Father figure, was never home

So, trapped inside, I’m all alone

No one will understand

Why I can’t be a “real” man

Were you there for me, ever

I didn’t fucking think so

So, any fucking weather

I’m okay all on my own.


I don’t know

I am the kind of person that has problems with explaining how I feel. In my mind, I know how I feel. However, when I try to put it into words it just comes out as unorganized bullshit. I’m pretty sure I have a lot of problems; I haven’t been to the doctor to confirm it so it’s all speculation on my part.

I, for the most part, am a chill person. I like to hang out, listen to music, watch movies, write, and just overall chill.

Okay, while I am writing this, my friend sent me the link to a music video. After watching it and talking to her about it, my headspace is completely different than when I started writing. This is a good example of how my emotions change rapidly without me having much, if any, control.

I am contemplating deleting this but I might post it anyway. If for nothing else than to show how my mind goes places and I have a hard time expressing it.

Life Things

Moira and Ned

So, I recently adopted. Well… By “recently” I mean a few months ago. And by “adopted” I mean I put dirt in a cup.

I had noticed when it would rain, here in Florida, some dirt would grow moss. It would be vibrant green moss, covering the cracked, tectonic plates of earth. I thought to myself, “I wonder if I could take some dirt, and try to grow it in a cup?” So, I took a piece, put it in a cup that I had cut, and put some water in there. That was when Moira was born.

She started with a pretty average amount of greenery, for the amount of dirt I collected. After a few weeks, she became a field of luscious, green, happiness. Things were going great so I decided to get cocky. I got another piece of the tectonic looking dirt, one that had as little green as possible. The plan was to put a piece of Moira in the cup and see if that would help it grow. Thus, Ned was born.

Moira was a great first child, but Ned came with difficulties. He was a thinner piece of dirt; therefore, he dries out faster than Moira. I felt bad when he and Moira would dry out (even though that is stupid as fuck because they are just pieces of dirt with moss, they are not real children). I learned to just put a shit ton of water in with them. From the rough (not scientific at all) tests I’ve conducted, moss can’t drown. If I put enough water in the cup, I don’t even have to worry about them for a few days.

Don’t tell child services on me, but I dropped Ned in the sink once (with soap) and he is still going strong to this day.

I guess the moral of the whole story is, don’t have children, kidnap dirt because it can’t die.



It hurts me to see the things that you do for work.

It hurts to live inside this system, knowing what it’s worth.

Money is worth nothing to our soul on this Earth.

Because, what happens when the corporations fall into the dirt?

And our life is the only thing left, but that’s what really hurts.

What’s material worth, when you look inside yourself?

Real shit, what’s Instagram doing for your health?

Take away the social media, you’ve got nobody else.

Now that smooth, black, screen shows a reflection of yourself.

So, you look up to the stars and you start screaming for help.

But nobody answers, man, that’s the cards you’re dealt.




Words are great. Words can single handedly talk someone off a ledge, whether it’s literally or metaphorically, or cause someone to get to that ledge in the first place. Kind of a pretentious way to start this but, eh, fuck it.

I think it is crazy how we have all agreed (in the English language at least) that certain shapes have sounds. If you see the letter “A” you know how that sounds. We have 26 of these shapes, and we put them together. When they are together their sounds combine, and mean something. If I say the word “chair” you picture a chair. It blows my mind when I sit and think about that. Consecutive sounds go through our brains and we know what others are trying to communicate with us. Not to mention the fact that by saying “chair” everyone will picture a different chair! What the fuck! You might see a stained oak wood rocking chair, creaking with every position shift. While Billy Bob might picture a white plastic chair with broken legs.

Coming back to the sounds of shapes and 26 shapes, think about books, movies, music, TV. We have 26 letters (in the English alphabet). 26 letters. That’s it. We take 26 letters and make masterpieces. The Godfather, for example, is my favorite film. Be it the book or the film, that story is told with only 26 letters. Puzo and Coppola created great works of art that makes you cry, clap and be filled with anger, all by using A to Z. That shit is crazy.