I slept in on a Friday.

Drousy sleepy all the day.

I rang up on a close friend.

On a beach, far far away.

Another year arrives on Monday.

I try to watch like I don’t care.

My boy said he’s a girl now.

This one broke me. In two, I swear.

I’m not here in soul or spirit.

Just in flesh in sweat and grind.

I tell myself that all is groovy.

But the love I just can’t find.

It’s all quiet in the evenings.

Lightning mists of swirling grey.

In a world that wants to break me.

Will have to wait far, far away.

I am going narcissistic.

From here on out, it’s only me.

I don’t care; outside opinions.

You take your chances. See what you see.

In my head where there’s all reasons.

I leave it there in case I lose.

No broad strokes. No fine tuning.

No new friends is what I choose.

I say, “I don’t care bout the little things.” But mostly, it’s what I do.

I try hard not to say too much. Because really, none of it is true.

Damaged from pain, hard living. Really just rotten to the core.

If I cared about the little things. Then you’d be knocking at my door.

There’s no hope, no silver linings. There’s no possibility for truths.

I was taught by all those scallywags. Changing costumes in phonebooths.

There are lessons in the darkness. There are rules no one adheres.

We don’t care about the little things. We smile brightly, don’t talk of fears.

I was looking for the answers.

Young Earth had just got old.

In a search for cure of cancers.

No one knew or truth be told.

I was reading at the Google.

Hummed a song that Kanye dealt.

I got drunk and played her bugle.

No one cared bout how I felt.

There are answers. I keep trying.

All this time that I could waste.

At the end, there’s no denying.

It’s all God. No copy-paste.

I can’t say I’m shocked. I didn’t expect less complaining. However, I did think there might be more gratitude.

I understand human nature for what it is: undeniable selfish.

I was told: ‘You will know a new freedom and a new happiness. You will be amazed before you are halfway through.’

Well, I must be nearing the halfway mark because I am truly amazed.

Whenever I hear someone talk about their energy or spirituality, I automatically freeze up!

This is due to the assumption that I believe they don’t know what they are talking about.

“Oh I could be wrong!”

20 years ago when I was in the company of like minded practicing alcoholics and crack  addicts; I often got a similar vibe when I was being told by these folks as to how honest they were…

Which reminds me: What’s the difference between an alcoholic and a crack addict?

They both will steal from you; however the crack addict will help you look for it later on.

The Expectations were on fire.

Virtues had grown thin.

Love was hanging… worn wire.

There was this need to win.

The penalties were not known.

The lines drawn in the sand.

Emotions were hot and blown.

And nothing much seemed planned.

You took the gold and money.

I have this heart and soul.

I’m not laughing, but you are funny.

I have the kid: that’s how we roll.

The sentence was death by boredom. The virus spread the earth.

Madness rained down upon them. Like some monsters giving birth.

They handed out free money. The kind that makes you soft.

And nearly jumped out their skin. When someone smiled and coughed.

Then Dylan put out an album. With a song called Murder Most Foul.

That sounds as disgusted as I feel. Like the purging of a bowel.

I’ve learned to take the blessings and take them as they come.

He is at another level, a bit too much for some.

I see something sinking here.

Drifting… gone away.

Sinking to that bottom there.

No more light of  day…

Lately, I’ve been drinking here.

I’ve had so much to say.

There’s been all this thinking there.

I have to turn to look away.

It’s just these dreams. That I’m thinking of.

Oh, it’s not what it seems. I don’t believe in love.

Standing here at skies edge there.

With nothing but today.

Walking there on that ledge here.

Don’t you look the other way!!

Some days I just get things right here.

When I hear the  song you play.

Moves me to where I can see you there.

And not look the other way.

You move me… You do.

You move me, you do.

Its just those dreams, that I’m thinking of.

Oh, it’s not what it seems. I don’t believe in love.

Marcus wrote, ‘When you arise in the morning think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive-to breathe, to think, to enjoy and to love. ‘

Now there’s a meditation.

It might be important to note that Mr Aurelius was the last of what was considered to be in Rome…

‘The 5 Good Emporers. ‘ A period of about 200 years that ended in 180 A.D.

Marcus was also a Stoic Philosopher.