Doth write to thy heart's content- dare I,
Maketh thy nation a safe place to speak.
Command thy people I beg thee,
Doth not rede then; "How to love a nation thee?"
Bestow upon us the key,
Maketh thy people free.
Mouths turn'd mute whilst hearts grown cold,
stoned in fear.a
 
Grace- Sire!
Feel us thy people,
See us thy people,
Pity! Hath not?
 
All this but a plea,
For a soul shall perish lest free,
Mercy- Sire!
  
----
*Note: My heart sings through letters.

Lost beneath hopelessness and despair unwilling to understand the difference between wanting, caring or seeking help for hurts we all sometimes feel being alone in our pain. The cost is too much, the thought is so deeply buried under pounds of countless attempts to bargain for relief. 

Waiting for proof, validation anything to lift the unbearable certainty wanting life to be worth more than this, this discarded buffet of flesh. Dumped to be sifted through by laughing callous hands looking for parts to be salvaged for repurpose.

Will this storm never end? Misfortunes dawdle within exhausting memories. Can there be a glimmer, a ray of hope? Drenched, defeated, wrung out, lost and burning for answers or where to look for something to hold on to, something worth more than this flood of perceptions.

Standing at an intersection one way a cliff the other shrouded in obscurity. A choice can bring peace or more pain. Not choosing is a choice. Enduring the moment brings no relief only memories of the countless attempts lost to choosing not to choose. Will this time be any different?
​
Wringing our hands dreaming for a sign, motivation, a notion that may bring movement one way or the other. The cliff or obscurity? The discarded pound of flesh or the flood of painful perception? We’ve been here before, touched the ray of hope, discarding hopelessness, to know the rainbows are real.

Fog over all spread’s confusion. Is this for real?
Up is more than just up right it’s a struggle to remain standing. Still?
Each step a struggle, what foot goes - brain fog - In front of the other?
Left then right wobble, teeter don’t fall right then left?
Step stutter step wobble stand in place and wait. Now where am I?
Am I where I was when the fog came in? Standing upright waiting, move. Forword?
Just another step my destination in site. The door. Open!
Move though, stay up right, sway, stand, wait in the fog for the boys. Are they in?
Every morning’s the same as the fog waits, I stand wobble, teeter, and step?
I let the dogs out another time. Another step, keep going one more!
Back in bed. The fog fades. Again, a day begins first thing in the morning.

I'd stopped

              gone back

                          to where I always was

This home of no sky, cracked bottles, pain
 
           in just the right places

                      except

                                     I lived

& the world turned gold moons, sinew,
shimmered doves & darkness was both
static and changing

Pain churned as death, humming body,
hollowed out desolation, I lived through,
decay in clumps, clusters, wasps on cold
floors, numbness, sharp jaw, insides
ripped, unclean surfaces, skin, breath,
enough blood to drown the leopards,
vomiting their names, violence towards
myself, too many times to count or more
than the rest, those days, so many, or that
one hour that took away the light, oh
silence, sometimes you are not sweet, not
mountain air, not the slow ripple of water,
sometimes you are worse than anything
else