Moonlight Passion

Close your eyes, he said.

Open your mind and find me.

hear me.

taste me.

Here offers me


Offer it to me again

Tell me of its power and slickness

How it moves our bodies and entwines the soul

Bring me back

Bring me down

Show me touch and let me slide into your arms again

My tongue is your master and your fingers, my slave

Once again

Show me passion

Something I have never known

Someone I have yet to feel

Be my passionate lover

Hold me when I’m scared

Be my friend lying in the field and dancing in the rain.

Slick, smooth, tightly held

Is this the beginning of a movement of two hearts?

Simply grasp it, stroke and remember.

It’s a start.



When you wake up at 2am and your mind wants to review your life’s history fast forwards and all you want to do is sleep. Only the sadness and disappointment show through and you wonder, am I cursed? Cursed to live like this. Dream like this. Love like this. Be like this. Stealing lines from songs trying to pinpoint my emotionless void. I wonder more and more “Am I cursed?” Events through my life pursue me like a shadow falls from view as I pass. I try to shake them from my memory but the memories flow to fast. So I blank it out. Block it out. And sit here. Truly alone at 2 am.

DIH 15/18

My ex-best friend. Where r u?


I was afraid you’d hit me if I’d spoken up I was

Afraid of your physical strength I was afraid

You’d hit below the belt I was afraid of your

Sucker punch I was afraid of you reducing me

I was afraid of your alcohol breath I was afraid

Of your complete disregard for me I was afraid

Of your temper I was afraid of handles being

Flown off of I was afraid of holes being punched

Into walls I was afraid of your testosterone

I have as much rage as you have

I have as much pain as you do

I’ve lived as much hell as you have

And I’ve kept mine bubbling under for you

You were my best friend

You were my lover

You were my mentor

You were my brother

You were my partner

You were my teacher

You were my very own sympathetic character

I was afraid of verbal daggers I was afraid of the

Calm before the storm I was afraid for my own

Bones I was afraid of your seduction I was afraid

Of your coercion I was afraid of your rejection

I was afraid of your intimidation I was afraid of

Your punishment I was afraid of your icy silences

I was afraid of your volume I was afraid of your

Manipulation I was afraid of your explosions

I have as much rage as you have

I have as much pain as you do

I’ve lived as much hell as you have

And I’ve kept mine bubbling under for you

You were my keeper

You were my anchor

You were my family

You were my savior

And therein lay the issue

And therein lay the problem

Songwriters: Alanis Morissette

Sympathetic Character lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group


If your mouth moves too often Silence it

Chattering pigeons pecking words of nothing




Grant me silence

Endless still mouths without lips

No flashing crooked teeth biting air

Let me float on a cloud going nowhere

Alone with Little Prince escaping crowded rooms

Letters crashing like lies

Sentences explode muddled without you.

I just want SILENCE.

Little Prince and I

DIH 8/18

A subtle DM – 🖤💜

Saturn touches the earth

And I am moved with sweat

Seeing it so close must surely mean the end

The rings so brightly blinding me

As the thunder shakes my heart


No fools here

You make my head swim

Float and drift

Lying safely on your image

Unknown reality

You must be drunk

Tricks and ego

Something different to do today

Ending the monotony

As Saturn lands on earth.


Been a little busy, in a good way!

I’ve been writing short stories about people with mental illness. Concentrating on characters who just happen to be ill and making them as identifiable as possible.

It’s important to me that these characters could be anybody. Not a stereotype or diagnoses, just a person going through a phase or situation.

My purpose is to help chip away at the stigma that is out there about those of us with BiPolar or Schizophrenia or depression and the list goes on…

I don’t want it to read like the PDA, but rather as a glimpse into someone’s life. There will be some triggering and tragic instances, but also some simple one. Which to a person without anxiety would be a simple task. But for those of us with anxiety, it’s a major undertaking.

There is a Writers’ Conference at Rutgers University I wish to attend. But money is an issue. When isn’t it when it comes to living on a very limited budget. I have to have the money for the conference and the money to get to and from the train. I’ll be taking a bus, to a train and then Lyft. Unless I can get enough to just take Lyft there and back, that would be heaven.

This is my mission and my dream. To get this book finished and attend this conference in June. Either way, I am writing this book.

The conference would put me in contact with publishers and fellow writers and give me a peek into what it takes to get your work out there. To find out if there is a market for my book or would I be creating one. I realize that I need to attend this conference in order to get a better understanding of what I intend to accomplish. In real terms and not just as a dream.

So, if you’re still reading. Please consider helping me attend this conference by clicking the link and hopefully contributing to my cause. Even if you don’t contribute a comment would be nice. We have to support each other and not be ashamed of who we are, and remember that our illness does not define us.

Thank You.

Donate to help me attend the conference, CLICK HERE.

Is it weakness

Second treatment for  bronchitis, I’ve been going through. Pills that you have to eat with and I don’t like eating 3 times a day. I try light meals, but need protein etc. to keep my stomach from hurting.

To think, all this weakness and phlegm and headaches and body ache. Are because I traveled to a high volume public area. I’ve been into the city and didn’t get this sick. Penn Station in NJ is a toxic farm. I saw roaches and it smelled and you didn’t really want to sit down. But I had a long wait. Somewhere in there and the train and the bus, I caught this shit.

I was exhausted and in massive pain, after I got home. Made me wonder about all the traveling I use to do without incident. And how now I feel so weak and old and I’m not even fifty yet.

I’ve got to crawl back into bed.

Basquiat is haunting me





I saw the movie Basquiat (movie link) this week. And I guess seeing it while reeling with bronchitis is not a good idea. I was doing my own trip. My thoughts turned from doing heroin, too living in bohemia. Thinking what the hell was I doing in college when all “THIS” was going on and why wasn’t I part of it. Because you chose college stupid and were too young. Only by seven years.

Basquiat (artist’s site) was an artist during the eighties. And a line from the movie is haunting my mind. I see surfing in the skies and I wonder, ‘what year is this?’ when I still see racism.

I think the bohemian lifestyle appealed to me the most. I would love to walk down the streets in my pajama’s. To seriously not give a shit and to do as I felt, without hurting anyone, but just because I was moved by the moment.

I want to write or polish my short story. I finished one and my grammar sucks. It’s been so long since the fourth grade. But that shouldn’t stop me. There’s a book in me. I feel these stories, my mind is churning with characters and scenes and dialogue and I do nothing.

Am I lazy? Right now I’m just sick. So I’ll concentrate on that and get over this right now. I keep looking for distractions from being caught up in my illnesses. When one stares me right in my face, one I love. If not now, when? Maybe never.

No one I’ve shown my short story too doesn’t like it and they’re not just being nice. I have asked them for only negatives. I’ve gotten some and went back and made changes. I even managed to write a short paragraph to add to the story. I need to fill in some spaces with more descriptive writing, but I can do that.

Part of me wants to jump onto the next story, but I need this one to feel complete.

And a course on grammar.

Still working on bronchitis, head not too clear. Still seeing surfers in the skyline and smiling.

The Blackest Wings






I felt the blackest wings attach to my back this morning

I awoke with them, rose out of bed and felt them flutter

Heaviness, burden and foreboding


Warrior wings of archangels, now were mine

Not to possess, I knew that.


They had brought me a message


Something soon would approach

Something as heavy as those wings

Those invisible wings that I could feel, yet not see

For they were cloud like, pitch black smoke


I carried these wings for three days

Each day, they became lighter

The darkness fading, but still attached


They are with me now,

Protecting me and aiding in the battle ahead.


Their appearance confused me

But now I understand

My body is at war with itself

And I take my Vorpal Sword in Hand.


DIH 01/09/16



Smile the widest smile and laugh the loudest

Give until it hurts, because it will hurt

it always hurts.

Joke about your past mistakes and losses

Lighten the mood.

Slip in a true feeling, a simple one, ever so slightly, the smallest utterance.

So no one will notice.

Can’t be caught with emotions exposed

For they will rip them and tear them from you like a slaughtered lamb

And we can’t have that.

Never expose the true pain

Numb it with alcohol, pills, work

and hours of sleep.

Hide it inside, the raw feelings, failures and losses

About to burst.

Let no one see, let no one know

Lest it all goes… poof.

DIH 12/09/15