The End


In the end

Souls laid bare

When nothing is left

But the final breath

All we realy want

Is to be loved

To know

We are not singular

That in the end

Someone will care

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Lost It


I realy want to write something amazing. A read that will curl your toes, make you cry, laugh then walk away saying “thank you”. However. I have lost it. My voice. Can not find it. My pen slings gobbledygook. 

Those of you who know me prepare another purge. The desire to clean slate my site and plant a new me feels good right now. Yet currently I am… Quoting Jesus ” neither hot nor cold but lukewarm.” I need to be spewed out. I am swimming in comfortable nothingness. I dont even think leather thigh high boots and a riding crop could prod me from my recliner.

Let me go find an adventure somewhere and see who I can become. Here is to you my few faithful. Get ready for something spectacular. Searching my mask now for a new and improved version.

I Do Not

  Let us begin from the beginning. If you have been in therapy this will feel like a cozy blanket. Or, like take a straight razor to scars you forgot you had, intentionally forgot. Either way, buckle in. Here I go. Welcome to my ride.

  Almost fifty years algo I was born, in October. No big deal. Except, it was fifty years ago, and I was not due until December. The medical wisdom in those days was a premature baby should be isolated. Not handled. Only kept alive until their due date. If there were no complications they could be sent home then. There were complications. So I reminded in isolation. Eventually I was released but with orders not to hold me for my first year, for my own good physically. To keep my alive. Both of my parents were in the medical profession. Therefore, orders were followed. 

  I lived. I can remember back to some point during my first year. This has been confirmed through my mother by means of describing my nursery. We moved when I was two and there are no photos for me to view. My first memory is of me being alone in me crib staring in the hallway from a dark room. I was not crying. However I remember no emotion. It seems I did not cry when left alone as a baby. I knew nothing else.

  I have no memory of bonding with my mother. No memory of doing things with her as a toddler. Only sitters. My memories are mainly of wondering alone in the neighborhood. Yes, as a toddler. One older couple especially. The Bettles. They would talk to me and give me root beer.

  I will stop here for now only to say. I do not. I do not. I do not know how to bond or how to let go. However I do know now why I will never be able to let my first love go. I the female that told me she loved me. I was a lost duck…..and she was the love I never knew.

If You Have Ears


She lay between my legs

I feel her hot breath

As she

Snores like a man

You were not expecting that. So sorry. Yet thus is the tale of my current romance. Me laying in my king size bed with her there sleeping. Who am I to complain if she prefers to sleep between my legs. It is rather comforting. Furthermore she begins each night with several minutes of kisses. 

How wonderful she is. How devoted. Her primary concern in life, me. I am a blessed man. Who could as for more. 

If only we all had PTSD and a similar companion.