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Personal Note:

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Poem

It's damned and it's free.
 It's torture and it's passion.
 It's you. All things to be.
 It's hypocrisy and the attitude of similar fashion.
 It's the cliches and the daily platitude defying the laws of attraction.
 It's you.
 The midnights and the rainy sunrises and the white nights and the see you at the grocery store surprises the long evenings the  no wine and lame tv endurance....go me. The suspended time on a Saturday morning between eyes  blinded by sun and the moment we say  it. Life finds a way. 
 Everyday. It's you.
 It's the wind on a Sunday and the silence in December, the dust on a freeway . It's you.
I fail to forget. I die when I remember.
 It's you 
 It's the ballgame I watched yet saw nothing it's the pints I drank  it's the talk I faked and the peace in solitude. 
 I'm not lonely alone I'm just on my own. 
 I'm learning to live I'm learning the sun sets despite my small self. I know I can give and one day put you on a shelf.
 It's the whispers and the thunder it's the screams and the six feet under. It's you.
 It's always gonna be you.
 There's no run no fix and finish there's no home free to be
 It's you. It's never me.

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