Real I Deal

The middle term of the title refers of course to myself. 

Nothing will be dreamed of if nothing believes in parts of my life.
I have the anger of failure.  I failed to believe in my dreams.

Nothing is the same without family.

Nothing is the same without love.

No one will be family if I am a strung out shit.

No one will be good to me if I am fried with a loop.

A loop is when you have not the attributes necessary to live life without repetition -- to grow.

I am not good for people to love.

I wish God were a possibility.

As my orgasmic nuts dream of people who are loved, I ask for a part of being.

No one is alive for cruelty.

I have been drunk as a stumbling ash.

I wish I had the energy to draw this all together in some coherent skein of thought.

Instead I wish only to reiterate that money and life are worlds of pain.

As an artist I am a cop.

Now maybe I can gather energies sufficient to accomplish a "goal":  peace and change.

Now it's okay.  Now it's nothing.

Woe to the patient; woe to the hustle.

Now loose bread is worth passion.