In the depths of darkness, I find myself
at odds with the elusive shadows.
It is as if the skeletons hidden in my
closet have found their voice, singing haunting
melodies that reverberate through my being.
With each note, my fears are shaken off,
like leaves falling from a tree in the autumn breeze.

But there is something more sinister
lurking in the corners of my existence.
Death, with her cold fingers, creeps closer,
threatening to steal away the precious moments of my life.
Time, once a constant companion, now seems irrelevant,
a mere observer as I navigate the treacherous path
between angels and demons. Heaven and Hell.

The omens that surround me are like oracles,
weaving a tapestry of the future.
Each thread is sewn with the stitches of a final laugh,
a mocking reminder of the inevitable encounter with death.
Exhaustion weighs heavily upon me, a result
of restless nights and endless toil.

I find myself trapped in a state of utter fatigue,
a working zombie in a world that demands
my every waking moment.
Juggling tasks becomes a Herculean feat,
as my mind struggles to function amidst the chaos.
Sanity slips through my fingers like sand,
and yet I cling to the pen, a lifeline in these unearthly hours.

In this battle against the shadows, I am weary but determined.
I will not let the darkness consume me.
I will continue to fight, to push through the exhaustion,
and to find solace in the written word.

For even in the darkest of nights,
there is a glimmer of hope,
a spark that refuses to be extinguished.

We heard, in general conversation,
It costs an arm and a leg, now,
Just to see a game.
To join in the comaraderie and cheer.
To eat a dog, to have a beer.
It's a rip off.
He closed.

I agreed.
Then something else occured to me
About money and time,
(and what grows on trees)
How they interact to corner us;
To keep us from shows,
And stage dramas
That help us forget
Our real life traumas
(the causes of our nightly insomnias).

There's plenty to spend our cash on
(when older. like me, not when you're young).
So I tell my friends to purchase tickets
For games and concerts,
Plays and trips,
Meals and tips,
And gifts for giving
While above ground with the living.
Cause when you’re gone
You'll wonder why
You didn't spend
Before you died.

Last light on the bay,
The sky stained red
By a butchered day,
Dying with the grace
Of a sinking star.
All of its charm
Chastened by the waves
To its grave.

Because their sharp rebuke
Would be swift
And angered outburst be sound
'That thou should not sail
Where the sky meets the sea
If thou dost not wish
To be drowned'


Out there on the unsound
Ground of a different galaxy,
Where aliens have no right
To be,
And salt bleeches bones
Right down to the grain
Leaving lost,
unfortunate stowaways
Scattered like shells on a beach.