blues

whispers outside my window. Two men sounding like a radio in the night. dog barks echo in the distance. The cicadas keep a constant buzzz in the air, cicadas nesting all around till they crawl their way out of the ground. a 7 year hiatus, gimme a break, thats a fable. I need a ciggarette. I need a vacation. laying down listening to the sounds of the night i soak up the summer cool air. my high keeping me thinking and relaxed, ahhhhhhh. Sometimes this world is too much. Too much work and hassle and yelling and beeping and money and traffic and blah blah blah blah, too much. its hard to find the good sometimes. I remind myself to be grateful, but am i happy? thats the question. where am i happy? where do i belong? maybe its somewhere ive never been before. the constant tugg and pull from the world. begging me to come out and play. Chicago is too much. This city kicks my ass, its too rough, too bulsterous, too windy and cold, and yet there is something special here. Something i guess you cant get anywhere else. something uniquely gorgeous. and so this is home. sweet home chicago. givin me the blues. this is it 

    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
 

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Start again 

   
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
   
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
   
    
   
 

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In the thicke of it

   
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
 

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Learning to love again 

life. Is full of miracles. I’ve found the miracle of loving thyself most of all important. When I remember that, loving others doesn’t feel so strained. Loving myself gives me ease and relief and , well, love.  

    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
   

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Ac

there is too much and so little whirling away in my brain I feel as if I might implode. So much and too little. My heart aches with overwhelming desire to learn to grow to be to do, but that I am here now, stops me dead. How can I fly with shoes made of lead? Plodding away day by day whithering away little by little to nothing. I need an ocean to wash away my troubles and clear my thick head. So much beauty and so much hate and so much jealousy I can’t stay in my skin. If only I were a butterfly and I could flutter away in the wind. Or a big fish to dive deep in the darkest waters of the sea. My worke my soul my love fruitless in its ambition.  It’s too hott and the day won’t quit.

    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
   

   
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
   

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To be or not to be

  

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Drumb

i am a drumber.  I don’t know how to make my dreammes come true. Because I am dumb. 

    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
  

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