Doldrums and other stuff.

Why is it you only hit me up when you’re mad at your man? Is it because you know I’ll hold your hand? Give you a shoulder to cry on, and understand. You’ll go back, and I’ll sit here wondering, when will I make a stand? After every time I tell myself, “no more being your emotional crutch. Never again will I put myself out there to support the stupidity of out all.” You’re afraid of change and I get that, but obviously you’re unhappy. But then again, I will continue to sit here waiting because I know you’ll need me. To brush away the tears, and boost you back up. Because I am strong even though inside I feel like crumbling, and it’s what I do because I care about you.

Lonely orchid


Vibrant petals, spread wide open,
Embracing the air and light.
Smiling, its colorful grin,
Wanting to wrap me in its aroma.

Sweet tastes, flood my palette,
Filling me with joy.
Must take it in, in its entirety,
For time moves too quickly.

But memories, oh jubilant memories,
Remain forever, deep within my soul.

Self reflections of a lonely heart

When you tire from the relationship games; when all your advances are me with avoidance or rejection; it is hard to keep faith that you will find love. You start having meaningless sexual encounters to satiate your overactive libido, but you remain hollow. I miss having someone who its the highlight of my day. Who I am eager to converse with, and the longing to have physical contact with is ever present. It’s one of the few things that saves me from believing I am a sociopath.
A pretty, intelligent woman who had interest in me is difficult to find, because most smart women are smart enough to avoid someone who is broken. Someone like me.
I have been clawing my way back from hitting rock bottom, where I was not due to drugs or alcohol, but an addiction to a person. For what ever reason she still has a draw on me, talons still hooked on my soul ever so slightly. Where I occasionally wonder if it would be ok to return. I compare prospective women to her, to see if they measure up.
So I sit here stumbling through the murky swamp of relationship purgatory. Sifting through the debris and muck, hoping to find that person who overshadows my past and brightens my day.

Ink me baby one more time.

Héctor the octopus
Héctor the octopus
The jolly roger
The jolly roger
Krieg und frieden
Krieg und frieden


I have six tattoos, four pictured here. I couldnt find pictures of the other two and i am too lazy to ask my coworker to take pictures of them. Each one has significance to who i am.

My newest tattoo is Héctor the octopus which is pictured first. I have always found Cephalopods to be one of the most interesting creatures. They are highly intelligent invertebrates, who adapt instantaneously to their environment. Avid hunters, but are some times prey for other predators. I fancy myself to be similar to the octopus so it seemed to be a logical tattoo choice.

The second tattoo pictured is a tattoo I’ve had for about 11 years. Everyone should recognize the jolly roger. I decided to add the mohawk to the classic jolly roger. It represents the group of friends i had in the army,and we called ourselves the land locked pierats. We were young and rebellious and understood we were tools of war. Pawns of military-industrial complex, accepting or fate that we may die at any moment in service to our nation and embracing death as a comrade and natural order.

The last two are my guns. They are .44 magnums with krieg and frieden (war and peace) embossed on the barrels. I have had a saying since my time in the military that goes, “Only death can take my sword!” I won’t stop fighting for what i believe in, until my heart stops beating. Krieg is on my right arm which is my dominant hand. It’s the arm i favor in throwing punches and the one that pulls the trigger on my firearms. Frieden is on my left arm close to my heart.

I also have a battle worn Texas flag on a sabre because being a Texan is who i am and I’m proud to be one.

I want more, so many more. The urge for needle and ink to create beautiful art on a living canvas is always present. They are not for everybody, but for those who have them they understand the want for more. I’m just debating on what to get next.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Tattoo….You?.”

America’s Game

Friday night lights
Lead to Saturday stories
All in hopes of Sunday glories.

Turf under foot
Sweat on the brow
To hear cheers all around.

Life in the trenches
Death through the air
Pounding the ground will all get you there.

Blood, sweat, and tears
Pushing through pain
All for the love of the game.

Battles of the gridiron
No weekend the same
When you love,