Too much of nothing makes a fellow mean in Spanish Harlem.

                What it was , and what will never become of a thrill - seeker such as many other people including myself. It is true that I have been prone to waking up some mornings, nothing unusual. Although It is also true that I do my best to filter out the sordid ideas that rest  upon their laurels of my sub-conscious.                          The biggest regrets of my past would have to be regretful assumptions I have made ending in the cowardly result of not doing certain things, ( involving hallucinagenic mushrooms, misdemeanors, and high school proms.          However getting down to the thick of it, amidst the brutal truth, I resign myself to the primitive urban odor of the city streets. No matter how attractive the perfume, I am still momentarily forced to imagine the sweaty butt- cracks of the obese as they piss and shit all over fast food rest-rooms. Very similar to the stench that rises from the homeless in the Winter as they attempt to keep warm above the metal heat drains.
                   Oh the female deer, the subtly sweet deer. Did she brush her teeth this morning? Does she take too much sugar with her tea?  Does she exhibit her road rage in her '04 station wagon after she drops her grade - school kids off at soccer practice?, and what does she look like naked? This world tends to be an over- bearingly distractive vice on the road to progessive sprituality.
                        The humidity plays a part in my lifestyle. I shall Idle lazily in front of the T.V. on afternoons such as these. Why press the time? Do not force anything is my motto, let them come to you. Give the vegetation time to build a solid foundation upon the shitty fertalizer of it's choice. 
                     Let it also be known that I am a very compassionate, sympathetic man filled with bottomless empathy. Do not be mislead, this allows the pedestrians no lee- way. Since I have been there, you may not fool me with your juvenile excuses. It is true , let my track record show that in the past I have been sexually abused by only the best undertakers, priests, drill sergeants, and taxidermists. And please do not misplace my comments by putting them into your, " bragging pretentious", category. I am only stating simple facts about truthful incidents that can allow you, "The reader", to know exactly where I am coming from.                 I was born in the pungent summer of '56, in a slum widely known as " Spanish Harlem ", I developed a raw fetish for poka- dots at a rather ripe age said the older girls at school. In the evening, after completing my homework, I would climb on to the roof of my family's apartment building. I would lie on my back staring up at  factory smoke as it ascended into the dimming horizon. "Dusk", was my alias during that time, Because I was so emotional and poetic I couldn't even formulate a sentence. The Dean, the principal and all my teachers held me back several years because I was so deep they said I was a retard.

A Night at The Best Western. ( residing in an Eastern City)

               Cofusion reigns supreme, and where I have heard that one before raises a question mark in this dingy hotel room. The cigarette ashes coat my throat as I sneeze prematurely four times, systematically. I've got channels three, six , ten and HBO. (as if the HBO makes up for this lack of cable.) I'm currently residing at an over- priced Best Western in the Center of the City. About 140$ per -night. I haven't slept for two and a half days. The paranoia is setting in strong, ?The impact of the walls are having a stale supernatural effect upon my narrow eyeballs. I get under the covers naked but I am not cold nor hot. I see a crack throught the day -time curtains. This increases my fear of the living . These people work and obey bodily functions, Who are these people?, and more importantly, Who do they think they are?
                 I checked in at about 12:13 A.M. this morning. The woman at the desk was indefferent enough about my arrival. I came in drenched from the rain. (simple enough, hmmm.) I need another pair of clothes. And I'm having a hard time finding the drugs I've hidden under the mattress. Today will be the day I'll be forced to relocate to the unkind dismal part of the city, where a man can't walk down the street without being harrassed by the impulsive youthful hoodlums that drool and stare too long. And why do they all think I am rich? the ignorant rascist punks.
                        It was every other Thursday, My favorite second Thursday of the month. The day I went to see the Quack. The middle - aged man driving. I think Roy was his name,  always had a simple demeanor. I special way of minimalizing my paranoia and problems, he would say, " so you feel like a cue-ball walkin' round there don't ya pollock"?

Recalling an Evening in the Autumn of 2004.

                       What has come to me in delusion? does it share its piece of reality in sub- conscious truths?
Now take me back to the Autumn of 2004. Do I romanticize? Maybe. I digress and take it slower now. The years and seasons have been kind and unforgiving. Similar to a red- headed stepmother who holds grudges. In being a man contains the pain of growing into an elderly man. I shall move to Prague at the age of 65, drink clear spirits and moan next to my best friend. ( a 12 year old German- shephard that responds to the name Lucifer, Because that will be the mutts damn name), The frigid weather will wither my frail skin down to the chilled marrow. And who exactly will hear my Story? How I dearly hoped my old comrads Tolstoy, Chekov, and Dosteovosky  were here to hear my low- pitched wail onto the timeless center of town. Adjacent to the old peeing post, neigboring the old Precinct we would frequent after a series of benders and sprees.
                          I was in my earlier weeks when the afternoon presented itself one fine morning. My cellphone was on vibrate. I was going through the aftermath of amphetamines and barbituate withdrawl. I gently placed my vibrating cellphone to my fuzzy rustic unshaven face.No pleasure came out of this, as a reader I want you to know. I had an uncanny desire to misplace my wallet, cellphone, and house -keys. So I preceded to walk to the local delicatessen. I purchased 3 40.Oz. bottles of Silver Thunder. Downed one of them at the delicatessen. Then walked with the other two to the worst area of town that I could think of during that period of my life. Sat in the park under the cool trees as they swayed unknowingly beneath the dim moonlight. Off in the distance I could make -out the sounds of domestic disputes, gun -shots, sirens, and prostitutes getting paid. Then meticulously confirming to myself that I was drunk enough to talk to anyone, I stood up and stumbled to the nearest dive -bar. I don't exactly recall correctly the events that would transpire afterwards, but there is one thing I do know for sure. And that is I woke up the next morning on my front step with no money, no way to call anyone, and no way to get into my house. THE END

Headaches and Dispositions

                   I've grown older. Increasing in my years and overall disposition. I served society, but in short,... society served me. I've sweated out the afternoons profusely. The magnificent windows that fill a room have beaten down sunlight upon  my temples. No time to worship during human intervals. No time to make love amidst the blaitant poisoning. Games we once played still smile maliciously, and unaffected. Ignorance has won me over amongst the living. The dying are still seeking temporary levity, and always will. In their hearts dishonesty reveals something new, though the truth is legendary and will put them to death.
                           Around here we take refuge in the projects of the city, we sleep briefly and find no relief in the staleness of morning. Jesus died for our sins but not for me, ( I am a sick soul among the greedy). Envious to an obtuse degree. Where the weather is solid I will perish. Where health flourishes I shall decompose. I've sacrificed my integrity due to nasty routines, and inconstant withering. And with this,... the Evergreens do sway out to ancient tribes that predict castrations among the dewey constellations.
                        A week or three ago I found myself among the frontlines, lost in the shit of the ship, A thrift store it was and still is. A solo shoe that did not match the other, with no rubber band to follow. The room temperature was weak,...(and so was I). The leader does his best to arouse inspiration onto his suffering crew, he says," okay people we be power bailing today,  kids clothes, womens two -pieces, shorts, blouses, and mens two -pieces" . THE SORTING ROOM,  Noone talks of this because noone makes it out alive, the survivors ride these misfortunes down the slippery slope to jail, death, and more homelessness. We take things to extremes around here. The old man stopped mixing his Christian Brothers a long time ago! And forget putting it on ice! Ice is a luxury we are not familiar with in the northern parts. Around here our tongues hang loose to the heat, with our eyes fixed on the streets, and our wallets glued shut with expired fake I.D.s                      
                         Illusions reveal themselves outside the bus -windows while approaching the center  of town. The upper - class create their own worlds full of wine and politics. Who will save their souls? Oprah is no longer on the air, and Phill Collins is no longer in the air tonight. And what fashion standards are they setting fot their naive offspring? The mindless will continue to teach them where their parents left off. We shall end with a new death, a fresh flower planted on the drilled bed -rock. This will lie the foundation for white - collar preachers soaked in gasoline with belts tied around their waists.

Autumn sun casts a day - time shadow on the northern tenement.

                       Darkness in the shade of hope to take me to the places I thought I didn't want to see, In the time when nobody trusted me. They would say "Don't say that ", so I did, Then they would say " Why'd you do that?, so I hid. Running into Discontent, there lied the trees of the naive, rekindled to and fro then , back and forth into the night. The black smoke had ascended into the urban sky. The green dumpster chilled by the winter. The residential windows restless to the memory of threats of homicide.                      
                       The turnover rate was high involving the roach infested tenements. But for the northern side of the city this was nothing but speakable. " Leave your dollar - store lights on all during the night, to save you from any hideous sight,or just a normal one. When the chemicals do leave your body, sleep shall be nothing but deluded and unforgiving. The circles of town surround the private scenery, Trimmed bushes . The sun would would look on from above. Holidays would stack themselves into a pile., mocking you with an aching smile. The bones that grow old with the start of the season., so to live what reason? You must find one now. Noone will do that for you.
                         A man with a boy's soul has commited a crime, but to the man's misfortune he can't do the time. Just as the homeless turn two nickels to a dime, he will pay with his soul. Every waking moment shall posess the man's dreams, his situation took hold of his sub-conscious, and left his mind screaming with thoughts uncompromising. There came the breaking point few do know. Woe onto the greedy. there judgement shall come before there time is up. Their elderly years will be stained with loneliness and tears,. It takes self sacrifice to get a taste of contentment., " So why am I not happy ", they will think, then fill their days with sorrow until their minds are on the brink.  When love is lost you will pay. When hope is lost they shall stray, but their hopelessness will find a way to bring their egos into a losing battle. Always winning is the timeless dirt that grinds against one's teeth in the midst of a tornado,