Stumbling

falling over and down into the severely stark edges of dusty old cold shadows that stretch out loosely from dark corner spaces in gravely shaded rooms producing lacerations and bruises on bruises as blackened barbs catch sleep shrouded shin skin naked unarmored arms on the way to midnight ritual of quick snacking or full bladder relieving.

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Dry Spell

Right now I am struggling through a writing dry spell.  Normally when this happens I switch to some other creative endeavor for some period of time, particularly music — but that’s not happened this time.  Thinking I am struggling with a low-grade depression.  Hmm.. Anyway here’s a photo I just took to look at and […]

Sun Shunned Days

Cold bitter waters wash over slick wooden edges in sprays of fear – frigid and tiny little piercings of pin-pricks of wet pain weary and numb worn limbs, as darkness masks the icy swales of this emotional torrent. clinging to the storm shaken lifeboat barely buoyant breath held on heaving swales, praying to any god that listens […]

Does the tone of music produces say anything about mood?

As someone that struggles with bipolar disorder, I find music impacts me at a very visceral level.  I don’t know how it is for ‘normies” (i.e. people without mental or emotion disorders), but music can, and often does, impact my mood in very intense ways. That said, it’s not always as you might think.  When […]

Sailing on Emotions — A Poem about Struggles with Depression

   Rough waters wash over slick  wooden slivered edges Spilling frigid waters of fear and little pin-pricks of pain  to weary and numb worn limbs, in the deepening darkness of this emotional torrent,  meyself,  like a storm shaken life boat barely bouyant  sailing between swales, searching skies for signs  of an eventual end to  these sun shunned days.     ~~~~ […]

Night — A Poem about (yup, you guessed it) Night

Dark nights snuff out dusky gunpowder skies dogs bark coded messages to each other, a sort of Morse Code “I see someone, I see someone” or “They won’t let me in, and I am cold” as darkness consumes their kenneled or chained world Children lie awake in crib and bunk bed gasping at queer sleepyland […]