I like to think of myself as a stepping stone.
As a teacher, if you will.
The one who will surrender
for the knowledge of the ill.


In times of pity and in sorrow
I remember nature’s call,
Because I am but an animal
And otherwise I’ll fall


Or rise
One day to my surprise
I may find
The stepping stone my Holy bind.


In-se-cur-i-ty
And then I realize while I thought I was teaching them,
They were teaching me
How to learn, love, laugh
At them, at me
Accept myself for who my God wants me to be.


In the end it’s only you
You that knows and grows
And anyone with eyes can see
a stepping stone can’t do so.

And then you let it all sink in

the hurt

that you pounded into the bottom

of your heart like a stake

stuck in the Earth.



Piercing, twisting, aching

and you want it to stop but then the floodgates open.

It all floods out at once

and you don’t know what to do.



You’re exhausted.

Drained of hope, empty

Bent, not broken.
More aware.
Awoken

With each tweak
there is a hardening
Solidifying the foundation.
Finding strength.

It beats, it cries.
Tears engulfing,
it never lies.

Moving, wavering
always pushing through
the time.
Trying not to look back.

Bent it it, not broken.
Finally aware.
Awoken

Depressing skies
eternal lies.
Dysfunctionality.

All at once
took the punch.
Knocked out forever, see.

Down the chute
hold back rebuke.
Tomorrow it will be.

Self-pity
hard hitting.
Never will you be.

Trust is gone
no healing song.
Forever long.

Click. Type, click.
Type, click. Click.
Boring. Change photo. Filter


Black & White.  No. Sepia?
Wait, album! Pictures, finding pictures.
Oh…that.


clickclickclickclick

Click—click—CLICK.


W­hat is that? Why is that?
Why me, why not me?
Where is me? Me is lost.

Click.