Ordinary is so uninspiring
Does anyone strive to be ordinary
setting sights on the status quo?

Extra-ordinary seems better
More exciting and interesting
More the stuff of success

But the ancients prayed with zeal
and sacrifice every evening
that the sun would rise again the next day.

They strove to appease and please their gods
So that the rains would fall in times of drought
So that babies would be born
and seeds would sprout.

And on death’s threshold
we bargain for one more day
to spend among the Living
Laughing and Loving
savoring the ordinary things
previously overlooked.

Lord
Let me see the sunrise one last time
Or hear  a gentle rain
Or hold a newborn baby in my arms
before these ordinary, everyday things
Vanish with my last sunset.

You were always high
 but never off my mind
  Still I wanted you with all my heart maybe I was too blind to see that I was too kind to your addiction
and baby I wish it was all just fiction, but oh you were my affliction.

I'm always missing what we had,
  I loved you with all my heart

  You said you loved me like you've    never loved before
you said I was the best thing that  ever happened to you, you swore.
You said the thought of me was your favorite kind of high
You said that no pill, ***** or ***
couldn't even begin to create
the high my presence delivered
That I was the only drug you needed.

Well, you said a lot of things.

You were always high but I did not mind,
your eyes and the way you smiled were too distracting to notice you were just acting to love me the same way I loved you

You hurted me like no one ever had
You had all my heart
but I didn't have yours
I've given up hope
You'll always love me less
than you love your dope

He awoke one morning sobbing and crying. He didn't know why, but on the inside he felt like he was dying.
He could hear his wife and kids going on about their day as he lay in the bed.
He tried to be strong for them, tried to wipe away his tears but he couldn't.
And instead of being the stereotypical man, keeping his head held high and going to work with his own two hands... he fell to the floor and cried out in pain. His crying was uncontrollable; the tears ran down his cheeks and hit the floor like pouring rain.

He was diagnosed with depression so he took drugs to relieve himself of his compression.
He took the drugs so he could once again open his eyes and see the color of the day.
He took the drugs so he could smile, look around and not be afraid to go this way or that way.
Each time he would take the med, he would smile because he knew soon enough he would be better. But what he didn't know, was that smile would soon turn to a dread. That wasn't suppossed to happen.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months not going to work. Each and every day he would look at his adult hands but each and every day, he would feel less like a man and more like a child. He was in even more pain now.
He felt more and more like suicide was the only way out, but every time that thought crossed his mind, he cried. He was afraid of what might happened if he tried.
Would it hurt? But what could hurt worse that the pain he was feeling at that moment?

He had a voice but it was soft spoken and no one could hear it, or maybe he just didn't know how to explain the pain he felt on the inside and out.
On the inside he was reaching out for help but his hands wouldn't move, he was stuck in time, stuck in this groove.
He became disabled and was denied disability over and over again.

He went to doctor appointment after doctor appointment and continued to sign his life away with the same ******* pen.
He would frequently fall into pits of darkness and the professionals kept pushing facility after facility. They wanted to take him away from his family and make him someone else's liability.

He often wondered if there was anyone else out there that knew his pain. He tried to explain, but never could. Let's say he was actually able to, what would he gain?
It would just be another person feeling sorry for him, and he didn't need that.
Could anyone else really know what it's like to wake up every day just to be terrified to go outside?

And it wasn't that he didn't give it any effort because believe it, he tried.
Could anyone else really know what it's like to walk in public and feel every pair of eyeballs watching?

He knew he wasn't like everybody else and he knew they knew it too.
He constantly felt like he was in a play, center stage and everyone was watching it.
He tried to keep his head down, he tried to not give a **** but it didn't work.
He was a marrionette puppet, he couldn't control his movements. Back to center stage it was a nuisance.

Oh how he wished he could just go back to being depressed and ****. At least he could pretend and try to repress it, like Robin Williams.
But in reality Robin Williams was gone. And a few days after the news broke, he found out he was taking the same **** Robin was on.

Twisted and delusional is all this will ever be. We keep moving forward being people we don't want to be

Our minds are stuck on a small and lonely place; this is all because we're trying to resemble someone else's face.

All I ever wished for is that I could freely love, but everytime I try it's so hard not to be judged.

We are all cookie cutters and different is not a word.
Same is the same
and that's all that is in this world.

Not a good thing
When one lives in poverty
Situations are often dreary
While in a state of uncertainty
There are dark clouds
That appear in the sky
Nothing but somber moments
As life sadly passes you by

A good friend goes on
to the end and doesn't
drop out
half way through.

I knew some of them men
who were
some of the best men
You could wish for
for friends.

They say
It all ends when the fat lady sings
but
give me the wings and I'll fly
to a different day and play this
game of life another way
and who knows
I could even win

The next time if it comes will be the time for our daughters and sons to make good friends

I won't be here then
I'll be with the other men in that other place
which may be the best place for me.

But we live and some of
the choices we make
make this heart that we break that much colder
and getting older don't get you no wiser to the where and the why of why is it we try,

We teeter on the edge of trying too much and such is the way of some.

You call and if you meant me there is plenty though not twenty anymore and more like three score but there's at least ten years left to go
so
come at me Delilah while I count my blessings to have had such a good friend as you.