ford F150 is not running correctly - badly in fact. Pretty sure that I've blown another coil, maybe two and that this will cost me a few hundred dollars at least and be a complete pain in the ass for the next day or so. I've been thinking of getting a newer vehicle, something lower to the ground and better on the pocketbook in terms of fueling costs and the truck isn't making it easy for me to keep it. Is it a sign? probably no, if anything it is a sign that the feelings of the truck are hurt by my indecision about replacing it - mostly on the side of drive it into the ground but I don't like it when they start to cost money for repairs.

a link: poetry Another link: more than just poetry but my poetry

go to that link - read a bit, fall in love with my poem and others - print out a few copies and hand them out to complete strangers for nothing but the joy of force feeding people the beauty that exists around them always.

Where was I? In hospital, thinking of my truck and health in general, and then poetry always comes at odd times and sometimes like an erection in church, unwelcome and possibly improper. But for this we are thankful which is what makes it the most odd - thankful that poetry in the mind is like the massive erection in church or the day you decided to not wear underwear in jr high and had to go to the blackboard after rubbing the wrong/right way, laughter ensues and the pink never leaves your cheeks again so you grow a beard in your freshman year and learn to tolerate or kill, at least maim a little.
but that never happened to me.
I saw it on television which is as good as a memory of your own.
this post has no direction.
My MIL has been stripped half naked in the infusion lab for an impromptu change of her wound dressing because her wound vac wouldn't shut up which is because it wasn't actually working - only pretending. Poor woman.
time to go smoke.

not titled yet

 befuddled and stuck in this mire of wordlessness - or words that do not want to connect coherently in the best order. At this point I know that I am making too much of it and need to stop thinking about this estrangement from the muse.
This started with the composition of an excessively verbose poem - far too heavy handed but it doesn't want to get rewritten - I mean what I said and it sucks, or at least caused this ripple of drought to infect my very being. It's dramatic and drastic without being dynamic or interesting.
but here it is anyway and I am only putting it out there because I need to either own it or shoot it. Possibly both.

not titled yet

susurrous dissonance playing on in our heads through
voices obfuscating true thought.
no action, reaction; no alleviation but pressing pressing pressing and
drinking to augment the medication, an ill-advised admixture.

sudden cessesation and eyes open
heart thump bump thump bump
really going on and on and on
fear sweat wetting hair and outer shirt
body shivers from breezes.

awake

light low.

powder burns and night now.
feet cold and uncovered by a short
green blanket.

 - Hoc Scripsi

next week this goes to the range for a few holes in it to see if that offers the proper way in.

it seems to be Monday morning, and glad of it.

When I worked, Mondays were always the easiest day, Full of paperwork and sitting at the desk to get everything in the mail on time, I would start early, around five AM usually and be gone between 1-2pm. Of course this necessitated waking up at 4am but this whole thing has been a digression.
or is it? as I am mostly unsure about the direction I want to be in this morning and thinking a little of this afternoon but mostly of sleep and dreaming, specifically last nights. I don't mean to live in the past a little but you have to admit, it is right there for us to do so.
I wonder if I will ever stop wanting to drink, smoke, take drugs.
I wonder if I will ever want to stop drinking coffee, writing, masturbating, playing with legos, loving legal voyeurism, among various other bad or dangerous things.
I don't wonder these things too much because if I allow myself to live in the future I can see that the day will pass when these are not options but memories that I will continue to scribble about.
I look forward to being a dirty old man.
I look backward at being a dirty young man.
Right now is the middle. between two dirty states of being.
my thoughts are often unwilled intrusions, and I don't act on most of them.
which is good because when I obsess, I obsess with the best of them.
I have a feeling that I will be adding to this later as I don't feel finished yet. But am for now.


crap

1.
how much that each
one of us writes
is the summation or
fruition of
last nights dinner
today?

2.
in Irish pubs
you are surrounded by
la  la and hi ho’s

in the American bar
only by tears and
lives regretted or
lost.

I prefer neither nor
drinking – pills and
pain are my fixations.

 - Hoc Scripsi