The trick is, if you’re upset, to STOP: and ask yourself if you are HUNGRY, ANGRY, LONELY or TIRED.

The wisest will tell you that we so seldom speak of being LONELY that the symbol should be referred to as H.A.T.

Having thoughts lots about dying.

And other things that I don’t know.

Its not the fear that’s got me down.

Just that I don’t want to go.

Now sure I know I have no choice.

Has been made abundant and clear.

This transformation is all the rage.

I just kinda like it here.

I hear all this complaining.

What’s wrong about this and that.

You never really stood a chance.

With an attitude like that.

It’s calmer in the evenings, bathing in that sparkling light.

Just moments of peace and wonder where wonder brings the night.

Before the fears take over and time has had her way.

Its nothing short of dying and those words you try to say.

It’s because we love and want and out of that we grow the fear.

When I see my daughter and wish my Mom was here…

I saw her in the mid day.

Later her voice was on the phone.

She told me what she wanted.

I asked, “Are you still alone?”

She told me that she wasn’t.

But that the company wasn’t great.

I said, “Now imagine that’s forever…

And choose wisely who you mate.”

I cleaned my entire house including under the kitchen sink … where I found a previous residents drug stash.

Having had my day with such activities I was blindsided by the unexpected and got triggered.

I had drug using dreams last night for the first time in more than a decade and found myself having thoughts of…

I flushed twice.

The glitter  lost her luster.

Paranoia’s all the rage.

We’re staying in and looking out.

Too scared to turn the page.

It’s something in the water?

No, it’s something in the air.

Its’ cool now in the evening

I miss that I don’t care.

The meetings, so important.

They come in two’s and pairs.

To speak in rhymes in torrent.

Spreading hope, and no one cares.

Except Karen, who’s going solo.

Secretly despises chairman Jim.

She saw him at Club Soho.

Years ago, ignored by him.

So much drama and then silence.

To make the pain frame into word.

And in a perfect stream of violence.

Where tears of laughter are absurd.

Slim left, but he stayed sober.

More or less for reasons spite.

It’s not that they were all so wrong.

It’s just so weird to be that right.

Eight hundred fifty followers.

Many far fewer views.

Where did everybody go?

I’m still here, so spread the news.

I’ve been writing and reposting.

To the super human crews.

They speak in a foreign tongue now.

About depression blogging blues.

There’s no preaching in the pulpit.

No more tithing paying dues.

There might be someone saying prayers.

But the numbers will be few…