I Don't Erase the Voicemail Message

nor do I take down the number he leaves. The old man that haunts me through the past. Well, he doesn't haunt me anymore but he lingers in my muscle memory. He hangs heavy like a ghost turned to dust in the corners of a room I just can't keep up with. I make poor choices about how to use my time and some tasks I can never get to. But I wonder what he wants. I had, until I heard his voice, regarded him as near dead (as in absent from my reality) as he could get without really being dead. I sense his mortality. It pinches my nostril...sour, old, fungal.

The Seasaon is Changing

The season is changing and I feel the gravitational pull has shifted us further off kilter. The planet has veered more off course as we cruelly and most certainly careen around the curves of our collision course. Priorities have shifted and we are bound and determined to get to hell in a hand basket as recklessly as we can. Technology takes over we have become so emotionally dumbed down -- controlled by IQ, not by heart, and no one is safe. And the worst demons are inside the walls of the well protected, where it appears no one is home, because they are punch drunk and overfed on their own illusion. Yet, they get to run the world. All this, as winter is folding in on itself so that it can erupt beautifully into spring. I am boggled by it all.