Pathological . . .
Lies will see the light of days
Someone knows the truth
dark, fragmented, an unknown cause
Where’s the why?
What’s the how?
When was the when?
Questions re-surface again and again, blisters of a blind faith lost
with answers that mean little to nothing, because it’s all shit
But where is the truth?
and the truth turns into it
With my back against the wall, I fight a blackened and diseased system
I kick, and I scream for ice
to soothe a bursting violet bruise, an ever so slightly discoloured rip in the delicate epidermis
And I bleed.
thick, tepid and red,
And for the blessed life of me, I just can’t stop . . .
I’m “lighting” a candle on the blog tonight for a dear friend that’s currently traveling through the sometimes bumpy and complex labyrinth of life.
My wife and I are praying for her to get through this nasty thing.
I understand all too well the power of prayer. So . . .
I’m asking for a few words whispered to the stars, maybe a candle lit in your home tonight in her memory.
My hope is that in several days things will look just a bit brighter.
Take a minute and do me that small favor, okay?
She will appreciate the prayers more than you’ll ever know.
I thank you all sincerely, in advance