Is life then
but a needed purge
after  the deluge
of a thwarted urge?

Why did I permit
my love to perch
on a brittle branch
about to snap, left in the lurch?

I am to blame, none else
it had always been me I encourage
an impossible dream to chase
in impatience, more often in rage.

The long past has slipped
away in painful memory--age
has spoken and farewelled has youth
it's true--love is false and a cruel *******.

You are  an inspiration to many.
Your life fills many with Hope.
Because Jesus has rescue you.
For he has saved your life here.
Revealing himself to others here.
Through what he is doing in your life.
After all his Spirit does dwell in you.
Doing many miracles in your life.

Without knowing what else to do
What else to write
I sit and glare at a book only half finished
I look for help
Nothing seems to help my writer’s block
Getting rid of a character might do the trick

The protagonist?
Maybe?
Or maybe not
I don’t know

I’m just tired of writing this autobiography

Life
is a narrative
what parts of you
should you forgive?

i could never be in your arms for long.

forever on the sunset-lit backroad.

always in a halo-colored room.

staring blankly at a live screen.

wondering what my life means to me.