Eyes on the ceiling…
Back to the ground…
Rain drops drop in a rhythmic sound…
Thinking about how my life would be…
Living without heroin and a felony…
My arms show the scars of a million pricks…
Result of a mountain of heroin bricks…
Experience that only earned me a fight…
Desire to live lies in my will to write…
Writing is my last shot at redemption…
Art and photography my only salvation…
The few worlds where pain gets you paid…
One of the trades I bring in spades…
No options but to carve my own path…
Stand up and give the haters my wrath…
Take away my voice but can’t take my pen…
Thanks to God I still have a friend…
My only option is to continue writing…
Accept reality and continue fighting…
I will never be a part of the white-collar crowd…
Searching for a way to make someone proud…
Looking for a reason… A will to live…
A continuing reason to charitably give…
Locked out of opportunity… Left alone…
Societal failure… I’m on my own…
Can’t look down I gotta keep looking up…
When my glass is half empty I’ll hit you with my cup…
The world always seems to be pushing me down…
The jokes on you… My best work is on the ground…
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plant petunias and question everything – chriscondello
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Another poem from the pen of chris condello,
writer and gorilla gardener from pittsburgh, pennsylvania...
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ME and the Boss
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