I wrote this... I think in my sophomore year of highschool. Which would make it five or six years old. I can't be sure but I think it's partially about my history teacher lol.
To be pitied you sing of promiscuity and reak of lonely thoughts a vacancy in your head a zombied attempt that's dead tell us what you're after my head, my bed, my sanity find me where you look to me and see that I am an undesired interloper following your humorless eyes as they drift over me, I lose my sanity fighting this prejudice of circumstance never looking for the second glance but ever moving towards the burning entrance maybe this life wasn't meant to be maybe this lie was death for me you build a wall in your stubborness ripping me to pieces just to keep me from the threshold feeling the scrutiny too hot to bear you turn from me, knowing you're wrong but screaming victory, screaming boastfully, screaming desperately, screaming insanity.
Inside the Methadone Clinic. Addiction to heroin, methadone, and other opiates. Destruction. The primal addiction" of the child, power and control over your own life, the institutions and the characters, the love between a mother and son. This book i
This book is an autobiographical account of the lessons I learned about life and how I was able to apply them to inspire, motivate and empower others in my own work as a firefighter, as well in my daily life as a husband, a father and a man. When I w
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