Lyrics to the song.
Some people will take advantage of you no matter what you say, no matter what you do. They respond with subtle hatred and deceptive reactions when called out for their actions. Whether I do right or wrong, the outcome is the same: repetitive lyrics to the song.
Trust no one.
Happy Saturday. On this day, trust no one.
It’s WrestleMania weekend, so I will watch two nights of wrestling and see the end of some outstanding storylines.
I wrote a poem called “Foolish” seven years ago on April Fool’s day.
Enjoy.
Have a great weekend.
I didn’t get much sleep.
It’s cold this morning.
Our Home Owner Association must have elected new members; the crackdown has begun.
Yesterday, I watched “Star Trek: Picard” season three, episode seven, “Dominion.” The turning point took the fugitive crew of the USS Titan from worse to worst. We learn Vadic’s backstory; Jack becomes a telepathic Jason Bourne, and Data is at odds with Lore. The crew loses their ship and we end the episode on another cliffhanger.
I am enjoying this series season.
I didn’t get much sleep but thank goodness it’s Friday.
Have a good weekend.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt the sun. Daily precipitation grows more intense. Finding my sense of direction, moving away from the storm yet, tethered to the chaotic attraction.
Thunder without the touch of lightning.
All I have is the rain.
I exist in a place of confusion; perspiration has the scent of chaos.
My father visits my dreams, but he doesn’t recognize me.
The ebb and flow of warnings erode the existence of time.
Seeds of resurrection.
Childish games they continue playing. Those lingering lies were their truth as fairy tales.
I stepped away. For a moment, my thoughts I quietly transcribed—a world of burning embers. I returned, and everything I knew turned to ashes.
Memories no longer forgotten.
I watched the seasons change and found a new opportunity.
A sinister familiarity lingered.
Something is unchanged.
The rippling effect in the pit of my spirit tells me this is more than deja vu.
Yes, I have been here before, many times over.
I must come to terms with something, and I cannot locate it.
Until then, my journey is but a loop, recast and replayed for my “amusement.”
An inexplicable void with improper goodbyes; removed with a sudden yank from my soul. Absence stained my heart and claimed my joy. Stories unreasoned and meanings despised, I will remember the tales and one day be reconciled.
November 27, 2021.
Exactly fifty six years ago to the day, my parents forged a union. Tied by a secret circumstance. Our lives shaken by revelations in the wake of my father’s death. Everything we knew was covered in blood. Every excuse and obsession was in Jesus’ name.
Our house divided, it was never meant to stand.
My path should have been different. Sentiment made my choice; the opportunity shared an equal quality—a questionable judgment based on hope. Now, I am sleeping in the rain. This mistake carries silence—no words of despair.
The warmth of summer is ending;
the length of daylight decreases.
Darkness carries heavy memories;
the weight of despair increases.
Another storm is coming. Feeling the barometric pressure. Waiting for the strong winds, to begin parting our ways.
The soft taps of summer rain. A moist reflection in an empty room. Those calendar markings of commemoration, the essence of the ones taken. Counting down to the end of a season.
Concessions of the heart exposed.
Every effort results in failure.
Love is a waste of time.
I am not the same person.
My ways are not transparent.
I will not submit to your drama.
This moment is our denouement.
Whatever we had ended
when you walked out the door.
I came across a voicemail message from my father in 2017. It was a poignant memory of a time before he passed this year. Alone, suffering from grief and cancer. The twins took his money and gave it to their mother, the tumors that weakened our family. Those truths of his final days send me toward regret. I should have called him. An absence so profound because he is never coming back.
I thought things would get better as I got older. So much experience to make the journey easier. Then I realized, I should have changed my ways.
The world is a bully that torments me for decades. My experience doesn’t make up for my mental state that is withering away.
Familiarity is now in the distance. I don’t recognize this place. Anxiety occupies the space. There is no refuge for the one who is damaged, no rest for the one who is in despair.
I thought things would get better instead, I’m just getting older.
Haunted by the dead and buried; acceptance denied due to the absence of closure. Grasping at the tattered hem of a garment; faith-seeking answers. Time dictates the pace of suffering; peace is a forced state of mind.
It rains all the time. Every day, a silent reflection in the morning, startling thunder in the night. Six months in a shit show. The torrential downpour magnifies the anxiety.
It rains in the most obscure places; the unexpected. Taps playing on my skin. The urge to run becoming prevalent. Be still, let nature take its course.
Write Now and Later 
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