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Monthly Archives: April 2013

‘Nice To Know You’

I usually find it unacceptable to drag others down to see my qualms with what Friendship is supposed to be not just by general definition, but

Once more, I had to delete an individual from my social being.
Yes, I absolutely feel Friendship has become a Social and Technological Science.
(Wait your turn Reader. I promise more).

I actually have no room to care.
This house is occupied with a soul and truth, not to be taken for granted or stripped down of all its layers of kindness.

I will no longer be a fool for friendship.


The Elephant In The Room

Yes, I have been away.
Deep troubles with serious Insomnia, spending a day at the
Illinois Capitol meeting State Legislators and Senators for Adult Education Awareness and to keep the State Funding for Adult Education and the Illinois Community College Board,
Health in crisis, mind within chapters of another depression session, and multiple Family conditions disconnecting.

I do have these words originally written on April 16, 2013.

82°, 35 after.
New gray cigar trousers stained with humidity.
Feet interrupted by blisters from JLo’s fat ass.
Dry lips. Balm erased.
Unshaven ankles.
Elephant on finger and watch on right wrist.
Hair dirty by most, natural to some.
Mandatory Level Gains, Tests in Series, daisi, and the ICCB.
What does it all mean?
For me?
Do Professors work this hard?
Not after Tenure.
I am repeating myself.
State Testing and Requirements continue without my brain.


Where is the Education?
Confirming State Drones to exit without self intelligence should be a Crime.


The lonely College Instructor.
*You might ask yourself, ‘Why a Grim Reaper?’
Most of my students have no more than a 9th Grade Education.
I have to open and re-stitch their Critical Thinking as Adult Education is deemed ineffective by many.

*daisi= Data and Information System Illinois
*ICCB= Illinois Community College Board

Shadow Sleeper

7:54a.m in my marriage bed.
Blue workout pants covered in sweat, not from exercise but restlessness.
My chest, tight with panic.
My Biopsy results are available to me today.
Insomnia is wrecking my life once again.
And, I’m heavy with sadness.

Last week, my mind experienced 8 hours of dormancy.
I couldn’t see to focus.
It was awful.
I lost myself trying to normal.
An individual with no dreams creates a silence, a door within suspended beneath reality.


My kingdom of slumber.
Never alone.
Insomnia is a shadow, a reaper of sorts. Sucking consciousness until the dumbbells holding up my eyes fall no more.
Insomnia’s jealousy rages on, whispering to me, that I will never sleep.
I will become a ghost, a slave to its existence wishing I were dead.
Only then, I could dream alone.

Internal Trains

April 5, 2008
D Train Heading South To
Hangzhou, China.
I lived and educated in
Haining, China from 2007-2008.


December 21, 2011.
Paris Austerlitz Rail Station
Arriving From Barcelona, Spain.
Paris, France
I spent a day in Paris while I was on Holiday in Barcelona, Spain.


I find myself always on Trains.
I remember my first Train Ride.
I was six years old, Chicago, with my (late) Uncle Károly (Charlie).
I had a window seat.
I was nervous. Women were starring at me then whispering to my Uncle.
The women observed my intensity as I was resting my mouth on the black rubber window cover.
Concerned for my health, these women informed my Uncle to ”Keep a closer watch” over and on me.
I just wanted to fly like the sky outside my journey.

*I would discover later in life I no longer enjoyed living by railways due to Holocaust Nightmares, War Machines, and Poetic Suicides.

One of my favorite Poets
Jozsef Attila
”Died on 3 December 1937, aged 32, at Balatonszárszó, where he was staying at the house of his sister and brother-in-law. Crawling through the railway tracks, he was crushed by a starting train.”


November 6, 2008.
Copperas Cove, Texas.
War Machines Heading To Iraq.

Today, I have been a passenger on trains all over this World, some short-exciting travels, some prolonged-disorderly journeys.
(I have experienced eleven hour train rides, One Way, which left me with comatose).

But, it’s not those expeditions that inspire my permanent wandering heart.
It’s the unknown passages I will consume that gives my internal road beauty, longevity even under all my medical hell.
I know something is out there for me.

Krasnoyarsk, Siberia(Soviet Union).
Waiting near an old Railway Station.


December 19, 2011.
La Ribera, Barcelona, Spain.
The Day Before I Traveled To Paris By Railway.


”A summer storm graces all of me Highway warm sing silent poetry
I could bring you the light
And take you home into the night.”
The Smashing Pumpkins

The White Room

Time is spinning.
I float, then fall.
My body has had enough.

I lay here remembering my living hours yesterday.
I was lost. Bedridden.

My new Therapist Chris called me, looking for me as I had abandoned it all.
45 minutes later, my heart was 98 degrees once more.
*I quit Therapy last week. A decision made from two separate demons.
Now, I have returned with a new face and soul.

But, I could not throw together my health for work, so a Sub was called in for my Evening Classes.
My body’s constraints left me in pieces once more.
Diarrhea for twelve hours.
Fever. Nauseous. Broken.
How could I educate in that character?
But, my job presses me to exist within a healthy state, which is impossible and only creates extended nerve sessions.

I’m in a decline, and to endure perfection is almost extinct.


My white room was once painted blue. The rupture of my soul tarnished those beautiful spirits.
If you pealed back the stain, bricks built with purpose would be exposed, leading you to those blue walls of desperation.

After Shocks



This is me.
This is my body, my existence.

My #14 and #15 Surgeries ended this past Friday, but the report is useless compared to the complications.

”Oxygen level problematic before surgeries began.
Stopped breathing during second surgery.
Oxygen level weakened after surgeries.
Patient needs to see Hematologist asap for immediate MRI for her Sarcoidosis.”
Medical Report Friday, April 5, 2013
*My lungs did not stretch until Saturday morning.

I circle my I’s and uncross my T’s so I can slide down to my finite.
I want revenge. Down with Genetics!!
I recognize, it all could be worse.

I return to my job as an
Adjunct ESL College Instructor.
The job, not my recovery.

I’m going below, down.
My migration is persistent.
I cried to my Mother,

*I experienced my first
Transradial Catheterization.
The Anesthesiologist asked me to remove my Contacts (I don’t wear contacts. That’s how ethnic I express to others).
As I was receiving the Transradial IV, all I could remember were my suicide ghosts, then I was out in the Science flatlands, sungazing.

Mornin’ Surgery

Wednesday, I have been bedridden for most of the day and early evening, which induced 5:00a.m, and my body is in pain thank you to the 24 ounce Moviprep I had to ingest.

My car to the Hospital will be here in three hours.
No time for sleep.
So, I called him.

He answered,
”Je dormais. Êtes-vous d’accord?”
I knew he was exhausted knowing that I cannot reply to his mother tongue.

But, he did make me laugh.
My yesterday’s mascara running, and my brain disconnecting the pain from my central nerves.

Now, I just wait for time, and to wake up.


Friday, April 5, 2013
Surgeries #14 & #15.
Clock in: 9:00a.m.
Surgeries Begin: 10:00a.m
Eyes wide open: 12:00p.m
Possible overnight stay.

See you all on the other side.