Jack’s Apartment (Part 1)

Jack’s Apartment

by Thadd Presley

Jack’s first day in the apartment was a new lease on life. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do first. But it was an answer to his prayers, and, yes, Jack was now a praying man. God wasn’t always on constant call when it came to Jack’s old life. However, since he began his life after drugs, he was in constant communication with the man upstairs. But, this was more than Jack could have asked for. He never knew gigs like this existed. The idea of “cup runneth over” truly had a meaning now, and Jack felt like a human being for the first time in years.

But, Jack was logical. He knew that it wasn’t all God. Jack owed a special thanks to Adam, the man he met while in the county rehab.

Adam was a preacher of sorts, who spent time with addicts and gave them hope. But Adam was much more than a counselor to Jack. Adam was a guiding light and a mentor. He helped Jack and gave him a chance to work at the church and prove himself as a carpenter, which had been instrumental in getting the job at the apartment complex.

He thanked Adam as he sat alone for the first time in a long time, with his dinner on his lap, and thanked God for his apartment, which was on the fourth floor of the Wartzburg Building. It was only a small, cheap, four-room cracker box, but he lifted his head toward the roof, as if he could see into heaven, and asked God to come into his home. It was a quick prayer, just something to bless his food and to invite good spirits to his new place. But he knew it was important, because he didn’t want to forget about all the good things that had been happening to him lately, nor did he want to forget what drugs had done to him.

Before he left the rehab center, he thought that he’d be happy out in the real world, away from the clinic and all the church meetings, away from all the drug addicts and the whiners. But, he wasn’t. Over time, he’d come to like working for the church and he liked the few friends he’d made while living at the halfway house. He liked that his life was on a new path, but he was more afraid everyday. Afraid that he’ d mess everything up now that temptation was at every turn.

What he felt then was suffocation. Anytime he thought about running into old friends or what he was going to do if he started wanting a hit, a panic quickly closed in on him and crushed his goodness. His ideas of a good life and of the spirit who he’d prayed for began to wilt as if something didn’t want him to have a good, new life.

He just felt so alone.

The apartment he picked out on the fourth floor had a small table in the main living room, where he sat with his macaroni. On his left was a doorway to the only bedroom, which was really small, and beside that, a door opened onto the bathroom. There was a fourth room, but it was locked and so far had been inaccessible. He had keys to all the rooms on the fourth floor since part of his rent was going to be repair work, but none of the keys opened this door. The lock was older, probably left over from a century before, and because it was his first day in the apartment, he didn’t want to be a pain to the landlady, especially if it meant she would have to drive all the way back into the city and open it herself. She would be back in a few days to inspect the work he’ d be doing and make sure he was as good a carpenter as Adam said. He could wait and ask her about the room then.

For a moment, with food paused in mid flight to his mouth, he thought about when he’d met her. She was younger than he’d imagined when Adam told him about her, and she was beautiful. She asked him questions about his past and where he used to work. She reminded him that the floor had not been used for thirty years, so he would have to wear a mask when he worked.

“Who knows what all is considered toxic these days. The paint is lead based, I know that for sure; the tile has asbestos in it, as does the insulation and ceiling tiles, and probably there would be more than that. Do you understand that you have to wear the mask? It is very important.”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Legally, no one can live on the fourth floor yet, but since Adam has been so good to us in the past, I’ve decided to make an exception. What we need to do is get your room up to code and as close to livable as fast as we can, both for your health and in case of any problems we might have with the inspectors.”

“I understand. I’ll start in the apartment and work my way into other areas.”

Then came the question he knew was loaded. This was where she would decide everything. “So how long do you think it will take to do the entire job. I mean, the floors, the doors, the trim and painting, we have to replace the ceiling and there will be more, lots more, when we get into it deeper?”

She smiled when he said, “four months should get us to a good point. After that we will know exactly where we stand.”

“I’ll know where we stand in one week, Mr. Solsbury. I want to start renting that floor as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am. Four months is just my guess right now.”

They talked while they signed the last documents, which explained that he would not owe rent for the months he worked, but rules came with the room. No drinking or parties were allowed and no one could live with him. No one can be on the fourth floor, except Adam of course. And, by signing and shaking her thin hand, he became the sole tenant of the fourth floor. He felt like Donald Trump that day. He had an entire floor to himself.

He thought of all this while he ate in silence. With no television or radio, the feeling of loneliness had a tendency grew out of hand, and he found himself thinking of Caroline. He’d never felt so alone in his life, not even when his mother died. Since after high school, he always lived on his own and loved the solitude he had when he wanted or needed it. But since Caroline’s overdose, he’d found a real need for companionship and love. He hated himself for getting her hooked on pain killers and showing her how to shoot up. Her death was his fault; there was no doubt of that. It was as if he killed her the day he met her.

An hour later, having eaten what he could of the cold pasta, he was laying on the old couch, which looked as if it had been here through the thirty years of abandonment, half asleep thinking of Caroline and what his life would be like if she hadn’t died, whether or not he would have gone to rehab. It was her death that brought the police and the reality of drug use to his life. The more he thought about Caroline and what he did to her, the more he thought about whether death did for him. She never got a second chance like he did; she never got to learn a lesson. All she got was death, and he gave it to her in a needle.

He dozed and dozed…then he dreamed.

Jack.

A high pitched, hollow voice filled the room. It seemed to shake his entire being. He opened his eyes, completely sitting up, and felt for his phone. He’d set it on vibrate days ago and hadn’t changed it. He looked around the room, knowing he’d heard something.

No… someone, he told himself. It was a voice. He listened harder, trying to hear his neighbors below. He listened for footsteps in the hallway. Maybe it was someone in the stairwell and their voice had traveled. His eyes stopped on the locked door. He looked away, but somehow he could keep them from going back. The door was actually pulling his eyes to it. He felt panic beginning to set up in his muscles and chest. It would become hard to breathe, but he had to stay calm.

“Dude, calm down,” he said aloud. “It was a dream.”

He shivered. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so rattled. The sound of his voice calmed his nerves a bit, but he knew sleep wouldn’t return. He could only sit there and look at the door.

After a long while of sitting in the red gloom of the heater’s glow listening to the silence, he knew a trip to the bathroom was in order before sleep would return. He wasn’t old by any means, but the drugs had done their worst to his system. He knew he wouldn’t make it the entire night without a pit stop.

It took another five minutes and mighty strong convincing from his bladder to get him to leave the warmth of the heater. The gas on the fourth floor was turned off, so the only warm room in the apartment was the living room, and only in the vicinity of the heater.

He tested the floor with his bare feet and found it absolutely freezing. But it had to be done; there was no stopping nature. In the old days he would have used a bottle and tossed it in the morning, but he didn’t have a bottle, nor did he feel like living that way. After giving up everything in his pursuit to live a new life, such things now seemed out of character and would lead him right back to the past. He felt that a new life demanded new actions.

He crossed the room, only thinking of his urinary duties, when he heard the high-pitched, quick voice again, like the snap of a rubber band.

Jack.

Hearing the voice again and being awake when he heard it shook him to his bones. A bit of pee squirted down his leg and he had to squeeze everything together so he didn’t piss himself completely.

He walked faster and felt the burning urgency.

That voice was not his imagination, he nervously realized. “You heard that with your own ears,” he told himself in a whisper, “and it called your name.”

He turned and looked at the locked door.

Fear tried to grip him, but he fought it. He no longer felt alone, but he couldn’t let whatever it was scare him out of his apartment. What would Adam think if he called and said he couldn’t stay in the apartment because he was scared? He smiled in spite of himself, thinking how easy it was to frighten yourself. How many times did he do it as a child? Every night? Whether it was something under the bed or in the closet, something always seemed to be out to get him. And as he got older, the monsters just got scarier and more dangerous. A simple dream or a spooky moment had a way of sending the blackest fear upon him. It was worse now, since Caroline.

Help us, Jack.

This time he jumped hard enough for his feet to leave the floor. It was louder, closer, and there was absolutely no denying that the voice came from behind the locked door.

With a flick of his hand, the light in the bathroom broke the darkness, and he saw himself in the mirror. He didn’t like the look in his eyes and looked away. He turned on the water. It was as cold as he knew it would be.

As he waited to see if the water would get warm, he tried to push the idea of ghosts away. But, there was no mistaking that he’d heard the voice. It called to him three times.

The fear forced its way into his mind.

He let the water run and listened as it gurgled down the pipes. If it started to run red, he warned himself that it would only be rust. Not blood. That only happened in movies. Old pipes sometimes have rust in them.
The urgency of getting to the bathroom was gone, replaced with fright.

The Fall by Thadd Presley

The Fall

 

by Thadd Presley

He glanced over the edge, not knowing that below
his emptiness was the truth. He’d always been alone.
He looked across the desert trying to imagine his fall.
The beautiful, blue horizon reminded him that love wasn’t all.
Many times over the last year, when love came near
he embraced the future, saying he could face all of his fears
about coming out and letting his family know
tell them who he wanted to love, so he could let his love be shown.
He’s already heard the hurtful words. They all cut deep, to the bone.
How could tear his family apart and destroy his childhood home?
Feelings of loss, betrayal, remorse, and disgust
were made worse by the thoughts of abandonment and distrust.

How? – he asked himself. How could you do this to them?
They love you!! God, you’re nothing but filthy fucking trash.
This selfishness will ruin everything you touch,
and turn your families life into dust and ash.

They all see through you! It’s obvious what you are.
Why would they be surprised to hear it repeated in your voice?
They’ve said it themselves.  “He’s always been a blip on my Gaydar.”
“God didn’t make him a fag, being that way is his own choice.”

His uncle told his dad on his eleventh Christmas. “He’s a damn fancy boy.”
An Ass-tronant, a Butt-Pirate, a Bum-hole Engineer,
A Fudge packer, a stinking cockstar, I bet you’re really embarrassed by him.
A Fairy, a flamer, for a son. You know his momma turned him queer.

He’s a limp wristed, Jobby Jabber, a butt rustling-shit stabber
A girly boy, Nancy Man, fancy-pants, Cock-struction worker
A Browine King, Anus Assassin,and faggot ass dick grabber
Even his Dad called him a shit smelling Goober Jerker.

His mother found out on her own.
There  was nothing to hide. He couldn’t have lied if I tried.
His mother had knew since day one.
But when he admitted it,  she actually looked surprised.

We are through with you, she said, but you know I love you.
I want you to be happy, son, but going against God and nature is not the way
You’re dad doesn’t want you here anymore!
He’s tried for so long, but his heart, you know We can’t make that mistake!

And now you want to turn me away?
You’d really turn me out?
You’ve known this longer than anyone.
I thought I could count on you to help them love me.
But it’s too late. Everything has wilted and gone dreadfully wrong.
I never wanted this sadness to come bacl, but the end has come and gone past.
Love has no end, but how long can hate last?

He glanced over the edge, not knowing that below
his emptiness was the truth. He’d always been alone.
He looked across the desert trying to imagine his fall.
The beautiful, blue horizon reminded him that love wasn’t all.

 

The Guide

The Guide

by Thadd Presley

Perhaps; and I say this in case,
You’ve never been to, seen, or heard of the place
And, if not, just perhaps, you’d still like to go
You can get there still, by following someone who knows.

And who knows the way, and how to get there, please tell?
It’s not the one who only heard of The WAY and says all will be well.
Is there a single path? The only answer is no.
Is there a pleasant route? There’s only one way to know.

You must follow your heart, through the thoughtless crowd
And cover your ears to the loud distractions that abound.
There’ll be people pushing and friends holding you down.
They’ll see in your eyes, if you’ve got a route planned out.

And once they see that you know the way,
They’ll ask you for directions to that wonderful place.
Perhaps, just perhaps, you’ll take the extra time
To not just tell them the distance, but become their to guide.

Murder To Save A Friend (part1)

Murder to Save A Friend
(part 1)

Everything about this situation looks so plain and simple from my point of view. John needs to see it for himself, not that it matter’s who tells him, only that he finds out before it’s to late. It’s true that I see things from my own perspective which comes with a certain light that most people are blind to, but it is illuminating and many people, including my friend John, would benefit from it’s intensity, but I wouldn’t go as far as saying he has ever listened to me. He rarely takes my advice, in fact, usually going in the direction I least favor, causing hardship on himself and those who love him.

The situation is so clear and easy, as I see it, but I know I can’t  bring the subject up to John directly. I shall have to leave the task, this minor act of discretion, to my butler, a man we both adore, who is cunning and knowing, and will slip my words into John’s ear without even a hint of force or embarrassment. To say Hamish knows people would be an underestimation of his agreeable talents, to say he knows exactly the right words to use in every circumstance would be a direct hit on his powers. He is a worldly, faithful servant, not because he needs to be, because he wants to be, and he has raised me from a colicky babe into the gentleman and friend I have become today.

John loves and respects Hamish as much as I do. As my constant companion through childhood and business partner in adulthood, we have both drank from the same trough of learning, which was constantly replenished from Hamish’s well of knowledge and wisdom. As close as brothers, we’ve been through thick and thin together, and we’ve never had a bad word between us. That is, until recently.

So, it shall be Hamish who sets into motion the only possible solution to John’s miserable existence, which is to murder John’s wife and liberate my dear friend from the hell he has been subject to these last six months. Even though, as easy as it shall be, I know John will suspect me and fight tooth and nail to bring me to justice. So, to remove suspicion from myself I set my plan into motion a fortnight ago by inviting John and his wife to dinner by way of telegram while they were away in Knoxville.

Of course, they received the telegram and accepted the invitation. John replied with happy sentiments, admitting that after a week of being away with his wife he was looking forward to Hamish’s cooking, writing that she destroyed a pot of Premium Oatmeal by arguing with him instead of watching the breakfast. And while John knows that his life with Rosa is not perfect, what he doesn’t realize is that it will only get worse.
So, because of my vision and from an act of love for my best friend, I have arranged an “emergency” to befall us on the road at precisely 4:45, while we are on our way from the offices to my house for dinner. A robbery will take place that will once and for all remove Rosa from John’s life.

The death will look accidental. I am sure no one will be the wiser once the excitement is over and she is found. To further confuse matters, I have elected myself to become wounded in the performance as well. I believe it will lend an air of reality to an otherwise fake event. My wounds will not be life threatening, I hope, but should be enough to remove all possible accusations from myself and place them on the thieves.

I realize that someone might look at my scheme and think I’m only being a jealous friend who has lost his playmate and will do anything to get him back, but it would be wrong to assume that. If only it possible to see what I see, why that person would volunteer for a part in my production, possibly even maneuver themselves into the position to pull the trigger and set John free by their own hand.

It is hard for me to look upon tonight without some feelings of guilt because it would not have come to this if I would have spoke up in the beginning. If only I had John’s ear and knew how to explain myself, I know I could have saved John and Rosa. But, it is too late now and to say that I knew what was awaiting John the moment we met Rosa is only admitting that I did nothing to stop it.

Frequency Shift: A Metaphysical Exchance (part 4)

Frequency Shift:
A Metaphysical Exchance
(part 4)

Magic and Miracles follow me everywhere I go. You can ask around if you don’t believe me. I’m am using the Alchemist in me to create new things. Life is an adventure designed to teach us all how to turn energy into things we need. Bad energy can be converted into good and then changed into substance. On the other side, good energy can be used for greed and other thoughtless acts which will create great future interference and struggle. This is my mantra for today: Magic and Miracles follow me everywhere I go. Magic and Miracles follow me everywhere I go.

I learned from one of my all time favorite family members a quick way to silence your thoughts. I know it sounds impossible, especially to those who understand meditation and how important it is to have control over our thoughts in times of stress, but it is not impossible. It requires asking yourself a question.

“Who a I?” Ask yourself this question honestly and you will find yourself in a truly quiet moment.

These rare moments of silence are important and hard to achieve, but through this question, asked honestly, you will find a quiet that is not artificial or forced.

Don’t be too concerned if people learn about you meditating or laugh at the idea that thoughts can really create something real. Just because they don’t think like you or value your vision doesn’t mean they won’t benefit from your quiet times. Remember that nno matter how magnificent the sun truly is, people still complain about it. What is more importantly, is that you practice this thought: how will this serve me?

How will the new information you learn from meditating, they new information you learn abobut yourself, make you into a better person?  Only you must accept who you are. 100% acceptance of who you are is the beginning of understanding how you are creating your own reality.

What did you think about when you closed you eyes to meditate?
What was the first scene you saw floating before your eyes when you tried to shut everything out?
Who’s voice did you hear first?
What did they say?
Who were they speaking to?
How did it make you feel?
What memory do you have of meditating yesterday?

These questions will help you put your thoughts in order, help you understand what is always lurking behind the scenes putting “ideas”into your head, and it’ll show you a better layout of the map you have to navigate to bring a thought you “want” to have to the front of your mind. And once you have a better idea of what is in your mind, you will have a better idea of why certain things are in your life.

Yesterday I hung out with my brother and we had a long discussion on why people act a certain way towards people. We shared personal stories and how we should interpret other people’s actions towards ourselves. We came to the conclusion that we don’t see the other person’s feelings. Instead we see their actions and hear their words, but we don’t really know what they are feeling. And this void is very important to us as people. To know what people feel is to know why they acted a certain way. So, what does our brain do in order to fill in the blank?  It replaces the unknown with a “known” and tries to figure out what the action means.

The important thing about living our lives and being the best version of ourselves we can be, is knowing that what someone else thinks doesn’t matter. What I think of myself is the most important thought we could ever have the answer to.

So ask yourself: Who am I?
Do it today when you sit own to meditate and enjoy the silence.

Frequency Shift: A Metaphysical Exchange (part 3)

Frequency Shift
A Metaphysical Exchange: Part 3

Many people have never heard that the heart’s magnetic field is 5000 times stronger than the magnetic field emitted by the brain. When I read this, I heard “Emotion is your feelings in motion” the very same day. To tell yourself “it must be now” is a good way to motivate yourself and others.  But, to feel it in your heart is 5000 times more likelu to motivate you and the people around you.

There is infinite power in NOW. When you remind yourself that you are “effortless,” you set a mark to begin knowing yourself. We all know who we are, but do we know how much energy it takes to be YOU? You are in this moment. You are you NOW. You are You Effortlessly.

From the baseline of YOU NOW, you may begin to make decisions and create the best version of yourself. It doesn’t require any effort to be you or to be present in this moment. You are here, so Relax and listen to yourself BE YOU.  Listen to your breath, listen to your thoughts. These will be two parts of yourself that you will must learn to control first.

Realize that It will not require anything to remain the way you are. The situation you are in and the person you are NOW was created before this moment and is present because of decisions you’ve already made. From this moment forward you must begin to ask yourself, “how is this assisting me in becoming the greatest version of myself.” In the beginning it will be your thoughts you must constantly question. Do not allow your thoughts to be hijacked by uncontrolled emotions. Remember your heart is much more powerful than your brain, so you have to be careful what you allow yourself to feel.

Of course I don’t mean to isolate yourself and be without emotion. I simply mean to not expose yourself to unnecessary situations. Stay away from toxic people. Dissern what is good for you. Some situations are not good to see and hear. Learn what triggers your emotions and decide accordingly. It will not take you long to notice a difference in your life, once you gain control of your thoughts and breathing.

Always remind yourself that life is about being happy and living with a passion. No one can make you happy. Only you can do that. Please, understand this does not mean others won’t make you happy because they will, but before they can lift your happiness you must have happiness inside of you. I call it the 49% rule. If you are 49% happy, no one can get you to 51%.  However, if you are 51% happy, then you can be taken to 100% happiness by another happy person.  This comes down to a statement that we should have learned in kindergarten. “Love who you are and be with others who love themselves.” In this scenario, happiness is unlimited and living NOW is effortless.

The Circus Came To Town

When I was a child, I did something terrible by not speaking up when I should have. I saw something so frightening, I was too afraid to report it. I couldn’t even tell my parents about it. It has haunted me throughout my entire life and I have been seeing her face more and more lately.

Now as an adult, I live everyday with my cowardice, knowing that I allowed the unspeakable to continue. I can never take it back, I will never live it down, but I must try to get it out of my head somehow.

 

The Circus Came to Town

by Thadd Presley

Damp, dark,
a clank, a spark
a white light,
so bright
my eyes
shut tight.

It was years before,
when I was only a boy
a circus came to town
with elephants and joy

A tent
so large
all the people in town
could come right in
and look at the clowns.

In my delight, I got lost
For my family I looked
and down a dark hallway,
I saw a little girl was took.

A thick curtain fell down,
and covered the way.
I didn’t see anything
But I heard the man say.

“Come one, come all,
Gather around ya’ll.
See the beautiful Chinese
and the Japanese dolls”

But this girl I then saw
was so skinny, so thin,
with long, blond hair
she was locked up tight
a chain under her chin.

She was scarred and so young.
She spoke up quickly,
she whispered:
“Get out of here! RUN!!!”

Her eyes were so wide,
from the shock of my sight
she shook in her cage,
and her necklace of chains

“RUN!!” She cried,
“they’ll be back again!”
Afraid for my life,
Finally I did.

I stand here now
Before the world
To tell of that place,
those chains,
and that girl.

Old Man’s Last Say

I used to write poetry everyday.  Many of the poems are collected in my book “Poetry Principia,” which I wrote as a way to teach myself new styles of poetry.  You can download the book from Amazon for 99 cents. You can find many of my poems in this blog, but I invite you to take a chance and buy the book.

The Old Man’s Last Say

by Thadd Presley

“The worms can have him, for from them he was made,”
the lady remarked as she looked on the grave
and chopped at the dirt with a long handled spade.

She had buried her husband late in the day.
“The sun is too hot, we’ll wait for the shade.
I know he will rot, but he’ll not do it today.”

He was put away quickly, with no friends there to pray,
And when it was over, I remember no-one had stayed.
“Now that he’s gone, I’ll can get married this spring
with all of his money, we can buy the best things.”

But, that wasn’t the end of what that man had to say.
The ground suddenly shook all around the grave.
A great voice rose up and declared from the clay.

“You might have succeeded in ending my days
but you’ll never outlive your hate and disgrace.
I curse you this day ’til the last breath you take
A widow you are and a widow you’ll stay,”

To a cold, whining wind, his voice then gave way
and the widow never married and wasn’t seen since that day.
I come to this hill and stand near their graves.
I remember what mother told me on her final day.

Years later, in tears, she weakly proclaimed:
“I killed your father. It was my greatest mistake.
But love will always conquer a heart filled with hate.”

P.S.
Thank you for reading. I wish you all a Happy New Year 2016.

Angels On Our Shoulders

“Angels On Our Shoulders”
by Thadd Presley

In the beginning he had two:
One told him good things
and the other spoke untrue.

He grew up with them by his side.
One told him how to be a friend,
the other how to steal and lie.

Then one day, one of his angels fell
He didn’t understand what happened,
but the other laughed, “’cause you’re in hell.”

“The Angel can’t come here, although she had tried
Throughout your life, you were told the truth,
but it’s all to late, now that you’ve died.”

The Hunger (to read)

In my last post, I wrote a Letter to Santa Claus and revealed that I love to read. It’s true that I haven’t found many new books that catch my interest lately. Perhaps, I’m getting to picky. I read everyday and write everyday.

One writer that I used to read is Bentley Little. He has a knack of writing stories that really stick in my head and I find myself cringing years later when remembering a short story or a certain line. He is a talent, no doubt.  Few other writers have made me have this reaction.

Stephen King is a true writer. He has dedicated his life to turning out novel after novel, but nothing he has ever written has stuck with me for too long.  Don’t think I haven’t read all of his books and have been thinking of reading them again. There are a few I would enjoy very much.

Another writer I absolutely was fated to find and read was Isaac Asimov. The Foundation Trilogy, the Earth books, and the Robot Series are amazing and I wouldn’t be who I am today without having discovered them.

 

 

I am leaving you with a poem titled Hunger.  Enjoy.

 

Hunger

by Thadd Presley

The last sunrise brought tears about
just as blood brings years to me now.
Put behind me my crimes,
Too long, I’ve hid  from man’s eyes
long was the distance, long was the time
’til a love returned that I enjoyed in my life
It came back to me, screaming
calling, in desperate cries

Suddenly, I needed to share it still;
to find those with thoughts and those who feel,
to tell my story and allow a clear reveal
of my obsessions and of my will
by professing my great love for words; Oh, how it will feel!!

After countless ideas, my stories have piled high
and I yearn to have but one glancing eye
to cross my pages and take into mind
the story I’ve tried my entire life to write.

I can’t do this!!
Yes, I know.

But, if I words plant my words?
What would grow?
Is it right to sow that which I don’t know?
Grow in people a cancerous growth?
Make another hunger for the page, a wretched bleak fate
Begin them toward a wretched, bleak fate
with nightmares and visions, in sleeping and wake
to which there’s no end and no way to escape.

To know what’s in me will come out,
to know every whisper escapes as a shout!!
and knowing brings me to a cold shutter,
that we’ll be judged for ever word that we utter.

It’s not what goes in my mind, but what comes out
that shows what my words could possibly sprout
and reveals myself, both inside and out
made known, everywhere and throughout.

That’s what we breath
That’s what we see
That’s what we eat
When we hunger to read.

 

 

Thank you for reading. Also, if you have a blog I will be more than happy to add it on my “other blogs” page.