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Personal Note:

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Poem

It’s so hard to be stuck in the middle of what the hell is this thing, the feeling the 
thought that goes through my mind is twisting and turning, contorting the corners 
of my brain till there’s no more room for imaginable thoughts just demons and 
ghouls in the night they haunt your dreams 
The dream-maker’s dead, gone to heaven never again to make dreams for the 
little sleepers in their slumber under blankets of comfort after a hard day’s work 
that didn’t seem to end 
until it did like it always does and melancholy sweeps the streets of a dark 
afternoon with drab shadows of a creep come and get me you can’t have me, I’m 
invincible, for now but tomorrow’s another story; little girlie prayin by her bed little 
girlie reading books she hopes will stick inside her head to find acceptance 
maybe love; to be loved is that the greatest gift?  
Desire mercy beg pardon for our sins for the guilt that rises in us for the 
inexpressible wrongs we right we can’t right the wrong the spirit in the night is 
darker than this thing hovering over my head only to hurt it and be hurt by it to 
grow up those are two different things all things considered the sun also rises 
on the other side but not till we’re asleep.  Always sleeping, ever-awake, time 
stops, the panic smarts, the day of yesterday is lost, the unimportance of what’s 
passed is forgotten like my lost cash.  I need your stash
I’m fallin harder every time I fall more often than not as my brain turns inside out.

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