Sometimes I reminisce, oh how I miss,
The places and the people that make me feel like this.
I feel so nostalgic, it really is fantastic,
One of life’s highs that keeps me enthusiastic.

But with nostalgia comes sadness, followed by this madness,
As time passes memories fade into the blackness.
This life it is fateful, that’s why I remain grateful,
That way the nostalgia doesn’t feel so painful.

Remembering the bad, but moreso the good times I’ve had,
As I write I miss my old friends just a tad.
A ball in my throat, a tear falls on this note,
My feelings and emotions pour into everything I’ve wrote.

Everyday I stand tall, yet sometimes I fall,
From each of life’s lessons I truly am enthralled.
To say that I have made it, would be an understatement,
For the life I have lived, there really is no replacement.

Dear Grandma,
How are things up in heaven? I hope they are treating you well up there. Have you been watching things down here? It’s been such a mess with our family since you’ve been gone. The family that once stood together has now drifted apart. If you have noticed, no one gets together anymore for gatherings. No one hardly even calls anybody just for a chat or anything. It’s not like when you were around, but we are trying.
Besides that update, I’ve been hanging in there the best I can. Since you last saw me, I’m now married with kids. I’m living on my own now, and I have changed my outlook since surgery five years ago, but I’m still the kind-hearted person you remember. I’ve just had a lot of difficulties in my journeys since then, but I’m trying to stay as strong as possible.
As I mentioned, I have kids now, Grandma. I ended up having two girls, ages 15 and 10, and I also had my first boy, but sadly, he didn’t make the journey. So if you happen to come across him, could you give him a hug for me and let him know that Mommy misses him? I will eventually see him soon. Since then, I added two more stepdaughters after I got remarried; they are 9 and 8. They are so adorable, Grandma! The littlest one adores me to death. She still calls me by my name, but that’s okay. It doesn’t bother me. She loves to play dress-up with me, cover herself in makeup, or just have fun tickling and gobbling each other at times.
By the way, Grandma, if you’ve been watching, can you believe your great-granddaughter is now getting ready for her journey to high school? I wish you had the chance to meet her. She’s been having struggles with her studies and trying to figure out what she wants to do moving forward. But Mom, Dad, and I, even though she doesn’t always make things easy for us, are getting by.
If you’re wondering about your other grandson, I know you were concerned about him. Well, Eddie is doing well. He’s been growing every day and will be turning 39 this year. Can you believe that? He still looks like Dad every day, but he is still the bright, energetic person you remembered. Dad, on the other hand, has been struggling a bit lately, trying to do everything he can for us. But Grandma, I know you’re in our hearts, and there isn’t a moment that goes by that we don’t wish you were back here with us. I know for sure that if you were here, you wouldn’t approve of how everything has been going since you made your trip.
Before I go, I wanted to let you know that even though I don’t speak for the family, I’m sorry that I haven’t had the time to come back and visit you since my last trip. With everything that has been going on here lately, I just haven’t had a way to pull it off. But I hope you are staying safe up there and that they are taking care of you until we are reunited.
I love you, Grandma Allen.
Signed,
Your granddaughter,
Samantha.

In the night, shivers start to flee through the surface.
The warmth in the atmosphere begins to boil as the surface cracks.
As the time pulses through the air, tension erupts, and the river floods.
Without a breath to grasp on to, the steam burns as the foundation begins to shake.
As the reins begin to tighten, the inner circle keeps closing up more and more.
Holding on piece by piece, time has its way when the doors will finally reach it’s course.

A stormy night, awake all night,
Noone around, not a soul in sight.

The silence creeps, the darkness seeps,
Only the sun and the dead sleep.

A forgotten soul, his story untold,
Wonders where the years did go?

Gone so fast, thankfully memories last,
Nostalgic when thinking of old days passed.

A soul so old, her story so cold,
Wonders how things will unfold.

A deafening silence, foreshadows defiance,
Thoughts of peace instead of violence.

2 narcotics, used without logic,
To anyone else it would seem psychotic.

These drugs don’t heal, they only steal,
Your life, emotions, and all things that feel.

2 twisted tales, all drugs inhaled,
Down one of life’s f*cked up trails.

A forgotten soul, a soul so old,
Paths have crossed, but will they hold?

It’s lonely in behind these bars,

It’s dark even during the day.

Trying to keep my mindset free,

But my thoughts are led astray.

I listen to my inner voice,

Because that’s the one that’s wise.

I am my own worst enemy,

When that voice starts telling lies.

I’m left with myself to wonder,

Just when will I get out?

My sentence should be over soon,

Life clouds my mind with doubt.

This is the loneliest age to be kind,
To stand with your heart wide-open, entwined.
While the world walks past with their eyes sunk low,
Too busy, too broken, too fearful to know.

That the good man waits in the quiet and cold,
His virtue’s like armor, his love growing old.
They call him naive, the call him too soft,
Yet they push him away and tell him to f*ck off.

There’s no thoughts of compassion, of standing apart,
Yet he carries his decency deep in his heart.
The cruel are rewarded, the liars adored,
While the good man is doubted, blatantly ignored.

He opens his doors, yet few step inside,
He speaks with his truth, but they think it’s a lie.
For the world wants the flash, the fury, the noise,
Not the steady, the gentle, voices that do not destroy.

So he walks through the crowds like a ghost in the light,
Too solid for shadow’s, too pure for the night.
Oh, what’s the wage of a man who stays true?
A handful of memories, a love far too few.

But the good man remains, though the age turns away,
A relic of honor, in the ruins of today

Dear Addiction:
Back in the day, off the wagon I fell,
You found me first, unbroken, compelled.
You painted my dreams with colors so bright,
And wrapped me in velvet, shadowing my sight.
With every encounter, I lost track of the time,
Chasing your high, commiting your crimes.
An embrace that felt warm, yet so cold at its core,
A sweet sirens call that I couldn’t ignore.
But with each puff, with every high,
A short-lived happiness, followed with a goodbye.
You crept in like fog, obscuring the light,
Turning my days, into sleepless nights.
You promised me solace, a refuge so sweet,
But left me with ashes of shattered defeat.
With trembling hands, I write this plea,
To break the chains, and set me free.
So here in this letter, I wrestle with truth,
The cost of your presence, the theft of my youth.
Though parting is painful, a wound can be sewn,
I’ll reclaim my old soul, and for now, it is home.

Yours no longer,
A soul setting free.

In this life, I walk alone,
My heart’s grown heavy, made of stone.
My longing eyes, search for a sign,
But solitude is my only design.
Whispers in my mind, echoes of dread,
My soul feels heavy, as if it’s made of lead.
In silent tears, my fate I’ll sever,
Convinced I’m going to be alone forever.
Lost in a world that fails to see,
My aching heart, my silent plea.
Each day a battle, each night a war,
Another year passes, and then one more.
Destiny’s grip, has me locked in chains,
Binding me to this neverending pain.
Any smidge of hope, is a distant dream,
An endless nightmare, so it seems.
So alone I walk, my burden heavy,
Yearning for a touch, I’m forever ready.
But fates cold hand is a relentless giver,
Condemning me to be alone forever.

Can I dig myself out,
Of this hole I’ve made?
No more tricks up my sleeve,
All my cards are played.
Can I find the answers,
In this day and age?
I’ve look outside, I’ve looked within,
I’ve turned through every page.
What does it mean to be free,
When I walk these streets alone?
I am free to go nowhere,
Because that nowhere is my home.
Where will this life take me,
Being so lost and lonely?
I walk through life so blindly,
I’ve never really known me.

As temperatures rise beneath the stars’ bright glow,
Chatter dances softly, carried by the flow.
The night wraps around as the skies gently close,
And the insects awaken, their symphony flows.

In the winds they resonate, a melody sweet,
Nature’s quiet chorus, a nocturnal beat.
With every soft flutter, their presence ignites,
The magic of evening, where music delights.

So let the night linger, let the breezes play,
In this world of whispers, where dreams drift away.
Under the watchful stars, as the darkness unfolds,
The night breathes its secrets, and a story is told.

A woman sits with a blanket to bear. She sits and sighs, wondering if the depression is ever going to end. She ran out of her medicine and had no way to replace it. Her impacting bubbles escaped her unsettling mind. She couldn’t figure out how to keep everything going around her in check. As the space fills with time, she asks herself many questions and writes down ideas, but the more she tries, the more she feels like everything has been tried and worn out with no one listening and no one wants to find a way to come together to help.

Your absence overshadowed
your love for us girls.
Advertised unhealthy worthiness.
Your assumption of being our first love
was overturned by your emotional negligence.
Made for weak understandings amongst our future relationships.
Your silent treatment of handling situations overhyped how mature your stance stood.
Taught us avoidance amongst stressful encounters as adults.
Your upbringing outshined your ability to father two beautiful smart girls.
Left those two women to raise themselves together.
Your title of father can describe so much yet the title dad fits better.
Handed out so little with all you had.

Dear Unsealers,

It’s the third Sunday in June.

At the halfway point of the month, it’s Father’s Day.

I hope that all the fatherly figures from my dad on down the line have a wonderful day. And everyone has a wonderful Sunday.

I’ve added a photo of my family taken after my sister’s college graduation in 2007. From left to right: my dad, sister, mom and I.

After all that, this is my Father’s Day message:

On this, the third Sunday in June
It’s a day to celebrate fathers

My dad. My friend’s dads.
My friends who are dads themselves. Dad’s to be. New dads.

All the fatherly figures
Grandfathers. Stepfathers. Uncles.

With arms held aloft
For those who have difficulty celebrating this day

And a toast in memory
To the fatherly figures who are no longer with us

I can’t thank my dad enough
For being a pillar of my life
Through so many challenging days
If not for him, I don’t rock n roll

From me to you, the world over
A Happy Father’s Day to all!

one word says it all
one word has the power to touch or call
one word can make or break
one word
which one will you choose
which one word will you use
one word
the one word i choose is
love

You’ve changed.
No. I took charge of my life.
I shed years of
blackness from my life.
Decades of overcast emotions
from my heart.
Years of caused neglect
from my nervous system.
Decades of tape marks
amongst my voice.
I did not change.
I found me!

Dear Mental Health,

I wanted to reach out and ask, “Do you exist?” Growing up, I experienced difficulties in school, and I understand that not everyone grasps things right away. But why did you have to bring us the gift of different emotions?

I know that these illnesses, as you refer to them, affect everyone, but do they come in different categories? Are they randomly assigned to each person out there? These are questions I’m eager to understand, but perhaps that’s the mystery, isn’t it? Why are some of us chosen to face these challenges? I never asked for them, and I’ve always wondered if I could have been given different conditions. Perhaps that would have led to a different life for me—who knows?

Thank you for considering my thoughts.

“As night falls, the sounds gradually fade into complete silence. The stars emerge as the clouds above drift off to sleep, while fireflies glow gently in the dark sky. As the countdown to dawn begins, the night will give way to light, making room for a new day.”

Darkness falls with the sounding booms as a gentle breeze fills the house with coolness. The nighttime welcomes the aroma of fresh food being made, while the soothing purrs vibrate through the house. As the sky descends, light shines on the shadows, and the insects make their music known.

In a hot box mobile home, where the sunlight gleamed,
Lived a woman named Michelle, who often daydreamed.
With her coffee in hand and a laptop on her lap,
She was lost in a tale, in a wonderful nap.

But just when she sighed, “This is bliss, oh so nice!”
A spider appeared, oh so crafty and spry.
He danced on a blanket, did a jig on the floor,
And Michelle, in surprise, dropped her laptop — what a fall!

“Hey there, my friend, can’t you see I’m engrossed?
Your eight-legged antics, quite frankly, I loathe!”
But the spider just winked and performed a grand leap,
As Michelle tried to shoo him, her coffee took a steep.

It tipped and it splashed, oh, what a disaster!
Her dream turned to chaos, and the silence unraveled faster.
“Why must you interrupt my serene little life?
I was cleaning the coffee, not dodging a spill!”

The spider just chuckled, with a mischievous grin,
“I thought you’d enjoy a bit of a spin!
Life’s too short for quiet; let’s mix it up a bit,
Wouldn’t you rather laugh than just sit and sit?”

So Michelle took a breath, bit back her frown,
And decided to jump from her eight-legged clown.
The laptop flew on the couch, oh, what a sight,
A woman and a spider, escaping by flight.

Now, whenever she prepares her laptop, with her coffee in hand,
She glances around for that arachnid friend.
For some time it seems, in our quietest space,
A little interruption can bring entertainment wherever you go!

In the quiet moments of creativity, you might find yourself staring at a screen, feeling a sense of longing for inspiration that seems just out of reach. It’s tough when those blocks wrap around your thoughts like a heavy fog. You look around your space—a unique puzzle made up of health, hygiene, entertainment, food, and drama—and you know there’s a wealth of ideas waiting to unfold.

But when the spark dims and the muse veers away, it can be disheartening. You wonder what forms you can explore to break free from that barrier and reignite your passion. It’s okay to feel stuck; it happens to all of us. Remember, even in those still moments when creativity seems distant, the potential for new ideas is always there, patiently waiting for you to let it in. It brings out more ideas when the block evades your space. Everything around you is like a puzzle separated into categories: health, hygiene, entertainment, food, and drama. There’s a wealth of creativity surrounding you, but when the inspiration runs out, what forms can you use to break the barrier?