I need to take responsibility. And that it hurts people. Who deserve no hurt in their hearts. To those mere angels walking beside me. Thet perfect too perfect match. In front of my face. Hanging heavy on my eyelids. Pushing me off into slumber. Come to the front of your mind. With the thoughts which have lingered. In the back corners of your dark mind.

This content is password protected. This content is password protected. This content is password protected. Time is of the essence.

She was patting him in the hospital too back then, and she had caressed him in his wooden cradle before all the world went to hell in a big ball of fire for him. Oh, but you forgive. What would I want for her otherwise? Is that what I really want? For him to be proud of me? Yes, of co.

Remembering Sea Lions and Mistakes. There are moments where I feel. Exposed down to heart and bone. No sound pierces wrestled waves. Of tear and reflective muscle as if. Floating were some concrete contract. With the weight of irresponsible sadness. Of a million hardened frozen compasses. Shadows bend as they may. As veiled thoughts whirl astray. Sometimes I can never heal. Yet the seconds seem pass with.

200 DAY OF SILENCE PART V. Follow My diary on WordPress. On Her Voice Part II.

From a hippy beach town. In the North Dakota Oilfield. 47 The only Road That I Have Ever Know. 46 Insane in the Membrane. 40 Days and Forty Nights. 37Give and it will be given to you. 36 Lost And Found Pen. 29 They Are All Hungry.

Train to Quakers, with image from Abbie Foxton. Monsoonal light of our childhood.