Words of an Endless Attempt

There are so many things I want to vent about, so many issues I want to say something about and yet…somehow, like a spoon stuck in a thick kidney bean casserole, I can’t seem to stir things up at all. Not at all, I am frozen and sort of stoned in the moment, as if I am somehow incapable of doing things that I once found so easy to do…a block. I need a laxative for my creativity, something to shit out the shit then flush it down the pain drain so my system is cleansed, again pure to pursue life, liberty and love.

It’s days later than it was before and I’m not much closer to being any further down the road, but day by day and moment by movement I grow old with the grace of God.  It’s not that I complain but the main thing is, I is who I is and there ain’t much more than that…except this; I have always thought, in the back of my mind, I’m a hero. I have often thought that world was unkind, but I’m a hero. I can’t explain away the pain we each feel, but sometimes it’s the only thing we have in common. Pain and loneliness. Not everybody gets love or joy or bliss of life; some get totally shafted, their life bleeds on the edge of a knife, they suffer slings and arrows and grief and strife. They are impaled on the most deadly of sins but often are spared days like today.

What the f*** am I f***ing thinking?