There is sudden deflation.
I am not self-pity.
Empty regret
that I’m not getting
what I want.
Empty when not definable.
Sit and chew on emotions
Slowly, thirty times per bite.
Laugh at the trifles
that seem to derail me.
There are competing interests.
Mine aren’t a big deal.
Depression, Isolation, Meditation, Poems, Poetry, recovery, Resistance, Seeking God, Spirituality
This entry was posted on February 29, 2012, 10:16 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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#1 by Carl D'Agostino on March 1, 2012 - 4:38 am
Mine aren’t a big deal.
The ability to see this helps us crawl out of the darkness. But if the needed ladder is absent and the electricity is off – well right back where I started. Clean and sober 10 years on Mar 3 ! More freedom than the Bill of Rights could ever imagine.
#2 by Carl on March 6, 2012 - 6:45 pm
10 Years!!! Happy Birthday, big time! Freedom, that’s what we want!