If the United States made an Ireland . . .
It would be somewhere on the coast.
It would have massive blue rocky cliffs to hold back the ocean.
It would have fields outlined with shallow rock fences.

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
There would be every shade of green as you walk down the street.
There would be moss dangling from the trees reaching out to you.
There would be rain, lots and lots of rain!

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
People would be sailors, fishermen, and drunkards.
People would be cautious and friendly in the same moment.
People would be the biggest jokers you ever met.

It the United States made an Ireland it would be in Oregon. . .

From Pennsylvania to Oregon

Broken, painful, and haunted memories.
Shuffling through items to determine their fate.
Burning my skin, my cheeks, why did I keep those memories for this long?
A relief fills my central nervous system as I draw out the infect capsules laying waste to my body.

Sweet, romantic, and familure memories.
There is only so much space on my horseless carriage.
Juicy to the touch, on my lips and tongue like a pomegranate, leaving me wanting more.
A sorrow fills my eyes as I pour out the dried flowers petals of lost loved ones.

The essentials: blankets, clothes, pots and pans.
The heirlooms: a dish set, jewelry, a dress, a bible.
Funny, I don't even believe in God.

My most prized possessions, my letters, my journals.
To remember a time past, many other lives that I lived.
My bread crumbs to remind me where I came from and how I got here.
Precious food for my soul to help me get up and keep moving forward.

From Pennsylvania to Oregon,
~Cheers

I don't feel like I belong anywhere.
Most days I just want to die.
If I say these words I'm being dramatic.
I look around and I have no one.

What happened?

People shut me out.
It's probably my fault.
They won't tell me why.
I can't see a way to fix it.

What happened?

Shut my mouth.
We all die alone.
I'm  tired.

What happened?

I, the ringmaster, start the show with my top hat on just right and by my side, the lion tamer.

Each day is a show, a facade to let the world know that we are in control and they are safe from the events to come.

Two little monkeys draw your attention to the center ring, one howling and screeching for attention while the other one looks more like a goblin than a monkey. The roll, tumble, and trapeze around the room they demand your attention. The little monkey goblin digs her way in an around the aerial silks as the silly little howler mocks you and laughs at you more forcefully than any clown before.

Then a sideshow freak bombards you with impressive feats that should not be possible for one so small. He the strong man lifts objects easily ten times heavier than him, all the while balancing them on his head. He the sword swallower confusing, disgusting, and still impressive. He the electic act, bitting into live wires and walking away unscathed.

Last to be seen! The final act! The most beautiful and magnificent! The king of the jungle! As the monkeys and the sideshow leave, the powerful and loquacious mane enters. Not much of a talker but when he roars, the sound reverberates through your whole body. Old scars, and soul filled eyes, tell of his conquest and likewise failures. As he and the lion tamer circle each other in the pit, they constantly play the game of Alpha. Albeit, at the end of the say, they are best friends that only want to enjoy a good cuddle.

Ringmaster, lion tamer, monkeys, freak, and the lion, a smattering of strange individuals relying on each other for comfort and safety. Each day a new beginning, a new show, a new chance.

A family.

My family.

A careless child dropping a vessel.

You can't expect the broken to tell you their pain, sometimes you have to ask.

Air bursting through a window, throwing a vase on the ground.

"Do things because you want to", I don't see the point.

High a top the shelf, the sly cat knocks over the heirloom.

Depression is blinding, defining, chilling, and easily over looked.

Falling over and over again.

Broken over and over again.

Eventually we all are like pottery shattered into dust.