With precision we have destroyed Particles of ourselves impossible to recover With fate and lives we toyed And our bodies, souls smothered Families, relationships distraught Was something experience should have taught Yet with logic we always belie That on our own breakage we can try Only with help can we reclaim That sense of calmness which we can bask And that suasion may come with many names We need only ever ask
I'm merely a wanderer, seeking to set roots and call somewhere home, It's rather tiresome to be at the whims of the wind. So, for now at least, DC is home-base for me. Always hoped to one day be a published writer/poet, but I fear this art is a dying one. If I must be one of the last standard-bearers of it, then I would call myself lucky.
I know,I just know… ..If I abuse I will be gone gone gone gone. More than a junkie, you can’t see it. I crave worse than narcotics. (I would trade this for being an alcoholic) Tragic? yeah it is tragic.