The evening winter sky panel resembles the stained windows
at the Methodist Church
Though I dare not enter I'm sure it's a beautiful
place
Awe inspiring like the first light of day upon my
face , the morning view from a hillside home place
The ringing bells on Sunday morning chime like a
Stratocaster with a touch of chorus
I wonder if they have a guitar somewhere behind the pulpit
The Baptist Church has a picker I've been told
Avoiding religion religiously ensures that I will
never really know* ..

I learned of life’s fragility
as I left home for

fourth-grade class
one May morning

to find boots with
a body attached

under our tall
juniper
tree.

The Christmas wine bottle is already empty
Seems the family has little if any empathy
Yet I'm quite content , drunk , carefree
and talkative
Another ten pounds fatter on honey ham ,
egg nog and cinnamon biscuits
Some get high on the festivities
I require a tad more intensity
So douse the fruit cake in Sangria
and chill the gin , strike up another round of rummy
and deal me in* ..

Did you see
My portrait?

Tiny figure in a corner of
Mountains and lakes

This is who I am

Small

Not

Insignificant

Drowning myself in the voices of others;
Fighting a battle I shouldn't be giving a **** about;
Feeling defeated over words,
Sharper than any sword you'll sharpen;
In my venomous words,
I hide my cowardice.
Yes,
I want to make it stop,
Yes,
I want to give up,
Yes,
I want to end everything,
But everything's relying on this one mistake.
No matter how many words I'd jot down,
It won't go away.
No matter how much I try to chain it down,
It'll just come back more vicious than before.
It goes to show what you try to hide under the light,
Would be complete hell when you let it loose.