Mess

I wasn't supposed to make it, but I did.

The odds were against me...  I was insane, inane, pounding the pavement with angst on my feet, eyes obfuscated by my dreams, those bewitching nightmares of cocaine and drug addicted fiends that befriended me every which way and that and then some.

Of course I had to.  My mind wanted and fought and sought to obtain more and everything bad to prove to myself

that I could,

that I could,

that I could,

that I wasn't afraid, that I was tough, and nasty, and mean.  I became a cockroach because of it, making nice to to scum and the like because I thought that was cool, that was the way to go, and coke-whored my way through North Beach --pretending of course--  aye, sigh.

But I'm grateful to be where I am today, who I am today, no bonds or chains to hold me back. Addicted no more to a gangsta rapist who drugged me with his "love" and murdered me with his soul; slashing me to pieces so that when I left, I collapsed in a mound on the sidewalk while people walked around me gaping, pointing, staring.

Nope!  Now I am whole, loving, a creature of modest means, of high hopes and big dreams.  Happy to be making my way through this thing called life, haunted no more by heinous crimes, and twisted lies inflicted upon the soul, the heart and everywhere else.

Now, Jesus fills me top to bottom, yes siree Bob, and I can say that life, in all its raw beauty, sings an eternal heart song at once wrenching, at once glad, that I can finally live with.