Just January,

Dogs that chase me here
Are not dogs but walk on two
Scratching and clawing to get to you

Find my weakness
Not my need to be here
But to provide the walking green

Waking it’s in fitful cry
Thrashing thrown about inside
Of these dream I do not sleep

But it is in my waking day or night
That follow me here
To this delayed karma

The wrong I have done
Is not subject to such torture
Undeserved punishment for being here
this long.


So few are far between these blogs and prose I write. To jilted in my own world, psyche, mind, almost everything till I go out and see. See if it all proves me right. So I write. And today I did little but what I did still is something that I put down here. Maybe? No promise. Promise you will. Promise me you will waken the beast that is not a best by your measure but that voice that is buried inside. Crying sometimes. Let him out damn it. So he can breathe, live, and rejoice and be happy, as you have said you wanted him to be, as he needs to be. Let him out now. Promise this forever.