It was something that was meant to be
You being you, and I being me
Supposed to be temporary
But lingering
Relentlessly

I have no purpose any more.
I’m a painter who’s gone blind
And a singer who’s gone deaf.
There is no call for what I sell.

I still daub colors on a board
To smell the Linseed Oil again
I hear the music in my head
And mouth the words in silence.

There is no surgery or cure,
What’s gone is lost forever.
And I must find a way to live
In silent darkness, if I can.
              ljm

Let's go the speed limit, and patiently wait,
  said no one ever, on a U.S. Interstate.

“I wish I would’ve wrote this”
A commonplace feeling for a poet
Though just as easy it be
“I wish someone wrote that
About me.”

Old age,
I learned to be wise,
To be patient,
To know the reality of life,
Gathered knowledge,
All for nothing ,
Cause I am beginning to forget even the basic things.
29/10/2022

New plans and ideas to rise up. From the bottom to the top spoke up tired of being silent. Knowing having an opinion causes enemies instead of bringing gaps. Not taking the crap anymore took a stand even if it meant being alone.
Hard to sleep with "what if" on the mind? Asking "when?" And is it truly worth it. So many ideas the heart dk how to feel or what to think anymore this mind racing on the redline.