THE GOOD, BAD, AND THE UGLY

I could write a lie and truth of myself, of my actions, of the good, bad, and the ugly, how my dance with them brought me here within these barren walls, among the many home of hardships and madness, sad blessed were the days when my direction didn't take me crashing against the rocks. He that knows not of the love I speak of does not see the beauty locked in grit, the hope one fails to admit. Cut off from all those men and women, I traveled among the cut-offs, I traveled and loved, I hoped and lived, many lives for blessed is he who sees the hopeless blessed, unloved not as mess, but as little drops of that vast infinite flux of energy, that did, does and always will love all of its children, the good, bad, and the ugly. If you want to see me when I'm gone visit a house of the lost in any city of life and in the morning hours when most awake you will see me, happy in my twirl, ready with a smile to begin a day, to begin a day that never ends.