Writing

Another day, sundown… Another night sundown. Orange to black, sundown. Fades to midnight blue. There’s nothing I can’t do.

Here comes the night and I don’t know why, I hear your voice and I lose my way. Where are you now? Can I touch you somehow? You’re somewhere near sleep, where images fade… and here comes the sun. Another night is down. Here comes the sun and here I go again.

Saw the man he was shot down. Eyes rolled white, he was shot down. Breathed goodbye, that sound. Fades to midnight blue. There’s nothing I can do.

And here comes the night and I don’t know why I hear your voice and I lose my way. Where are you now? Can I touch you somehow? You’re somewhere near sleep, where images fade. And here comes the sun, another night is done. Orange to black, sundown. Fades to midnight blue. There’s nothing I can do.

Peggy told me that she’s bored and thought that there’s nothing worse than boredom… when suddenly I realized that the one advantage of being tethered to a narcissist is you are seldom bored.

You never know what’s coming down the road however you can be certain that drama will ensue.

Now I didn’t advise Peggy to have a child with a narcissist… I was just trying to point out that boredom might not be getting a worse reputation than it deserves.

I don’t know why my baby loves clowns Whose painted on tears never fall down. I don’t know what she sees in their eyes. Perhaps the line tween horror/surprise.

I don’t know why my baby can’t sing… Why Carnival music isn’t her thing. It fills my head when I’m at the fair. Searching for clues in clowns everywhere.

I don’t know why she screams at night… I hope it’s not why she holds me so tight Cause I’m the type I’m weak for love. Carnival music I rise above.

Is it the pain or is it the fear? For some Carnival crime from yesteryears? Maybe it’s you, maybe I’ll never know. Maybe it’s me, baby let go.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the kings horses and all the kings men, tried and they tried, but she fell down again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall… She went to her shrink, ended up at the mall. Humpty Dumpty wanted it all.

The day the voice moved in with me… He brought his good friend fear.        Said we all share your heart and soul. You’ll soon forget we’re here.

The day the voice moved in with me. Peace and sleep moved out. And the addict he was at the door. The Voice did jump and shout.

Said, “We like you, we like it here.          We know you like us too. And we know you’ll like our friends cause true friends are so few.

The Voice would talk for hours about nothing much at all and all the noise would wake the fear and the drunk would wake withdrawal.

Years had passed in tears and stains and I had to kill the fear. The Voice he left in the middle of night said he didn’t like it here.

The Voice returns sometimes when I sleep, but he’s gone when I’m awake. The strength it took to kill the fear was more than he could take.

The drunk is with the addict and they live from coast to coast. And sometimes when I pray to God, I pray you’re not their host.

Singing… We like you we like it here and we know you like us too. And we know you’ll like our friends cause true friends are so few.

No I never met her, she was legend around the Lake. Beautiful as a ballerina and colder than a snake.

They said no man could refuse her but some were glad they did. And the one she selected, is in a bottle where he hid.

Until his son came calling, “Dad now it is OK.”! I’m 16. She’s left for the coast, and her beauty’s gone away.

The moral of the story or so that I’ve been told, is head removal from your ass gets easier when you’re old.

It’s not the same as when I was a kid Thankfully!! Oh Dear God did I loathe family gatherings and that dreadful car ride to boredom.

I ask my daughter, “What do you want to do?” Today she wants to pick up kitty litter for her cats.

As you wish…

Tom is a new friend I’ve known for less than a year, from the gym. I hadn’t seen him for a few weeks. He said, “I had emergency brain surgery a couple weeks ago. They said I must have bumped my head but I don’t remember. I was bleeding in my skull. I’m lucky to be alive… I know I should feel different than before, but I don’t.”

I told him I understood.

It’s funny how when I turned 60, I just seemed to accept for the first time that the end was inevitable and I seemed, like Tom, to accept that.