Kimber Me

Love once lost to the rivers that ran red. I bled until the blood ran clear, I cried the hurt away until Jack Daniels and Jameson, an Irish man became my two best friends.

What followed these months was a downward spiral of hate, blame and hiding in the shadows.

Kimber, was all I could think about.

No job, no way to pay rent, I considered becoming an escort or scouring the streets as a costumed freak from Hollywood Boulevard.

It was through divine intervention from a complete and loving stranger I learned to pick myself up again and rely on myself and not man made objects.

To this day I am still not a spiritual man, so don't for one second feel it was God that helped me.

For a while my addictions turned to sex, fucking anything I could to feel love again, but that emptiness quickly turned to dullness.

My personal demons became the best of me, until one early morning during a walk of shame I was beaten senseless and robbed.

I lied in a pool of my own blood smiling at the sun that was peaking through a few smoggy clouds and shining directly on to me.

My neighbors stared concerned, but didn't have the courage or care to help me. It was then that I realized I was on my own. That I am my own keeper.

The blood stains on the pavement still remind me of that day as I pass the spot on my way to work.

Since then I have practiced a sort of celibacy, not to prove anything, but because I needed it.

A boring, routinely life has never made me more satisfied.

Next to being beaten, life without Kimber is the best thing that could have happened.

Love is a blind distraction for experiencing life. You can either remove the blindfold and experience utopia, or shack up and attempt to make your own.



"The eyes of the beholder are a forced to be reckoned with. Once allowed in you will either experience extreme pleasure or agonizing pain. Filter these violations"