Oh, stay away with your blanket so warm.  
Wrapped in the comfort of lies you have borne.
Like clouds with weight, convene upon my chest.
In the fog of emotion, it is fierce.
To confess this feeling, true to my core,
Unleashed in admission, dead heart, no fear.
Like waves in a fury, they toss, they pull;  
The wind scatters much, not this does it touch.
The steadfast burden, comfort of despair;
Depression is gray to those unprepared.
To free this blanket of anguish and woe;  
The ear of another to hear your hurt,
Shiver your shiver, acknowledge your quake,
This blanket of depression will soon yield.

Baseball holds memories
of many things.
Its fields of diamond
smell of grass green.
White lines border,
holding childhood dreams.
Old men nostalgic
a child’s eyes wide.
Recalling young legs
once strong and lean.
Memories stirring,
the batter steps in.
Just one hit needed
bringing fans to their feet.
The catcher’s stance tense,
the pitcher throws heat.
Arms extend, bat glides  
It is a sweet swing.
Swiftly he strides
his eyes lift as he leaves.
The ball rises quickly;
a hush fills the stands.
The ball leaves the park,
their heads in their hands.

The crowd breaths
as misery sets in,

Yet, one man is left smiling,
his team gets the win.

My Boliviana does give me pause.
With her beauty I shake then shrink
with her tempest storms unleashed.
Passion is heartfelt.
I love her so.

My padded cell could use a little color.

Roads taken are not always perfectly laid out.
Some do not have markers.
Intersections do not indicate the direction with most promise.
When we are faced with obstacles
Smooth out the imperfections.
The hard work comes from solely our own determination.
Understand when we should cut and turn back
When to press on.
We may stumble, we may fall.
A little bit of perseverance
and faith to reach some destinations.
I have found that, once reached,
the journey was worth its sweat.
Earned by grit, guts, and purposefulness.
Satisfaction of will.

Lace on her dress displays just so
Smile with eyes that pierce
Lips that pout
Curves that pulse fiercely
Dreams of boys rarely become real.

Here was one such being
In the moment of wanting
Delicate limbs with an amorous calling

He nervously approached her anxious
Then suddenly turns as words dissipate

This being of wonder recoils at his stance
Looking him foot to face
The eyes of two and souls meet
At this moment he can only feel heart beat

As her tongue curls to back of lip
She evokes to him greeting as only she could
Suddenly cooled, his body deflates
As she speaks with vile and venom

As so the boy learns
As many before
Facades seldom curtain ones beastly interior

Some blood, there will be
our skin, in these, left behind
diaries held true.