This path I walk is not my own; it’s paved with genetic markers, familial dysfunction, and ancestral angst. Can you see them walking with me?
Tired of same old endings, in which hopes are slaughtered and tragedy and insanity win. Raised by the bottle, learned to set standards low –
Curious by nature, and drawn by hope we push forward spring ourselves from the mud-mired traps of psychological undoings focus on a horizon where
The initial spoonful – salted caramel cool – consoles bitten tongue, slides down burning throat: appeasement for churning gut. Each spoonful savoured sweetness countering bile,
I am contributing! Are these lessons not abundance – success? Authorities are dissatisfied; want me back in the game, insist disability has an end –
Thick morning mist hovering… the call of a loon alluring… scent of cedar and pine refreshing… I breathe in, exhale releasing… early morning rays warming…