I'm not ok

It's probably the weather, so they say. Of flu bugs and cough drops. But the days' been great. Plenty of sunshine to feed an entire greenhouse nation and plenty of smiles to bring you past the death toll of this easter summer daylight savings demise.

So say, this is the brink of it all. And I am constantly pushed, nudged. Hell, I do it to me too, so why am I alluding as such? The edge is coming close and I for one have vertigo. It's a growth that came with the birth package.

I stood in the congregation today wondering what the fuss was all about. What really is this all about? Yes, there goes the model answers of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness... my goodness, I really don't get it. Everyone had a silver spoon hanging from their earlobes and I cannot help but feel alienated. Yet, there was a homeless man recently salvaged raising his hands in praise to the music that was just simply inviting and advocating.

Does it make you weak? Does it make you strong? Strong enough to go be someone great? I wish some kind of calamity, just once in your life, just to give you the taste of fire and see if it burns you. I feel masochistic, yes. Does anyone want to switch trains? Mine's charging at 11,000 miles a second. No time to blink or think of. So brushing off was the best medication. Funny this is one of those last days of your life and you haven't even decided what you want for your final meal. But as they say only cowards do. So there I go trying to look good in front of you again. Should I really care? This gift given from a toddler's hand messed up with the sexual incognitos of discipline and banished vineyards. I try to be a good boy to avoid the pain but pain seems to give the pleasure you would die for some girl next door. Which explains the threshold therein. I feel like, actually I don't to fucking feel anything. It's shit loads of arguments played back in my mind for nights and days and I need to let it out on someone. And I just horned on some stupid woman who would not look to give way. I guess I'm still blaming that one girl who thought she took my heart away. She took more than that and I seem to be spending my whole lifetime which is this year past trying to find my feet and shoes to wear them to go out and function like a good responsible father, child, man with testosterone should. Yes, I blame you for everything even if it makes me look like a childish kid running around the block.

Maybe you should stop reading this rant right now because this honesty is too much, don't you think? What should I do? What choices have I got? I'm still gritting my teeth even though the tide has turned and the next geeneration is taking over. I feel shelved and even crushed within to go after anyone out of sheer desperation for love. No man nor woman nor animal seems to satisfy. Even that has a price to feed and I am struggling to feed me now.

I respect only the stories that go past the boundaries of neat packages, histories, cultures. Don't talk to me about purpose for this is so over the hill and I am going mad by the minute. I just hope I don't implode inside. For when that happens, you won't be reading this kind of writing. Lord have mercy and grace.

Route to Boston

This is not a holiday spree. No, nor one of those relocations. I've spent a good part of my lifetime culling the lifeblood out of uprooting, migrating and all that leaver jazz. It's pain right now even as I speak.

I came home with a sense of tenacity and drive. It was shortlived. My gas ran out in a matter of days shortly after the demise. I guess I'm still hung over from the sad love story. Any desire to kill and murder would serve no sentence to this abyss of depression, yet the thought is still so strong. I seek no longer to understand but to be alleviated from this curse I seem to have stumbled upon. Why won't they leave me alone and have me run away to this desert island I am now in? People. Don't you just love and hate them all the same?

I dug deep beneath my breast pockets to find the same tears that left the shores of the sunny garden state still crystalized in form. Do I now go selfishly or listen to the wise sage? Do I seek my pure goals or serve the ones who brought me up? Or do I have to choose at all? Money does solve alot of things and give you time to slow down and breathe. If you haven't had them, how do you know what the other side of the coin really is? So please don't preach me textbook wisdom. For the inception of which comes across as naive folly. Stop me not in my path to the sunset. Cut me not as a poppy growing tall. My pounch grew so fast it seems you have something to do with it. And may I add how I sometimes hate you and not the deed.

If I spoke french and had a different colour, I wonder how different I would be? Not much except a more beautiful conception of suicidal notes bound into a best selling novel. All because white is so much pleasing than an undecided yellow banana. At the least of it, there would be some legacy left after the departure. But even then, would I take it? I tell you this much. It is very tempting.

Some things don't have choices, so don't go there. Seems like I got myself lost in all this silly rubbish.

Whatever you do, don't let the music die in me. For that day comes with a package of gnashing and grinding and how I dread it in my sleepless nights. Let me go to Boston and free my slaves. Keep the wolves from stealing my dreams of salvation. Just stop the fucking questions.

cjt

May Breakfast Swiftly Come

This is the kind of morning that goes on a possible endless drone. We are 10 minutes late already and there is not a shadow awake. After all, we knocked out past 2am. We all need 8 hours of sleep, but lately my discipline got me sleeping less on work days.

This is the kind of morning where you feel like it's the first day of the rest of your life. Cliche or bullshit you might wanna call it. Last night had such a powerful effect on me just listening to the stories of these young men - the man I was, not too long ago. The heartaches, frustrations and restlessness was once the burden I had on my shoulder. The world weighing in and uncovering sand knee deep. Or so it seemed.

This is the kind of morning that makes me think about the times past and the regrets I felt just 24 hours ago in the light of his kingdom come. A mustard seed waiting, growing and becoming the promise. I feel like that today. My potential so clearly spelt out before me. Have I come such a long way?

This is the kind of morning where I wake up feeling a sense of burden - for people, for the ones I have in proximity. This joy knowing that divine doors are opening into the hearts of the next generation. The opportunity to be the witness of mutiple dreams piece-ing themselves together. That after taste in my mouth still so sweet of yester-youth now becoming the balm of Gilead. Maybe this is growing old. Maybe this is where it starts to hurt once again. Only this time there are wings.

Come fly with me and sing this freedom song.

Suit

It occurred to me this morning between waking and zoning back to sleep, that Grandad had got himself a tailored suit for my bro's wedding some time later in the year.

It hit me that he would have no chance to wear it for his intent, except now, where he is wearing it in his final goodbyes on the send off.

Didn't see the irony till this morning and it took me over the tip for a brief moment. I guess I'm still unpacking my heart.
cjt.

Passing

Grandad passed away this morning while I was driving out to work. Received a warning shot 30 minutes before the confirmation came through.

I can only imagine the scene at his hospital bedside; a still small body losing its warmth.

No one saw him before he breathed his last except my brother.

I am not really sure what else to say or do to mourn, so I shall leave now.

cjt