Welcome to the rambling pit.

I don’t know why you’re here — hell, I don’t even know why I’m here. But if you’re into a little chaos, some uncomfortable truths, NSFW musings, and the half-drunken poetry of a man still clawing at his own shadow, then pull up a chair.

This isn’t your polished self-help blog. This isn’t a Jesus-fish-on-the-bumper website. This is for the ones who believe and still scream at the sky. For the ones who have scars on their bodies and their souls — and sometimes can’t tell the difference.

I’m here to talk about everything. And nothing at all.

Faith. Lust. Rage. Joy. Anxiety. The crap that keeps you up at 3 a.m. The sex you laugh about. The prayers you whisper when you swear no one’s listening. The dreams you thought died twenty years ago but keep dragging their half-dead asses across your brain.

I’m not a guru. I’m not a saint. I’m just a man with a cracked halo, a filthy mouth, a tender heart, and a blog.

If you want polished — go somewhere else.
If you want raw — stick around.

Expect NSFW. Expect random. Expect funny. Expect dark. Expect posts that might make you question why you’re still reading… and then hit subscribe anyway.

Welcome to Saint Dirty Face.

Let’s f*cking go.

Who’s the madman behind the mic?

Papa. Husband. Registered Nurse.
The order always varies — but they all bleed into each other.

I heal people by day, wrestle demons by night, and pray somewhere in between.

Sometimes I’m the hero. Sometimes I’m the cautionary tale.

But here, I’m just me — raw, cracked, reaching, writing, laughing, cursing, surviving.

Stay if you dare. Leave if you must. Bless you either way.