I will no longer allow, myself to succumb,
To that path, when I was young,
Fearing not, if I lived or died,
For it mattered not, if I tried
To have drinks, dance or race cars,
Beneath the dark sky, with sparkling stars.
My memories, of these events, grow dim;
My youth, is no longer a whim
Or fancy affair of daring, so odd,
As I have now, finally found God.
Praise the Lord, for these wonderful things,
As I truly do live amongst kings,
With friends, of long standing, near,
No longer, is it death I fear.

The words hang heavy
over my head,
pressing firmly,
around my neck,
weighing me down,
without uttering a sound,
I have drowned
in my silence.

(a little re-write from 12/2017)

A lonely tear, slides down my cheek
as I think of this life of ours.
It pains me when recalling you,
now the tear has become two.
I am not weeping, there is no more.
Just the tick of a clock.

My mind is running away from me.
I think I need a pre frontal lobotomy.
Thoughts that are stuffed in every place,
Wedged in cracks or any empty space.
I need some time. Time to think
Or I may have to turn to drink.