Because I need to keep believing

I saw a building I hadn’t seen before, though I had walked by it at least a few times a month. I stood on the corner for three lights, while we caught up on lost time.
I heard five people’s voices rise in pitch as they walked by me, saying “puppy!” I looked down at Ruby and thanked her.
I bought a man some food so he could eat, using money a friend loaned me so I could.
And I looked into the eyes of everyone I could, hoping to feel a new friend, or love. Hoping my soul might see her and kind of say “Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
And it would feel like two people finally meeting each other
after a lifetime of not meeting each other.



Lifetimes ago, I called to you, called, and finally

you looked, noticed how my wings glistened with light

and reached to take hold of my hand.

You were blind to how these wings were scarred, wounded, broken,

or you just didn’t care. You saw something that you thought you could fix.

You reached down, down far – and almost fell

almost fell – for me. Some things I just won’t let happen. See where the scars come from, see why I use what I do for paste now, and don’t judge.

Out of bourbon and fire, fire and ashes, ashes and dust, dust like thousands of words and the tears of joy and sorrow that created them, out of these things I make my paste. I make my paste out of the same wind that carries them away. I make my paste out of the strength of the blood of my heart, of mine, not yours. You want me to be my best, my best for you. I want to be my best for me and only that because that is what stays. I know me better, I know what I want I know who I am and who I will be and that is not your creation. Even in your love, it can only be made by mine of myself. Only I can make me, again, and again, and again – and I do. You haven’t known me long enough to realize this. Let me be and love me and let me always become. Try to mold me and I crumble in your hands. Love me and let me be if you’re strong enough.

If you’re strong enough, I will be stronger for both of us.

Another Great Step Forward for #MyBook!


I just secured the amazing Chuck Revell’s photography as some of the awesome multi-tier rewards for the Early-Bird & official Kickstarter campaigns for #MyBook!
Out of the kindness of his heart & to support this project, he will be donating some beautiful fine-art images, and *EVEN* for a few *very* fortunate contributors, a personal photo-shoot!

Check out what his extraordinary eye catches through the lens at RevellRay Photography:

Of course there will be many more fantastic rewards for those who support the creation and publishing of my book, but I really wanted to be able to offer some extra rewards that are less common in a publishing campaign, and supporters should have as much beauty to choose from as they deserve.

The “official” Kickstarter campaign is involving tons of work and lots of waiting for others (mostly for the video).
Needless to say, I (and others who have been on my ass to write the book since I first spoke of it) am far too excited about getting the thrilling but arduous process of #MyStory in gear to wait for everyone else,  so I’m creating something very special.

In order to get this book rolling ASAP, there will be an Early Bird Campaign launched very soon (this Mon. or Tues.)
It will be independent of the Kickstarter, but hold true to and even above the same promise and pledge to its supporters.

The really cool thing about it is that it will offer *very* special, limited edition, and one-of-a-kind rewards that will NOT be available on the official Kickstarter campaign, as a special show of appreciation from me to you! One they’re gone however – they’re gone, never to be seen or offered again.

If you don’t want to miss the opportunity to find out what *those* kick-ass rewards will be, then follow me here, On Facebook  or on Twitter at @kSea_flux –

And please – feel free to share this *everywhere*. I’ve got a HUGE & beautiful project in front of me, and it will need as much support as possible.


Love love love,
~ kSea

neat enough

It’s neat enough
clean enough, this precision at which I can remove myself
remove another
and make me not want
what I cannot have.

It is what I have been taught to do from my first breaths in this life.

The tragedy lies
where there might still be a possibility
where there might still be hope
but, as trained
my heart has already gone dark
and there is no more light to show you
the beauty it holds
and in my lie
I long for you

in silence and
for what could have been


it cannot be said that
I did not try
with all of my patience, understanding
and all of my heart

but as much as I could only see the present
and dream the possibilities in our future

you could not trust or
learn to see that
I was not your past…

so now that is all that I am.

one single word


A word more powerful than nearly any other. A word more overused and tainted, heartfelt, believed… and unknown.

A feeling that reaches beyond the body, beyond the soul, beyond anything tangible. That can only come close to being described in poetry, yet even the greatest of poets could not truly define it regardless of the heights they attempted to make it fly in its glory nor the unfathomable depths of the anguish it has caused so that another could grasp the way it held their heart.

When I look in her eyes I feel what I think it is – is this all it needs to be honestly said? Is it that simple? No. The word itself is little but a reassurance, something that we think we need to hear to minimize our insecurities or those of another. It has been soiled, misused, and the honesty and weight it once carried been chipped away by all the sharp tongues that have spoken it, made inaudible by all the desperate ears that have pried it out of voices without hearts.

I feel that it should be said, but only at times when it cannot be held back. When it is not thought about nor spoken only to echo, but when it bursts from the heart in a way that cannot be contained.
It should be shown, displayed, made solid through the way life is lived, how suddenly each thought is never again solely about you. Inhaled and exhaled in every breath, each act created with the intention to bring happiness in the other, just to see the sparkle in their smile.

I don’t like the word “love”. Not the word. Not as used when I say it to her.

It is far too insignificant. Speaking it cannot come near comparison to what I want to do for her.

When I tell her of my love, it will not be empty. It will be saturated, dripping, with all the beauty and honesty and power of the poetry that I or anyone else has – or ever will feel – inside.


Kats Tattoo

1.23.99 twisted


Of course.

It comes with me everywhere now,
how could it not
in the life I have chosen
to live?

In the pain that was handed to me
on a not-so-silver platter when
I began this fresh life
in an indescribable anguish
and lonely had such a different meaning
for me…

After trying so hard to be like them
I found that I wasn’t at all
so I always searched
for the sorrow
for the passion
for the madness

and the ways to make
all of these go away.

I frequently ended up
giving the drugs power over me.
It helped when nothing was inside.
I could justify the thoughts I had
the absence of feeling
with the drugs

So they became all that I could trust…

the fuck has always been mine.

The Fuck is my power
The Fuck is my control
and up until recently

the only control I felt.

I let so few of them see the sickness
and then, only a bit, as even I still don’t know
it’s full depths.

The ones who saw
always came back.
Of course they did.

They were selected for what I could see in them.
Certain ones. Certain women
Something in the eyes, their movements,
a wicked smile, a wanting, a yearning,
a hidden emptiness behind the lust in their smile
the taste of their sweat…

and they always came back,
wanting more of me – more of my flesh,
more of my cock, more
of what maybe they could see in my eyes
before I even dared to realize that it
was there – before I had an idea of
how sick it might be…

but that was years ago,
and as I let it come
as I looked for it in others

it grew.

It Grows.

Still never able to be fully realized
never able to give
never willing to give

the rightness hasn’t been there in the way
it needs to be,
save for so very few times, and those times
only made me want more.

Always more

always someone who can be for me
so much more than a body
as that’s never been enough to satisfy
this hunger inside of me.

Anyone can offer a body
Flesh is only flesh
but if that is all they are willing to offer,
that’s what I will take,
that’s what I will use,
and that’s what I will control
because I have that need and

I know that I can.


And perhaps someday
there will be another
who I might finally unbuild these meticulously constructed wall for
and trust deeply enough

to show the pieces of me

that even I am afraid to see.

To go so far past the flesh
the sweat
and the sweet juice of the fuck

to go so far past the body
because that is far to easy and
this hunger won’t be satisfied
until I lay down with a woman and
in love
in trust
in passion

she is willing to abandon
her soul to me.

I will take it
and in my sickness
I will tear it apart

in my sickness
I will consume it, piece by piece
until it is my own, and we are both broken
and lost.

Then, slowly, I will bring it back
carefully mend it
putting it all back together, piece by piece
like shards of a strange dark puzzle
making us whole again –

in my love making her soul
so much stronger and returning it to her with
almost every piece

pure and shining like the stars
her soul glowing and white and strong and nothing
but peace inside …

keeping the bruised parts
the parts where the pain came from
the parts that twisted her
made her afraid
and made her hurt

away from her, inside of me
keeping my own shadows company…

so that maybe,
just maybe
she doesn’t have to feel them

for now.

to the wind

Of course it changed me. I expected it to. Only now though am I realizing how much… and I found that I was completely wrong in how I changed.

Well, what do ya know. It’s pretty amazing what you hear when you stop and actually listen to and question your mind.

In the time I spent in the hospice then hospital, I thought that I had grown stronger, more passionate for life, more driven to not only survive, but live Throw caution to the wind, live everyday to its fullest without a care or worry and a renewed lust to reach further and live harder than ever before. Burn, Shine, be brilliant and beautiful. Inspire.

Before I realized that I had lost control I never questioned my thoughts. After all, even though my soul was trying its best to break free, my mind, my thoughts always countered with a logical explanation as to why I should back off, settle down, be quiet.

Be safe in this little world where nothing can reach you, nothing can harm you. Buckle up. Hold on tight. Keep your hands inside the car at all times.

I always considered that because I was making what I thought were rational thoughts, that I could believe in them. That they were helping me.
I had forgotten how to question, forgotten how to feel for too long before my brain took over and said “Whooooa. Wait. What if you fail? You’re supposed to be inspirational, lived when so very few expected you to, supposed to give back. You made it this far, thanks to me, so hey, just chill, forget that fire in your heart and soul. Remember, it’s what got you here in the first place, that lust, that passion – but I saved you. Remember that.”

True, it was my mind that made me search beyond Western medicine, and found what could keep me alive – but through that, I lost control of it, believed in it far too much. This is the act of the insane.

The mind is an amazing thing, far above what we can even comprehend. All the supercomputers in the world couldn’t make a robot walk, chew gum, be markedly aware of what a dog is doing and admire the architecture of the buildings it walks by, while still watching out for shit on the sidewalk at the same time. And still, beyond all of that, making each small thing in our body do exactly as it should…

But I believe that we were given a heart, a soul, for a reason far beyond just pumping blood or playing blues. Our mind tends to get a bit arrogant in its power and authority. We forget to question it.

In the nearly two years I spent fighting to live, I needed to give all the power to my mind. Not only to stay alive and trust it would make rational decisions, but to keep as much as I could away from my heart. In one year I watched 13 people die in a building with 14 rooms. They were mostly friends. At the hospital more, but no number. Just empty beds in a sea of rooms. To feel them all would be to give up. My heart had to be separate from my thoughts.

Only now I realize my mistake. Only now I break through it – and it is actually quite simple. Just ask youself – “Is what I am accepting without questioning the truth, or only an illusion?” Really. feel. Fight the arrogant little demon that is in your head.

About a year and a half ago I walked out of the hospital. Maybe two. In that time, I have started and partially shut down many artistic endeavors, not followed through with CultureFlux, been barely surviving on less than $300 a month in the most expensive city, found, spent nine months with, and broke up with a beautiful woman – all because my mind told me I wasn’t worth it.
Oh, my mind certainly knows my buttons!

I am. I am worth it, and everything, and more. I had lived a life of throwing caution to the wind, and my mind did exactly what it is programmed to – keep me alive. Keep me safe.
But it needs to be questioned, it needs to be challenged. Safe is not always best, as if it were, we would never leave our homes, never try anything new, never desire to be more, never risk making mistakes or reaching for our dreams.

Never shine, never burn with passion, never fall in love.

The mind is only a tool. It is nothing if you don’t learn how to use it. It’s really quite simple to achieve – all you need to do is consciously question it, instead of believing that it always knows best. Pause. Breathe. Let Go.
In order to truly be alive, the heart and mind must work together. Make as many mistakes as possible. Jump off a cliff, but into the water. Learn how to breathe fire. Learn how to walk on stilts, and fall. Realize that everything hurts far less than you worry it will. For that matter, don’t EVER worry, but get shit done when it is time. Focus on the NOW.

Fall in love, even if you think it can’t be returned.

I have never questioned my heart…
And It Is Back, in harmony with my mind.

“Some people never go insane. What truly horrible live they must live.” ~ Charles Bukowski

This is something I wrote a bit ago in one of my journals. When it starts speaking TO me, the handwriting changed dramatically. In parts it was scratched through the thick paper in passion.


For so long

I’ve been waiting for someone

like you

for so long
then you came a Thanksgiving night
And I looked into your eyes

for the first time as you stood beside me

there was no bottom

and I was lost.

It was you and I knew it

Talking for hours, looking so deep into your eyes
wanting so much
to know you

to believe in you

to believe that this might be.

Never leaving my mind,

filling my heart, slowly helping me to realize

who I am again

I offered you pieces
of my past
I offered you all
of my present

always looking to the
unknown future, wishing
that the ties that bound you
weren’t there, wishing

that mine
weren’t either.

We dreamed together

we laughed

Tears fell (more mine than yours as I became again)

we wrapped each other up
in each other
So nice inside of you
so warm
so real

so afraid that the tests would come

And now they do.

Now they aren’t fucking around.
















No. We know it isn’t that. We know

you aren’t afraid of you. We know

that you’re better than that.

We know you are stronger.

We know that you were just so fucking tired of the gifts we gave you

so that you could become

who you are today.

we sent your mother away

we gave you no blood of your own

we gave you a family

who gave you everything as a child

except a friend who you could talk to

when things just weren’t right

and you had so many questions.

We gave you confusion

we gave you years of emptiness

we gave you an excruciating feeling

of loss

And we didn’t ever tell you why or where

it came from

we gave you so many lovers

so that you could try to leave them

with the same feeling

Not knowing that it was always

going to end up with you abandoning them

the way you were as a baby

a helpless fucking baby who

after four short months

the first four months you ever experienced

asking where was that part of you that was so warm where was that part of you that was peace where was the heartbeat and the smell and the voice that always could soothe and where was that part of you that your fucking life started inside of???

And yes.

We gave you that emptiness knowing
We gave you your pain knowing
We gave you your confusion knowing
We gave you your heart knowing
We gave you your head knowing
We gave you your lovers
We gave you your drugs
We let you watch your friends
slowly die in front of you.

Do you remember that smell?

Of course you do. We made sure of it.

We gave it to you.

But we also gave you your joy
We also gave you your laughter
We gave you your heart, and
made sure it could feel love
We gave you your eyes, and
made sure they could shine

But we saw that you forgot, sometimes,
that you could love.

We saw that you forgot, sometimes,
that you could shine.

So we gave you a mind, a heart…
and we gave you a pen
So that you could remember.

We gave you all of the tools
it would take to become
who you are today.

We gave you everything you needed to be here,

So… What are you going to do?

Of course you can run. It’s easy.
We’ve given you that, too.
We’ve given you so many reasons to.

But if you stay

If you try

if you stay

(you always did as a child, remember?)



And you don’t try to crawl
inside again

If you realize that
you have found a way
to keep yourself.

If you keep, this time
what we gave you
what you asked for
then won’t it all finally

make at least some sense?

Think about how much
would have been in vain
Think about throwing away
what could have been
Think about the time
that you didn’t have to let it become

Like you have

Like she has

There is so much more ahead
and it won’t always be easy
and it won’t always be fun
and it won’t always make sense
but the time you will share
as long
as you don’t run from the lessons
as long as you don’t run from the pain
as long as there are the words
to fight the occasional confusion

as you give it time –

it finally may make the pain
just a little less.

We will always offer you, through this life
gifts to help you grow.

There will be pain involved,
and sometimes
more than you think that you can bear
but if you live through them
if you meet them face to face
see them for what they are, welcome them
and learn from them,

then you will also find
the strength you have inside

then you will also find
how deeply you can love

and then you will also find
your Self

and know the pleasure in that

because the pleasure
and the love,
and your heart that continues to beat

are our true gift

to you.

Priority Mail/The Past is Still Inside

The letter to my birth Mother is finally written, sending it today. I’m including some photos, maybe something I wrote a while back… and I’m terrified, but regardless of the commitment I made to myself, so long ago, to never give ANYONE a second chance to leave me… I need to get this done. Put it either behind or in front of my life so I can get on with the rest of it…

This is what I’m thinking of including, which made an entire room of birth-mothers crumble in a group I was in to try to find answers while in San Diego, but… not sure if it is too much right now.

The Way It Was
When I was a child
it was just
the way it was
I lost myself in the secrets
that were lost in metaught that I should learn to accept
that where I came from didn’t matter – but
(who am I ?)
I was chosen
I was loved and
(this boy who never began)
I just was.

I remember the birthdays –
presents, friends, all a child could want
and everything was so wonderful, so perfect
the doors inside of me locked up so tight
the walls built so meticulously
(mommy, tell me about when I was born)
I had taught myself so well.
I was chosen, and
(sorry son, I wasn’t there)
I was “special”.

School days,
always in on the outside
I could become almost anyone
pretend to fit in anywhere
and with nowhere to look
to find who or why I was
I became the incomplete chameleon
I pretended that I was them.

As the time went on
it grew darker each year
as the loss I had locked away so long ago
began to seethe
and the questions I had taught myself
never to ask
(who am I?)
remained unanswered.

As the pain grew,
I found my own ways
to numb it, to suppress it,
my best friends were the drugs and the escape they offered,
but always, a sense of loss would seep out
from unknown origins.

I’ve spent my life wandering
from city to city, coast to coast
looking for something, though never knowing what.
Always leaving the people that I loved behind
With promises of staying in touch.
(before they could leave me)

I could control
I needed to control

this time.

But the promises I had made
always turned out to be as empty as I was
and in the end
I disconnected so easily
detach and go on
(it was the first lesson learned)
and I always
went away.

Thirty three now
and just a few years ago
the doors that I had locked so securely
so perfectly as an infant
burst open.

Through night after night spent crying alone
and the days at work trying not to
I was finally able to welcome the pain I had denied for so long
to become a part of me.
I let myself remember
that there was something I had lost.

Now I knew where the anger that had been eating at me came from
and the emptiness that I feel
when friends talked about from which part of their family
they got their eyes, their hair, their temper
and all I can do is listen silently,
anger seething…

I began my search just a few years ago
for that piece of me that might come with answers
might fill the void inside of my heart
might help everything about me make a little more sense
but as soon as the search began
I found that, for some reason, someone decided
I am not allowed to know the things about me
that everyone else takes for granted
and I have no birthright
no right at all to my history, to my ancestors
to my heart
to know why I am
or how I became this way.

With each step I am turned away from trying
to give this pain answers
to give this pain a reason
to try and make at least some of this everlasting ache go away,
or perhaps even fill something inside
that has been empty for so long.

Around every corner
there is more red tape
or another dead end
as I try to find that piece of my soul
that has been denied me

I grow weary
And I want so much to be able to give up
shut those doors again
and go on with this façade
slowly destroying myself
as I drown in my own lies and denial.
(it was so much easier
When I didn’t have to care)
But I’ve torn down the walls inside of me
now that I know what I need
and no matter how many people may stand in my way
try to dissuade me
(“She’s probably already dead” my adopted mom once said)
I will find my mother.

Yesterday, I read about a woman
who, after years of searching, was finally able to find her father,
just a couple of days ago.

She found him seven weeks after he was buried.

Seven weeks.

Through all of this frustration
through all of this pain
through this profound feeling
of irrevocable loss
I try to keep on going
to find a reason,
a foundation to this life
and maybe, if I’m so blessed,
I’ll get my mother as well.

Though each small victory in this search
is met with a thousand more defeats and dead ends,
the search goes on, and the years pass by
allowing less and less time
for any chance there may be to make things right.

If I ever do find the woman
who gave me these green eyes
this crooked smile
a heart full of sadness
and my life…
I don’t want the flowers I bring to her the first time we meet
offered in thanks for what she has given me
for the life I have been blessed with
for the sacrifice she made

to gently be laid upon her grave.

When I was a child
it was just
The way it was.

It can’t be that way anymore.

-Casey Porter 4/6/01


and I wonder  if there’s anyone

strong enough

strange enough

daring or

deranged enough

light enough

dark enough

doesn’t give a fuck enough

about the social stigma shit enough

to fall enough

or rise enough

in love enough to be



No Less Lonely

Shortly after noon, a Thursday that I have decided to re-edit my books, perhaps begin with a more grandiose beginning than the first entries, perhaps entering in the story later – because, well – the first entries are somewhat boring, don’t catch ya – and although it leads so perfectly into the entire story, it’s all about being able to sell it to the publisher.


I think about the book “Go Ask Alice” – but her journal was found and published after she was dead, and I don’t intend to die. I write because I want the enemy that I can’t harm anymore to read my life, I write because I want to be known. I write because it is the best addiction that I have, and I’ve given up most of the others.


It’s strange reading, again, my past. I’m a product of it, but not one to dwell. Everything is now, and I’ve been able to make things right as time goes on – all, but one, recently. One without words, one with the disgusting politeness that comes from nothing else to say when I see her.

She took my heart, made me believe in something special – then went away, in silence…

You knew so much better than to do that, miss sensitive. I told you the thing that hurts me the most, destroys me. The silence, the unknowing. Your own walls are no excuse – unless you meant to truly do me harm. Whether you did or didn’t –


Fuck you. I still love you – and I need to find a way to let go, to write again…


Much better to let you go, at least to try. I say Goodbye in hopes that we might meet again. Small hope, but a deep one.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Beans teeth hang above my head on my narrow bed as I write this, I try to forget the words I have recently sent to someone who could have been, and as I think about what I have written, know it was necessary. I think. I don’t know. Something needed to happen, is all I know. I push back my hair and it falls in my face again and loneliness has a new meaning, again. With all of my grand plans for the day, I haven’t left this fucking box except to send





Fine and fuck it all.


A former lover and new friends have visited, bringing the beautiful candelabra of my grandmothers which is now sitting by her picture until it finds the perfect place, bringing rum and easy conversation.


Strange how I am no less lonely when friends are near, I just hide it better and you’ll never fucking see it.

 Is this the life I have chosen?

Perhaps, a fools mistake – because gods, I want you near. Someone, the perfect ones – all three of them, have gone away but I still have the friends who just wont let me fucking die.


Nor will I, and I

I would do anything to keep you here

I would do anything for you

I will do everything for my dreams, and

you are a part of them, and as strong as I am,

I don’t want to do this alone

and I can’t explain why

but as strong as I am I need you

I need you

because Katrina showed me, ages ago

who I am

and perhaps she thought of me as she exchanged vows

(but I hope not)

and that is the person who no one has seen

the person who I wish to find someone

strong enough to know

strong enough to bring into their life, as

I only build, I only dream, and

all of my life I have been hated for this

but it is what I chase and it is what I am

I am nothing short of my dreams

much more than them, and

they keep on growing


And in these writings I don’t have any secrets anymore, and in these writings I don’t want to because I’ve lived a life wrapped up in secrets pain but there is always more to say and there is always a way


Always a way to do something better.


But still I search for the man I am supposed to be

and I live  for one day, in any book

someone using the she pronoun instead of he

and someone that is able to accept me

for who I am

for who I have become

for all that I am,

and are not afraid to accept my becoming.


I do what I need to do

I say what I need to say

and this little boy has grown up

this little boy is bitter, hungry

and this little boy is now a man

that burns in his search for someone

because although I am a warrior

because apparently I am supposed to be alone

I don’t want to be. Simple.


I want to wrap myself around the perfect woman,

I need a friend in this fight

I need someone to look for, to look into, to believe in,

when I need strength when I cant find it inside of me.

I need the perfect princess to wrap her arms around me

for I am nothing less than magick, 

I am nothing less than a King.


This life has been hard fought for in its becoming

immeasurable pain that any fool would crumble under

just like I did, and that fool became stronger as a result of it

and then I knew so much more, and I became again me

and my life has been nothing but blessed

cursed and won, and this is who I am now, with a fucking vengeance, realizing the lonelineness of my voice on these pages, in these words and there is no quiet inside and FUCK you.

I love you.

A king has found a ridiculous throne but still I write and still it is love and still it is you and I am only me because of you, all of you.

You and all that can’t be given back.


I just want to be me, and have someone understand me in this dirty mirror. See me, reflect me, know a similar pain and we can shine so brilliantly together.


I will never let you know the pain, you never will – the one who knew understood married off, the other two have nothing for me but more pain, Goodbye to both and I am stronger than that but fuck, I miss someone, I loathe this solitude and I hate you and I am better than that and I am – well, I’m a wee bit drunk, and then some. It’s been a rough night.


I don’t need to talk but still I pull my hair out of my mouth as this goodbye is said and I LOVE YOU, surely I do. I can only hate the ones that I have love so sincerely, loved with such abandon.

There is nothing left

nothing left

to say

I already  miss you, and fuck you – you reminded me of Katrina, Striggy, and fuck you, the third. Unnamed, you know who you are. I still have grace.


I stumble. I need to sleep.


and my ass hurts, is weary of sitting on nothing soft.



2: 10 am this ends