I've made some solid friends here, albeit virtual.....solid none the less.

I do see a shit storm on the horizon though and like every other card carrying cow-ard I will seek out greener pastures.

I will allow this post to stand for 48 hours then I will deactivate MilesNowhere.

Happy trails ya'll.........love Tony

Near us, a brick chimney,

Blue smoke disappearing—

On farther, past red rooftops,

Past white walls,

Between black wires and grey poles

And beyond them and past

Parked cars and factory asphalt—

Far off, at a great distance,

Rising up in our eyes;

Many tress and farther still,

A cloudless sky.

But too late by then.

Too late.

Long and gone away, too late.

the fabric

frayed

weave so loose

to barely hold a thread

more than fair

given the grind of years

and the way of us

us -

flung of tornadoes

spat to ground

at every stutter

we have lived together

beyond this love

lost of knowing

the how of why

..........

I see you now

as I see me

drawn -

quartered by passion

longing the second wind

inside tender skin

hands twitch

to stitch torn sails

red sky at night

I awake and theres a tree branch only inches from my face.

The steering wheel is pressed hard against my chest. Looking down, I can't see my legs, they are encased within folds of plastic and metal.

Attempting to move and the pain shoots up my spine with such a surge that it feels as if my head will explode.

Everything around me is washed with blood. From the look of things.....my blood.

My mind assumes it's merciless default position with total contempt for my immediate dilemma, as if this predicament is an everyday occurrence.

It says ; right out of left field

I've proven to be a crap judge of character when it comes to women.

As if I am hell bent on pursuing a cycle of action to ultimately reach rock bottom through poor choices and indifference.....

I sneeze and my body tightens into spasms spiking another surge of pain.

'Oh fuck' thats an oak tree. 'Why does it have to be a fucking oak tree?'

Snot and blood drip from my nose as I curse the allergen.

It also says:

She seemed so innocuous. Mousy, softly spoken and even tempered. I bet the farm on her based on appearances and poor research.

Someone once told me that you roll the dice and hope for the best in all things. Even though I imagined myself punching below my weight..... snake eyes.

Then I remembered the briefcase. Carefully turning my head, I hoped to catch a glance of it in the backseat. From my vantage point though, all I could see was foliage, broken glass and a pizza box.

Returning my gaze to the oak tree. My eyes started to water.

It continues :

I spent 19 years with that psychotic bitch. I could never have imagined that such an unassuming vessel could hold such a scheming and manipulative entity.

A house.....check. Three kids.....check..Trapped into years of compromise......check..

2010 turned to shit. Under orders from the matriarch, my kids discharged me from my paternal duties. My business fell apart from my own inertia and I found myself alone and staring into the empty void of what was left of my pathetic busted life.

Depression is a strange animal. It forces you into embracing the limiting machinations of your bastard mind as all awareness and intuition leaves the host.

No longer can I feel my legs. My hands reach under the crumpled dash in an attempt to tweak some feeling. Nothing. The branch coaxes another sneeze..........nothing.

My body feels cold and my mind continues it's sadistic onslaught.

It concludes :

Its a surreal moment after you spend a lifetime observing yourself under such concrete illusions only to finally watch the foundations fall away.

Theres a groundlessness that sets in that cannot easily be communicated.

All ideas of you become a vague memory. What is left is a shell. You crawl inside that shell as it is the only place left to go.

I am constantly amazed by the narrative and analogies it spits out. I gave up identifying with it when I was a kid, I just figured I'd been given the wrong one is all.

My vision is blurry and I can no longer swallow.......

Without family or livelihood my moral compass went haywire. I returned to old ways.

The Iranian offered me a foot back in the door. I accepted his deal. It seemed like easy money and I needed the distraction.

When things went ass up at the meet I seized the moment, grabbed the briefcase and floored it.

Trapped here, pinned inside this tin can all I have for company are waves of unrelenting thought and the dead weight of my pointless existence.

There is movement outside the car. The sound of a heavy accent and loose ground under foot.

I hear a branch snap and I close my eyes.

I continue to watch my tormented life on playback all the while hoping that my circumstances beat the bullet to it's mark. .

Either way.........it ends here.

Thats all folks........

Fuck your 'can do' mantra

Them puking mouths

Of liver lipped hawkers

Those dry boned closers

Squawking from sidewalks

Casting unveiled glances

To the bleaches of left field

Your valley gurl antics

WTF LOL

We cry

more...more

My God what have we become?

Like totally

Like my pic

Lick my life

If I hear the word awesome

One more time

I will kill a fairy

Maybe get good with God

Before your final hour

Hell, I’ll hedge my bets

And surrender to your creed

Maybe grab a Bud and

Turn tricks

In vinyl seats

Stuck like muck

To the asshole interior

Of a Chevy Ego

Take your three hundred channels

Of high resolution

Spewing airbrushed anchormen

With their 15 minutes of shame

Hey, pin it on the timeline

Piss it on the grapevine

Of twitter and Instagram

Yeah mam!

The bar is closing

As you shuffle deck chairs

On a sinking ship

It’ll take us under

And beach us dry

We'll no doubt comply

As we are prone

To breathe it in

Bloated full throated

Plastic lips

Sucking dead air

Like a dying whore

With stage three candy crush

s w e e t

Just go

Please

Because I know that everyone is tuned into our life together...........theres this.

The missus @AmandaCary and I have decided to : sell the house, buy a new truck and trailer, homeschool the brats and live off the grid.

Crazy you say? Crazy like a fox I say.

This white picket fence bullshit is doing our heads in.

All things must change in radical new ways.

Because I know that everyone is tuned into our life together......I'll keep you posted.

Peace be with you ;)

It was unexpected. To make that leap of faith, only to hit solid earth and to smash the machine.

Expectations and wishful thinking played their part in that collapse. I imagine that faith comes from a different place and answers to no master. I imagined.

As humans, we do what we do with what we have. The kicker : a course of a life is altered in a heartbeat or carefully cultivated through years of analysis. Ultimately though, we call it as we see it at the moment or feel it or whatever you know IT to be.

The homecoming was easy. It was a dream manifested. It is all there was and nothing beyond.

After that, there would be no more dragons to slay or bridges to be built. There was only the arriving home

A leap of faith doesn't have a next step. At least it didn't in my mind. I imagined it as completion.

Yet I didn't entertain the mundane....the base level scrambling to exist.

So here we stand. Connected through heart yet forced to survive the mindless onslaught of circumstance.

Here we stand. As spectators forced into playing in the game.

at the end of all things ;

we may be saved,

though salvation

is not of our hands.

at the dawn into light;

we may be blinded,

though clarity

was only illusion.

beyond the bars

we search the skies.

A doorway.

The piece of folded paper lies at the threshold as if a sentry.

White, crisp and neat, its form a perfect 2 inch square.

I could stoop down and pick it up, read it's message.

Easily I could have done that. It would have been the obvious recourse.

Only words after all and I'm sure the world would still turn after reading them.

Avoiding their significance, I chose to negate from their content.

If in fact a content existed.

A piece of paper. Maybe a suicide note or a shopping list..... a manifesto or a love letter.

I'll never know and even though I am comfortable with not knowing - it will always be a piece of paper in a doorway that I walked away from.

Withholding is also expression.

there are moments

at the mirrors edge

or in fullness of flight

perhaps on the porch

in dusk's dim light

the dust from toil

soiled on hands

or in that moment

as I crash to land

to forget (myself)

glimpsing a fragment

and holding sight

as if in grasping

for the night that

ebbs and slips away

then the dog starts up

at the end of day

always