So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.

I spent a good portion of last night, mooring with the tide, tied to emotions, most of which surely weren’t mine to suffer, though, like a good little buoy I did all I could to stay afloat.

But what causes a man to harbor such feelings of faithless dread.

Sympathy? Empathy? Selfless, selfishness?

Isn’t it funny how even when no one asks us to suffer, we often choose to suffer.

Could it stem from guilt? Plausible, though I think not. Depression? No, because I could still move. Trauma? Not in this case, as it had nothing to personally do with me.

Perhaps than maybe deeper, beyond the physical self, far from age or reason, like roots grown deep within the soil, always there yet invisible to the naked eye.

So then what?

Let’s take the current state of society in which the mind is placed.

We are and always have been reactionary beings, jumping to conclusions without fully taking the time and energy to understand or explore where these irrational compulsions come from.

So the year is 2020 and we are still at one another’s throats.

Not a day goes by that I don’t get a phone call whether or not I am willing to vote. Not a day goes by that I don’t see one side of the argument ready and willing to cut the other’s throat. Not a day goes by where I don’t get the impression that peace is just dependent on war, like an inside joke I just don’t get the humor.

So it’s within this grey area that I swim where both sides of the equation continue to expel these deep seeded emotions from within.

Had it not been for the open minded, tirelessly educated guidance and good nature of a mother, I may have gone another way years ago, though still I stay afloat while the undertow continues its torment.

So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.

I know who I am. And I know my intentions are good. Sometimes our actions speak louder than words but for most of us, words just don’t seem to be heard.

But that’s no reason to destroy what you can’t control.

So for those who cannot express or explain this current state of extremes we face both alone and together, I suggest this: be a beacon of hope.

Because what we know today, with or without our help, will surely change tomorrow.

So even in my darkest hours, I know, hope will never falter, light will find a way, and tides will turn, if not now, then surely another day.

Alone and writing.

Grey hours of day

What’s there left to say

on days like today

Where everything stops

the light just turns grey

The moon and the mind

become one entwined

with fear as bright as the stars

So come with me now

still I have my doubts

But isn’t it fun

sometimes to run

Where no one can see

just listen to me

for once I’ve got nothing to say

It’s all just

too much to take

On days as grey as today

Where no one

gets what they want

they all just walk in the park

Ain’t it better here in the dark?

There’s a place and a time

in the back of my mind

where you and I hide

when you’re so inclined

It’s a place where the grey

hours of day, commit not to say anything.

So come with me there

forget all your fears

Knock-knock orange you glad

I’ve got the blues bad

Just stay with me now

and let’s talk about

anything other than this

These days I don’t think I’ll miss.

Another On Depression. (written some time ago) Or something like that.

It doesn’t feel like a weight
or an isolated incident.

It’s more like a cloudy headed hangover.

The mind knows what it needs
but the body refuses to cooperate.

It’s like sitting with a good book
for hours, no wiser in the end.

Or driving aimlessly
with no set destination.

It doesn’t feel like anything,
really.

Just a relative constant
that comes and stays.

Like an uninvited guest – talkative –
with nothing good to say, whom

upon arrival you wish they would go
but on departure, a part of you wishes they’d stay.

It’s nobodies goal to be addicted,
is it?

It doesn’t feel like anything,
really.

Or something like that.