The thing was he had a reason. The night was cold and empty, just as he felt. There weren't any open doors or free bags of powdered kisses from God. The heroin has him in its bliss, and he likes to hide in the night. There weren't any track marks on his arms. Just like his serious lack of making some of his own.
    He got off the back porch when he heard the noise that he waited for. The sickness can make the best man do the worst things, even when his consciousness tells him otherwise. When they left he took the dog out back and cut it up like a prime rib.
    The days and years of searching. The world as it passed. His lack of acceptance. Not the being part, the knowing was hard to face. He once had to shower with a hose. When that little crazy girl that liked him put them up in the shed. Suicide or shower? That was the question that kept you up long enough to deal with the cold. He awoke sitting up in his underwear and her surprised fathers face. Dad wasn't mean, but he kick them out anyway.
    As he left her next to the mad dad to curl up in his t-shirt somewhere, the cold followed closely by the focus of its source.Those were the mornings of a child, which were the first clues as to what he would become.
    Now the good cutter of dogs wasn't alone and he knew it. He wasn't alone on the porch or when the hose was cold, but he cleaned his butt anyway. No he was never alone. He found out about the whole unbelievable mess in a crack hotel. How the voices kept it up and he really did walk in a car dealership expecting to drive out with just his mind. The T.V. told him so.
    The only difference being, back then he didn't know that the weight of this cold world rest on the same shoulders he carries the gorilla called Godsmack.
    The World of Darkness. The Crooked Realm. They had to follow him. To see when he found out what he really is. They wanted him to be the dumb human he was taught to be. Not the light of a darkened world. Negative forces were at work in the sheds of hell and he slept till the joggers woke him completely oblivious in his T-shirt nap. The Cold was waiting to give him the chills.
    The signs were there. No family or bed or home or room or poster or wall to put one on, even if you love the Bruins. He never knew of love, and a dog never taught him how to care. His homeless birth gave way to the lessons of the life that would be responsible for everyone and everything. He was the Light and he loved to kill your dogs.
    He hated to know how his needs pale in comparison to the needs a lost world. To know that all is not as advertised. He knows that he has to be as selfless as God said he should be. To know your choices indirectly influenced the flows of creation and life as a whole was not cool to a dopefeind.
    As a young boy he once found his moms cocaine stash and music found him. The same house she broke a broom over his head. The boy that cried way too easily, and burn rats to a crisp from the clothes line. Who kicked the cat around his house till the shit had to be cleaned off the walls and the poor dead thing was stashed away in someone else's dumpster. The same boy that somehow made it through the Wringer of Pain. That bears the burden of the world's ignorance.
    The world has never seen the likes of him. He doesn't even like the likes of him. So he cares to not care. Because he is very stubbornly motivated.
   The people who wept over the prime rib dog were the ones that he felt like bothering. When he stole the mail and burn down the family business he was just getting started. He took it upon himself to be filled with all the loathing and resentment one needed to do the next dirty deed. But the problem was he had all the reason...

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    So today has marked itself as a codefendant into the Case Against You And Me. What do I babble about? Let's keep things in common sense, practical terms here for the sake of my rant. And your enjoyment.
    This day hasn't shown growth, its proven itself to be just another shallow example of our lost collective minds man! What of a system that can contradict itself and also include its suitably subtle ideoligy with a side of pragmatism? I'm all for the label of bipartisan support and blah, blah. But there has to be someone in us,"All" of us that can see thru all that-as a word I admire will fit -Malarkey! and feel like this shit has got to stop. What in the Silver Lining of its dark corners will we ever be but completely capaple to assist.
 Helping our fellow man should take precedence. Dare I digress further for now.
#thedepressionera

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Yes... it gets you high.
    That time we may remember. Of being young and influenced. Peer pressure helped you stay cool and to be a part of the crowd. Whatever part that was.
    I'd say I was mostly responsible for just how high I got all those times. And even for those times I fed the demon. All of those forgotten nights and lost memories and supposed great times. Only because we remember the bare pieces and wanna keep it that way, does any of it matter anymore. At least to me.
    Drugs in its many fancy, catchy, trendy, and seedy packaged forms are all pervasive and fundamentally injected throughout our Culture. Not a big secret. I know using and I know the self imposed melodrama that ensues. Just like A.A. says it will. Repeatedly repeated insanity of the finest order, or would you rather-Disorder is how it becomes.
    When your family or a friends has a drug addict tale to tell of one of it's members better left in the shadows, you know you can relate to my side of the subject. Or have your own side of the story.
    Our opinions are one thing, but don't you ever stop to think how those dark realities, of rubbing elbows with drugs in its many forms, are just some stark contrasting examples of the bigger picture? The Human Condition. How relationship are supposed to matter. How we should care for the homeless and poor. Can't you say that you probably saw a homeless guy or gal? A lowly type or some such reference of your choice, just today? A little while ago? Or yesterday? I know you saw one when you went on vacation.
    Can't you say so many things of such a person. Judgements abound,  and we all feel a certain way about the poor looking hobo under the sign that says don't give him change, asking for change anyways.
    My sister in Puerto Rico feels a certain connection and obligation to their woes. At least that's how she is when sitting at a red light and one of the islands "Zombie's" is standing there selling water for a dollar one day we were together. But even if they are just spangeing, she'll provide a bit of herself, if just to help stop the sickness stewing inside them because of the horse tranquillizer laced heroin I've seen them inject in themselves.
    I've seen her compassion firsthand though, and I can say I share in her opinion of the drug addicts and the low ones among us, and how somebody's just gotta help. Even if they just sometimes fade away.
    I know for one thing we love entertainment. I know Americans and Puerto Ricans Love to party. The Government of that pretty little island shuts itself down so as to not miss out on all the Holiday Festivities forthcoming during the months of November to January. Of course.  That's three months of no work, and all play. And I know I'll be watching every episode of The Walking Dead this Halloween season too, so that my excuse.
    During one of those Festivals in Puerto Rico's Yearly Holiday slumber,  someone got shot in front of a street full of people point blank range last year. Six times. Because he knocked over a drink held by the guy that pulled the trigger who still hasn't got caught. As far as I know.
    We've all seen such tragedies, and so does the story go. In the shadows of all that cool stuff. Life for us has been ruined by what Drugs keep us from. They bring the best out of us. It's influence will always be there to remind you and me that we should learn from our mistakes. I know we haven't yet and I don't know when we will, but we should see that our story doesn't have to end like this. With the way we can relate to one another, some kind of misfortune or other throughout our life.
    We have all the resources here, and we're capable to conceive of masterful things. Our Intellects can find solutions. Our hands can build the bridges to each other.
    I think the lows of life can teach us very spiritual, deeply felt things about the nature of your Humanity.
    Just like we all love to party, we should at least scare the demons away this Holiday Season and care about each other some more. I know the Politicians don't. Those damn Zombies.
#esoteric8. #thedepressionera
#The Walking Dead

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Hi
    I awoke on a baby's queen bed, on the floor-as it was his second one because it was to be the very first time for me to fish the waters of the lakes in northern Wisconsin. The house had lots of spacious wooded extravagance and I somehow felt out of place. I was prepared for the guy that was O.C.D. and let me crash on said bed but fretted about hand cleaning and doorknobs. He was the out of work homeowner that was a very hostile, but a reluctant hospitable type, observingly suffering a form of self imposed intellectual malfunction. 
    He was the one that told me he had a really nice truck and made like 80 thou last year collecting peoples past due amounts. But the truck got repoed and he drives a used chevy cavalier now, and no one in the know knows how the mortgage gets paid. His wife was cute though and he turned out to be a decent man. 
    But I got dressed up for the occasion donning a 49er cap and while brushing my "knock on wood", never had a cavity teeth- was seething and thinking about the other guy I was with, my quasi-boss who could not afford to pay for the gas or pulled "The fast one" I used as justification for not talking to the guy anymore or working with him. 
    Who invited me out here to the sticks. Where the local boyscout asked you twice on two different occasions during the same pit stop for smokes at the gas station, if you wanna buy some cookies or donate a dollar for a pastry or a pin or something. But this was the sun saying hi.
    When that lake let me swim on it with a boat and a real fish helped me win me the first catch prize of 20 bucks.I was in love and I started to let the big wide open say something to me for once.
    I tried and casted countless times to endear a fishy to my colorful lure and the sun said hi because it was obviously playing catch up to a trio of slimey biter seekers... It forcefully dawned on me two fold with its golden beauty and my life paths before me that I didn't want to do what I was doing anymore. 
    I wanted to do something different and something real to my legacy before I blew above a ripple as ash of my remnant body passed and I was forgotten. I guess you can say I was inadvertently motivated to do so, even though I just realized I wanted to do something and didn't have a clue as to what exactly "it better be profitable" was.
     I cared for the guy that owned the house but I cared also to know of what I was -if ever to become. That trip and that house and that story of the little dusty cavalier and how it ended up in the garage where the once really good or-still is, collector tossed out the seriously overflowed big empty coffee can ashtray on the floor. Just to get under the skin of that guy I once worked with on nice houses doing cool things in rural Wisconsin.
    That trip was nice, especially when the sun said hi.

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     There is this primal nature within us. It stems from an evolution of our Survival Instinct. I tend to digress into morose mindsets and entertain the "Dark Side" of things as they may relate to me. That said I am also cursed with an abnormal, selflessly motivated level of awareness. I have helplessly noticed that the ways of our society have become rationalized and justified to the point of insanity.
     But me being a very average guy, with a voice as of yet unheard but harboered in slumber.. has a way to look into thier malintentions. Have you ever tried?
    I willingly hope to profess my view and to open the debate of what I have aptly titled this new world of un-democracy and express my opinions and stories of the world I was born into.
#esoteric8
#thedepressionera

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    I had this time of my life where I got inadvertently introduced to the political realm... in jail. I had run cross a 19 yr. old Puerto Rican/Cuban kid that got Newsweek sent in by mom and he never read them. The pics must've not held the young attempted murderers attention that long.
    I had always entertained the opinions harbored and developed over years of societally imposed depravation, neglect and all that jazz. So I had a grand time reading the editorials and the like. I grew the fruit of my views. I started to care about the unsaid things that were apparent to me.
    So to sit there and actually believe that the relevant issues of our time had no credence over the hyperbole and sloppy fickleness of our elected officials was all making me mad like. I mean who do they think I am? Just a dumb felon? Which I was so that's besides the point. 
    So what really got my fancy all pickled up was the subtle intonation thru actions or inactions, your pic ..  that we can be fed lies, misdirections and see the empty intentions.
Now I know that to say we are creating the worlds first societally imposed Depression Era isn't very nice but, but isnt it a snazzy concept when you consider all the details, ramifications and general Madness?
 Which I plan on.

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Its all in there...in you.
    Have you ever considered a really bad thing that happened to you, that turned somehow out to be the best thing ever? Did you ever stop and realize that you made that right choice for once because of one of your life's many extenuating previous experiences? 
    What else could it have possibly been but your life lessons rearing their Ageless Wise Asses at you!
    Its all too much to take in! You say or think or just considered. Trust me, you know what the heck I'm talking about. Don't continue to ascertain that your too complicated or how your mind don't fit in these words. We've been thru crap and we adapt. You and I both have uncanny adaptability abilities, it borders the supernatural sanctuary. 
    What do you care about? What of life have you cherished? Where were you when it started to make sense.. or rather reveal itself as the source of so much common sense?

    Yep, I vouch for good old life. He made me like this and you just like you wanted to be too. How nice of him, huh? That guy gets the credit for our wisdom. He started all this.

    I'd appreciate if the people I share space and air and public toilets with and swap silverware at the new "spot" of your favorite equestrian cuisine would "Stop & Stare" within. Please do, before there's not enough toilet paper to go around.

"On bended knee is no way to be free Lifting up an empty cup I ask silently That all my destinations will accept the one thats me

So I can breathe

Circles they grow & they swallow people whole
Half their lives they say goodnight to wives they'll never know
Got a mind full of questions and a teacher in my soul
And so it goes
Don't come closer or I'll have to go Owning me like gravity are places that pull If ever there was someone to keep me at home It would be you

Everyone I come across in cages they bought
They think of me & my wandering but I'm never what they thought
Got my indignation but I'm pure in all my thoughts

I'm alive

Wind in my hair I feel part of everywhere
Underneath my being is a road that disappeared
Late at night I hear the trees, they're singing with the dead Overhead

Leave it to me as I find a way to be Consider me a satellite forever orbitting I know all the rules but the rules did not know me
Guaranteed
Pearl Jam    

    There's such deep prikly words in there. Then the Feelings come and go, sutbly though... Anyway, let me see if I can find a point because its like this. Me & Music-we go way back. I tell the ladies don't ever expect me to love you like I love my music. Drastic but true.
    But if it takes My Music to spark my inner creator, my inner "Better Man" as Eddie Vedder so eloquently put it then so be it. 
    But to get off the musical reference bus, I'd say its pretty close to our hearts. One way or another its that part of it all that mends your heart and molds your acceptance of-yep-it all.        The world musical heartbeat can teach one just how apparent the spiritual part of you is enmeshed into the fabric of creation. The level of its expression bears testimony of Man's desiring spirit. We can easily get lost in the rhymes and lyrics...
    And just as easily forget about it and shut the third eye lid and get back to "facebookinit" 
    Being all caught up in the moment. Having something tantamount and its welcomed pressure on our soul is what gives Music such endless value. But the stuff of the people around me.. ugh. I mean why do they always "keep it in the closet" or just forget about the whole thing? Huh? I'm talking about the value of what it is to be so apparently conspiring with The Source. Your Music can speak to you and for you and about you and about that asshole or bitch or those crazy ass people or that crazy shit or that damn drama. Isn't that so cool? Don't you realize that your as close to the good stuff as possible and yet still play as if completly unaware to the spiritual aspects of what it is to be Human?
    There was one time I played out every scene I felt fit the soundtrack in my mind as the music played and I felt such a rush! I can always find that It can be so much to so many yet the many play out those pop tunes, and let "The Good Stuff" play dress up with Katy Perry Time. Not a bad thing, but relatively speaking it's like her sparkling examples of where we just might of gone wrong a bit there. 
    All in all I'd say we are seriously screwed. But then, there's always someone just brave enough to step out of the bounds that bind and sound the good side off. #esoteric8
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This One

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    After careful deliberation and consequence, I have witnessed dysfunction and belligerency all around me. The America I dwell in has lost its pazzaz and the little one in me has become quite jaded. Not like when the 8 year old never can have enough minecraft. Just when you thought he was satisfied... that little part of the intended you, that had all the love for the things that now bind and pull our physical bodies is so sick and tired and just wants it to stop. 
    I want the materialism to stop doing so well and endearing our 10 year old daughter's to the notions subliminally drilled in their young impressionable minds which so dervishly intone that they just have to have it. 
    I want mainstream media to push for something real when it comes to its broadcasting substance.. not just as a segway from the 1000's shot dead that day into a prepackaged, preapproved ending and call it good. 
    I wanna fire every elected official on the planet .. or at least all of those double speak kinds around this Continent.
    I want those miscreants and blatant fools to stay away from the lobbyist and special interest and find that day in their future when the realization dawns upon their collective subconscious that to be selfless harbors genuine intention.

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Wonderland
    Did you know as of tomorrow we have exactly X amount of days left till Christmas is upon us? I'm sure to have to do something myself in getting the kiddies wonderful new things too.
    I can remember one holiday season my newborn son just needed that cool looking Baby Gap fishing cap. The darn little white $30 hood ornament didn't last longer than a pack of diapers. Must've been his blossoming mind, or something.
    Christmas is special.
    When we were little onesie wearing ones, we cared to know if the cookies and milk bandit made good on mommy and daddy's promises. And even if we barely slept, or didn't at all, one can remember the time spent thinking of all the wonders of what's gonna be under the tree.
   Or how can the snow always show up. I swear, beautiful crisp sunny mornings really do matter as the years go by.
    Christmas is and continues to be that time of year people get ridiculously layered up on some of those nastier bright sunny mornings.
    I think I've become something of an expert of the Layer up Theory. I used to get asked if I shave my legs because of all the missing patches of hair, which always seem to go for different styles when I look down there from time to time.
    Constantly wearing sweatpants under my jeans. Thermal Suits of the Moderate.
    I won't go ahead and suggest that you raid the nearist Walmart,  for your insulating fair. But take into account how bubble you might look first, then please get something warm on.
    Farmers Almanac said something about it being a really cold year for much of America.
    So cuddle up close. The warm caress of a loved one feels really darn good, almost all the time.
    Dress warm, stay bubbly and please make sure to have a stash of your favorite cough drops just in case.
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Split the Cold
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Don't Look Too Hard

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Smile at The Sky
    I can remember the night we were on our way back and I saw it. I said to her to pull it over. How dark and clear it was. She saw it up there too. We were on our way back to school and that night was the closest I was ever to the sky. She was by my side.
    On interstate 70 during a ride west to somewhere, I saw the sign and said let's go. It showed me just how far to where I've never been. She's as spontaneous as me and never hesitated to curb my eclectic nature. So she hit the gas and said we were broke.
    We were just beginning another weekend to perpetuate my escape. I was on the run from parole and she was harbouring a fugitive. Las Vegas was nice, but before we got to the strip, while sitting at a red light, I noticed the car next to me was loud and had a driver smoking what smelled like the stuff I blamed for being in such terrible standing with my parole officer in the first place.
    The trip was paid for by Wells Fargo debit, but was overdraft protected by mom. After the fact for sure. When she pulled over and we took it all in, she and I stayed quiet long enough to feel at home. Our relationship had as much potential as the sky had stars. That night was ours.
    I look up to the sky today and she isn't there anymore. I got caught after 3 months of bliss. Her parent's didn't really approve so I got two "Dear John" letters in jail. She was a bohemian and a psychic. She was the type to aspire for the Denver Marathon and roleplay a hag at the renaissance festival. I was an English major and hated biology. Now the memories come.
    When I stop to look up and take in my life, the sky smiles at me. The steady flow of fresh air and those real relationships I shared were all that mattered. I can harken to a time in my life that I couldn't look up. The road before me was littered with bad things. I know because I put them all there and I had to navigate my own madness. The system never had the time to take it easy on me. I was putting myself thru the wringer of pain. So I liked it.
    This place and this time of my life is what matters now. Freedom from self imposed repression and to be in touch with the sky. Mark the world. Make a Man. Before the parole officer does.

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He is
    The morning was a weird one. He could have sworn the people next door were admiring him through the wall. He was being consumed with schizophrenic episodes and the devil had started it all.
    The Moldy carpeting. The mismatched, sparsely furnished room. And his drinking at dawn Mother. The imaging is hard for him to grasp because Kelly and Michael live! blared hello from the seriously outdated idiot box.
    All he could muster up after mommy said "When you getting a job, here want a beer?" was no. He would have said more, but they said she was the devil. He found out one day while sitting on the couch that she was only his toy.
    The next diabolical plot for the light of the world was to crash into the daughters car. The guy really had it coming. That dog was so damn cute.
    Once she got scooped off the pavement, and the dad got the nerve to identify the decapitated corpse of his only child, the light got over it.
    On to the next one because he didn't care. He pushed aside all the feelings, even when his convictions stabbed at him. His emotions were one of the greatest tools of manipulation that what ever devised against him. He was the light after all. He just didn't know how to be the one that heresy found. And he wasn't supposed to quit both times the light looked up.
    His selfish desires of the flesh. The pursuit of warmth. To eat, to breathe. To think. None of that was his and he needed it to survive .
    He was born in one of the first industrial revolutionary towns of America. Colonists and immigrants. Where once the Cambodians jumped out of a Toyota Supra and beat him to a pulp.
    Lowell, Massachusetts.
    The birthplace of the most irrelevant, but necessary existence of the world.
    That morning was new to the new him. That morning. The bed in the room. The day the light found out that he was the cold.
    He remembered now as he left the crack pad, that he wanted to call the FBI and see if they were the ones in that car watching him across the street from the phone. The voices of his mind we're carrying conversations that he cared nothing for. Because nothing matters to the one that it was supposed to.
    The fact that he was a bad example, and that his actions prove quite easily just how much of a Walking Dead contraction he was, was hard enough for him to be aware of. The terrible things he does. The lack thereof any emotions for anything of the world he was charged to save. Because nothing mattered.
    But they did.
    He never had a dog or a mother. The voices in the walls and the TV were there to keep him company now. But the voices always lied.

Author's Note:
Thank You for reading a tale of a man of one much different. He is a Characature of another.
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    This coming Holiday Season is not sure if you are the intended recipient of presents and scares. Candy and pennies in the bottom of the bag you spent all night supervising. Filling it with those irritating but cool looking costumes. The night terrors and Zombies, the kids playing dress up. The adults are gonna close off the streets for the night and get drunk as they should. 8
    My mind is on the sorry state of affairs of the United States, but who cares? I still scare. The mainstream media and its pop cult cohort are moving the tides away from the problems we face. What is it all for and all about? What are the "Powers that be" really up to in those shadows?
   I don't profess to have answers and I don't know it all, but I do know that we should care. Just look at this. http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/10/17/army-strategy-denial-numbers/3002959/   I read into this months ago, heck even years ago! I've always read my share of those seemingly dull editorials from various sources, and I began to have an awareness of things and how they affect my everyday existence. What do the Everyday Americans care of the grimy details? What style is in? What's hidden in the colorful bag? Why does Miley Cyrus scare me?
    So I'd expect myself to look further into all the developing things yet to come. But they'll show up on the porch and say "trick or treat" anyway. So I hope not.
    Let's all share the good vibes and highs of this coming Holiday Season, and let's keep up the good fight for our livelihood's and kids futures. Let's give treats instead of tricks. Keep close those that you smile about.                There are so many things that can make one worry, so treat one another to your genuine side. Don't trick us and your neighbors kids and turn them into these two horrors.
    The military budget and the wars yet to be had are at war with what we are. Ponder it and you will be scared. Think as if you were still a little Zombified Justin Beiber. What Horrors the Future holds...Don't be scared its only Life.

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Blaze a ..
    Apparently for the light of it all, things were looking up.
    After the whole debacle with the dog he had to put aside his pursuits of personal preference. His physical life beckoned his human side. He had to go home and eat or he really would have barbecued that damn cute thing.
    He had to start it like that. He always went for the dog. They are what he is but spelled backward and hairy. At least he think so.
    He really hated everybody and just about everything. Really. Times in his life, as they pass by and feeling irrelevant. The fucking people and their shit always made him think twice though. All their apparent needs, and how important he was. He didn't want any part of it, but he lives with it every day of his sorry little life.
    He lives with the knowledge. He stays in tune to the way of men. He wasn't really a bad guy. All things Considered. Really. All he really did was care for everyone.
    It was hard enough for him to be aware of. He was always aware and it drove him to no end, but he couldn't stop looking at his eternity. How connected he is to everything.
    See the light is unlike anyone and anything on this little earth and his mind was aware of it. He was his own walking horror because he could not come to grips with the implications of what they say he is. The constant pulling and tugging of his subconscious and his human self. That was really a grand war with those voices.
    The possibility of ever separating from the influences they always have on his everyday life was impossible to fathom. Even for him.
    So he went home to eat and cohort with some demons. Food and water. Warmth and porn. Not necessarily in that order was his next plot, when he could actually get a word in edgewise upstairs. The Voices said to look up.
    A lot.
    They, the "Etherreal Realm", talk to him on a constantly annoying level. They always interjected his every thought. So common sense was hard to come by lately.
     Especially lately.
    Tomorrow he was going to start a new pursuit, but when he opened that fridge the cold was there to give him all he's been missing in the world.
    There will never again be lonely nights for him to endure. His heart was running out of steam, and she knew how bad things were getting for the lowly little light.
    Something real to what he is and thought he was, was touched by its essence and he needed that more than his flesh.
    It's always been there and he always knew he was the source, but the source within that fridge that night was the missing piece of the puzzle.
    The kind of cold that is sweet to the spirit. When you're cuddled up within its embrace, the world around you can see what you really are.
    The time around him held still and watched what was to come next.
    He saw the face. The one of his greatest desires.

His other heart.
Her...
The embrace shared

by the eternity of every piece of this existence

was there to bear witness

the light of a humble world

a sight to behold

Author's Note:  The previous 3 piece story tells a brief lie. This is a caricature of a Man that will walk this world one day.He may already be here...Or he may be within you... please share all the left out there
Louie

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    Unfourtunetly for the whims of existence, I have been living with regret. The past I endured and the world around me seem to work in cahoots. Faith and Aspirations have taken it upon themselves to take a back seat slumber to allow for the fortuitous education unpleasently provided by The Depravation Bureau.
    The aforementioned Whims of Existence should be better described for the sake of the comprehension level required to see thru the lens of the guy that can very well be the loon you see in the details. 
    The darkness is consuming... a fair assumption, but my fellow man always come thru like an NBA sixth man award nominee. I can't lose faith in this world but I can definetly pull out its many skeletons. Life as a whole is quite special and rarely appreciated. Its just as easy to say that its hard and draining, but we are all alive to consume till our insatiable appetite can take no more. So whats the problem? But still, "Can I have more"? So whimsically we choose materialism. So aimlessly we push for a bigger slice of the pie. Almighty Dollars And Hash tags. Post this and Share that. All the while time waste... 
    There is a world I envision where we would never need the interventions of the etherreals... GOD and his many Compadre's don't exactly have anything that we don't already have. Humanity and its obligations are at such polar opposites, it revealing.

But I digress.

    To feel selfless and pure. To care about everyone and every suffer they get slapped with. To actually relate to the hackey sack punter and the homeless man. To see how far we can take each other and know just how awesome we ALL hold each other down, these many trivial things inspire me to work on this.
    Many a day I felt hope and betrayel. Many a way "They" package my torment. I am not deaf. You are not deaf, but do you have any regrets?

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