Summer’s Dog Days Of The Forgone

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Summer’s dog days of the forgone
Experiencing a crisis of fate
Sharpening our wits on bathtub gin
Wondering if it’s worth the effort to curate

Trying To Overcome An Existential Crisis

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Trying to overcome an existential crisis
Harking back to those foundational years
Emerging out of my own wounded shadow
Striving headlong into those ancient fears
Transitionally limping along these days
But my injuries aren’t those to be seen
Nor the stretch marks upon my soul
Yearning for the notion of becoming clean
Throughout it all, forever fond of the Blonde
Woman, hold me close to your breast
Tell me this life is going to be all right
That together, entangled; we’ll always be blessed

I Cannot Connect The Dots

I cannot connect the dots
Like I used to
My mind goes blank
Far too easily
& I wonder
If this was really
The life
For me