Shovel

A breath of life through glaring dark.  The action to ignite the spark.  Spraying thoughts into the air.  And leading a path of disrepair.  Lack of pride to consequence.  Triggers primal so intense.  Loose leaf mind on windy day.  Smiling a smile with nothing to say.  Lost in thought and lost in living.  Found my purpose in the giving.  Not enough to ever be.  Different you, same old me.  At my best, not good enough.  Who the f**k decides this stuff?  Sharpened my stone on causing laughter.  And began to fill my empty chapters.  This tome filled with stories galore.  Memories on different shores.  Sandy white to broken shells.  Waters edge, my heaven and hell.  Then there were parties from birth until now.  Beachside gatherings of different crowds.  Daytime barbecue to evening bonfires.  Late night confessions as thoughts conspire.  Friendships born of desired trust.  Can one be forced into wanderlust?  A lost that cannot be explained.  A life lead with a heart detained?  Is that a good enough picture?  And add the details to this odd mixture.  A late night rant of early morning sermons.  Constant complacent of choices determined.  The manic rarely peaks the depression.  So I make my own through thinking sessions.  Breaking through the breaking down.  My razed castle with crumpled crown.  Letting go of my stranglehold.  Out with the new, in with the old.  Old accepted the limiting restraints.  New is filled with constant complaint.  I've travelled this far to get to this?  Did someone tell directions that I missed?  Mentally collapsing over time.  Chaos in my frame of mind.  I don't even know which way to look anymore.  I've already lost everything I've fought for.  I'm not going to lie, it's because of actions or inactions of my own.  People tend to avoid the self destructive prone.  But not the ones with the angel souls.  I owe an eternal debt to those.  And it's with these souls that I f*****g wreck.  And I never set out to lose respect.  I'm slaloming through on fucked up skis.  I'm living life on my knees.  It's not over, but will be soon.  The broken dish running away without the spoon.  Because there is no spoon.

Reviews

[Priscilla Sayers]

You rock. RAW and stunning purity. When true talent brings out emotions that tear the reader apart so much so that you get 24 views and no one, all writers mind you, have no words for you, well love, it seems misery can be expressed and viewed, felt and absorbed, yet only the ones with courage to speak, to voice a thought, are quite lacking. Sorta irritates me, even one who loves on a grand scale, judging none, can see when metaphorical blindness becomes the ailment of fools....
Brilliant work my friend, light and love to you!
XX

[yellow devil]

Thanx, but not to sound callow, it's not kudos I write for, it's the fact that I know a person who I am deeply rooted with is reading these ramblings. As you are no doubt someone who does love on a grand scale, you must realize the basic emotion of being without. That is why I write. She knows what she is to me, and I know I can never have her. By the way, you are the second person to convey love and light to me today. Ironic. Since I just got off of work, I think I shall sleep away this love and light, but hope you find someone who deserves said love and light and gift it to them instead.

[Priscilla Sayers]

My gifts are global my friend!
Yes, write for you, write to release.... you don't ramble, you express:)