Each month, write a new collection.
Jails, institutions and death.What a way to appreciate the life you are a part of.Eight months in the Orange County jailNo rights no freedomsNo windows.You surrender your sense of self just to keep your sanity.I'm not exaggerating.Jails mixed with a few visits to the psych ward And now my view of the small things is changed.The smells of the street The clouds that my head used to occupy.Mental hospitals seem to buzz in the same way. Filled with poor lost souls who have forgotten how to be normal,And "doctors" who don't give a shit.Loss, trauma, tragedy, and the precious gift of a child.All have drastically changed me.Stolen what was left of my innocence.And yet, I sit here today,More grateful and serene than ever.This road I've taken to find my happinessHas been uniquely paved.
The violin drifted toward HeavenIts lonely voice reaching Reaching for GodThe melody penetrated my very beingIts haunting tune searching Searching my soulThe music filled the church raftersIts perfect meaning liftingLifting my spiritThe feather-like tune opened my eyesIts perfect joy showingShowing me GraceThe violin silenced my fearsIts loving touch holdingHolding my heart
Dreams splinterSoft Fur settles on my neck Purr drum beats