When I was young   . .
   I ran with the mustangs
When I was young
   I climbed snow peaked mountains
When I was young . . .
   I swam across the rivers
When I was young . . .

When I was thirty  . . .
   I was first time married
When I was forty . . .
   I was a new father . . .
When I was fifty . . .
   I turned over a century

When I look back . . .
   I think of the rejection
When I think back . . .
   I see the sad in reflection
When I resign myself
   I see the ignorance and deception
When I look back . . .

When my time comes . . .
    I will walk in reception
When my time comes . .  
    It will be a new conception
When my time comes . . .
    There will be no fear of suggestion

But when will no longer matter then

Let them bury your big eyes
In the secret earth securely,
Your thin fingers, and your fair,
Soft, indefinite-colored hair,—
All of these in some way, surely,
From the secret earth shall rise;
Not for these I sit and stare,
Broken and bereft completely;
Your young flesh that sat so neatly
On your little bones will sweetly
Blossom in the air.

But your voice,—never the rushing
Of a river underground,
Not the rising of the wind
In the trees before the rain,
Not the woodcock's watery call,
Not the note the white-throat utters,
Not the feet of children pushing
Yellow leaves along the gutters
In the blue and bitter fall,
Shall content my musing mind
For the beauty of that sound
That in no new way at all
Ever will be heard again.

Sweetly through the sappy stalk
Of the vigorous weed,
Holding all it held before,
Cherished by the faithful sun,
On and on eternally
Shall your altered fluid run,
Bud and bloom and go to seed;
But your singing days are done;
But the music of your talk
Never shall the chemistry
Of the secret earth restore.
All your lovely words are spoken.
Once the ivory box is broken,
Beats the golden bird no more.

~Edna St. Vincent Millay 1892—1950~

My father never drank when I was young. Never a bottle in the house. I would be proud to boast "My family doesn't drink"
because I knew my grandfather was an alcoholic
and it tore the family apart
and I know the families in town where the father is an alcoholic
and slowly it all falls apart

but when I was in highschool my dad started keeping beer in the house
which turned to vodka
only once in a while
only to relax
only on the weekends
we all laugh
"It's like you take a shot of the chaser and down it with the vodka!"
When he started drinking at two in the afternoon on vacation
we all laughed
no big deal
It's just to relax
but what i'm afraid of
is that this is how it happened with his own father
that it was all fun
until it wasn't
and it was no big deal
until it was
and they lived in separate houses
and he drank himself to death in a little house alone
When is the line where it all falls?
How do you fix something that is just a joke?

My depression at times gives
me the impression that it cares.
It introduces sliver linings to
me that feel sharper than razors.
The flock of clouds protect me.
It sticks closer than my family.
It's not afraid of me like them.
It is my stormy weather friend
who hates the suns existence.
It makes my dreams sleep in.
It plays with me by sending
carnivals of pain through
faucets into my hands.
It lets me see that all the
world is shy compared to it.
It compliments me when I'm
no longer brave with a sigh.
It tells me what I want to hear
that the end is almost so near.
Yet the seconds are so infinite.
So I can have it both ways too.
Sometimes I am almost convinced
that depression has a soul until
I awake to find my head in
between the wolves teeth.
Some how God becomes much
more powerful then it all.


Caressing, laughing  
Cause you felt the stars
in her galaxy

Loving, smiling
Cause you felt your heart
twinkle with happiness

Lonely melodies
Cause you felt empty
without his touch

Sharing, posting
Cause you felt inclined
to open up

Crying, hating
Cause you felt your heart
broken into pieces

Doping, puffing
Cause you felt the urge
to numb your pain

Crawling, running
Cause you felt the need
to move  forward

Hoping, praying
Cause you felt God
Pulling you closer

This one is dedicated to the three most awesome women that inspire me with love, hope and kindness despite the craters life has to offer.

Patty M
Pamela Rae
Soul survivor
  6d Twilight Zone

I guess there's a million ways
to make it alright

a million reasons
to win this fight

but I cant wake up
and I cant begin

I cant even get your words
to sink in

somehow its easier
to place you in categories

ignore your names
your eyes, your storys

you're too angry
and show no respect

there's even something wrong
with beeing too perfect

I do this
so that we cant part

because it simply cant end
if I wont give it a start

Next page