I have reached a point in life where I value my opinion above most others.

In any large decision I ask 3 people there opinion before I act.

If I am asking you for your opinion understand I respect you.

Conflict. Court. Judge. Stress.

It’s never as bad or as good as it seems I tell myself and try to let that go…

All this will soon be over following its 15 minutes of fame in the spotlight to die a natural death in the shadows of misery like a fart in a hurricane.

I fight for her and that is the good fight.

…

You got lost. (The gentleness is gone.)

Unable to find the path. (Innocence lost)

That would lead you to the great ambition that you imagined for you… (No crime there.)

Except your disappointments have caused you a misery where you hate all that you are.

Nothing to do.

Except pine for you.

And feeling blue.

Ain’t nothing new.

That stench of sex and success that permeates the pores of the loved and adored in their primes… I have not known.

This phenomenon I have seen and perhaps in my youth I envied, however from this distance, thank God for the afflicted, the stench is fleeting!

Apparently Envy is everywhere.

At least according T.S. Elliott. I am without this. I appreciate the talents of others however don’t want to be like them or be them. This is not delusional. I remember wanting to be anyone but me.

What fortune to grow out of this!

Many have not apparently.

She woke and said, “That was a weird dream…”

I was waiting for her and said, “Care to tell?”

She said, “I left class to use the toilet and I went to another empty class and peed and pooed on a desk. Then the teacher came in… but he was nice to me… I wonder what that means Dad?

“Guessing you don’t like school.”

Apparently it is extremely difficult to tell the truth.

When you’re old there’s that need to embellish the grand olden days of inexperience and in ones youth there’s that need to exaggerate, in an effort to be admired.

The very young have so many examples  of how not to tell the truth; really how could it be any other way for them?

I have a roommate for the first time in decades, a friend who’s helping me with my daughter; as I am without doubt a Single Father.

I heard him talking and a woman’s voice outside my house in the early morning and found out that he went outside to walk off a headache, only to find a young couple smoking crack in our yard.

He asked, “Do you live here?”

She lied, “Yes.”

He responded, “So if I call the cops then you won’t have any problems?”

And finally she said before leaving, “This used to be such a nice neighborhood before all the yuppies moved in.”

Can’t make this shit up.

I gave you my attention, now I take that away.

It’s not in the cards and there’s nothing to say.

It’s cruel and its cold with no dress rehearse.

The words are all stolen, nothing even to curse.

You’ve won and it’s over and memories do fade.

The voices are empty and the music’s been played.