The alarm clock rings
and once again
the rooster sings
the morning new.
Slumbering flowers
lift their petals to drink
the drops of dew.
  Reliable Sun
vanquishes the darkness
as he lightens the sky.
  I see an honored guest
is in the garden,
his tiny nametag reads... butterfly.

       But on the other side of town
       someone struggles with
       addiction.

 Habits grab hard,
break will powers  in two.
The will becomes won't
and the power is all through.
Satiated,
temporaneously satisfied.
only till the next time the habit has to be gratified.
The victim moves on trying to reassemble his day
Avoid
a crooked roaded relapse,
along the way.

Oh ghost of the host why must repitition repeat the most
and feel so good in its continuation?
Why must familiarity breed the need
for more familiar feelings?
To the point of killing control, sealing a fate,
dealing defeat,
stifle healing.

     If your out there guardian soul, spirit helper, what's your roll, your goal? 
 Guiding with helping hand or let stand the habitualized
habit man.

Isn't there  a self preservation station within?
A gland or impulse control button to switch from sin to win?

Even Edgar Allan Poe stubbed his toe on a ten step program trying to get in the door.
Ill-begotten and craven, drunken and unshaven cried the raven...never more.

Guiding spirit it ends here!         

No more slave to the crave
or impulse picking from the addiction tree.
The need to repeat and repeat
the pattern becomes a self fulfilling prophesy.

Back to normalacy, complacency,
it's a moderation that one seeks.
To enjoy the ****** of bells, hallalulah wails,
a babies dimpled cheeks.

Can you do that Spirit helper, please.
Let sing the bodies vibration.
 No more internal damnation.
No more self flagellation.
Allow to draw power from these words.
Think of this all as an intervention!

I was asked
"Is the glass half empty, or half full?"
I answered, "the glass is refillable"
But they do not understand
How long it has taken to get to that
The medicines I take
The mantras I repeat
Every minute, hour, day
The fact I submerse myself in life
Trying to find that "normalacy"
The medicines help
They keep my monster locked away
At least, I like to think they do
It is still there
Taunting me behind bars
Attempting to break free
Devour me with its darkness
I may seem normal
Happy-go-lucky
But they don't see
How much I fight
To keep the monster from me

Here I am once again
Drowning in the words my heart over flows with
What a pity it is to think
That despite the closure
Despite the normalacy
Despite the feeling of getting a grip on everything
I still have an inkling of hope
That you are writing about me

But I know it isn't true
And I know it's just a wish
But what I do not know is why
Why do I still wish
Why do I still hope?

Will this feeling ever go away?

Some days are better than others.
some days i can get up.
get dressed.
Without any thought or anxieties.
other days.
I wake up.
and the first thing that happens,
is an onslaught of worries.
Of things that might happen.
Things that could go wrong.
On those days i drown.
Trying to hold it together.
To get through the day.
Faking my normalacy.
But often i fail.
Questioning everyone around me.
Paranoid.
Growing distant.
Building walls.
Some days,
The walls are so high i can't see anything.
Just lonely darkness.
But missing everyone
Most days,
I Am Drowning.

A GAME OF TWO HALVES

Ahhh the smell of the crowd
the roar of the vid screen.

Live players
with zoomed up fans.

trying to replicate the sights
and sounds of normalacy.

The unreal
real.

One can be present
so to speak

upon a giant screen
40 metres long

and feeling
9ft tall.

A vast improvement
on the German game

which filled the stadium
with smiling cardboard fans.

But alas with their side
beaten 3-1

the cardboard fans
were still smiling.

A not very realistic
ending.

The Koreans placed
*** dolls in the stands

but they were not interested
and could't understand

the offside rule.