I worked above, maybe below

To see the blood and flow

Without a doubt I cast trust aside

But it begins to heal

I’ve got a week to make things right,

Wether I can or not,

I see there’s a good 275 between

But did it kid you lot

June 8, 2018. 3:06:00 PM ET.
I found myself in a space I had been several times prior. There was a pool to the right, a staircase to the left, and lofty ceilings to enclose the space that I had endeavored to sit and work at for hours on end just this Tuesday.
Today the pool was quiet, and families were gathering nearby to discuss things that had no relevance to me – thankfully. I felt secluded but publicly deluded – is that a good thing, I thought for a fraction, millisecond, nanosecond – perchance my thoughts would escape me for longer than a moment’s time.

I had gathered to discuss hope. Lottery has it that only one in a million will win more than a million, and I have a ticket to the draw. Didn’t we all win a draw one time – not one of cards or guns, but one where we all were successfully competitive enough to win a multi-cellular space on this planet? The sperm and egg are such a small part of who we are, but they seem to take precedence over what we will accomplish depending on who you ask or who you even view. The same second it takes to generate a thought, is the same amount of time it takes to generate an interest, a smile, or a full conversational history of who we might seek to be. I’m talking about dating.
Not that I am dating – in fact, I’ve purposely rather avoided the subject for the better half of the last 10 years, aside from a few instances where I managed to fall into something I wasn’t sure I was really wanting or ready for. Mostly because I always remembered to screw it up just as things were getting comfortable or good. It’s curious how that happens – perhaps it was the other party – who will take the blame? Should I or shouldn’t I. That’s for another day.
The only thing I really wanted to do today was sit and complete a few thoughts on how the week progressed without the aid of the psychological warfare of medical professionals this week. Monday and Tuesday are so far away now that I practically don’t remember them. I think I had a good day on Tuesday; yes. I did because that was the day I received my first payment from the government for being so unbeknowingly outted from my work now a month and a half ago.
We said we would discuss hope, however.
Hopefully, things are going okay for you today. From the guise of a literal computer screen, it’s hard to tell what you might be feeling as you read this. As the words could only relate in a way that I don’t have the connection to experience. And you can’t really call me – I would probably dodge the call – doesn’t everyone? It seems that the more I want to reach out to you or other people the less I really want to be reached. It’s the bubble of secrecy, the fact that I don’t want to demonstrate anything I’d have to account for. Here’s a truth though. Hope is eternal because we live through it every day. We wake up with either a good feeling, a subtle disappointment, or something we can’t explain. The task during the day is to figure out how the day is going to serve us and the people we want to engage, or who choose to engage us. I find.
If I had a picture to describe you right now, I wouldn’t know how to frame it. I would probably take the corners off and place a soft edge around your halo, and then trim your feathers or square your jaw. It could go any which way, really.
Angels are born, angles are created, anglers are hungry, and angry doesn’t rhyme with anything.

up a storm of peace
Then fire the engine
Then did some job fairs
Then had a follow up with Sophia maybe it will go well like I want to change meds maybe just off the injection it’s causing me time stress
Then I call helpnline in morning afternoon I call grandma and then night eat and work on music choices for tomorrow and then game for 4 hours and sleep at 3am
The Vanessa will call in a delirium but happy and ill want to smoke no I don’t smoke sorry but do you want my leftovers?
I will eat some toast and go for a walk to the store for ice cream. But I’ll get an energy drink instead and double back to home
Regretfully the craving comes and then I ask Vanessa for some help online but then I panic and take my meds
Afterwards I do some exercise with weight and go back to the gym and mastubate but have some trouble wanting to be perfect and read the Bible
Then I cry a little but feel better and go through some mood shift and call the help line
But it’s a long wait and then I need a smoke and Jesse is not open so I choose to vape. But valing is expensive so I buy some juice instead and see someone smoking and have more stress and then I choose a new store forgetting the music is playing
And then I don’t think I can stop the repeat

Let you see

The memories

The diamonds I’ve collected

Rough outside

Sparkling white

But truly I reside

In a diamond cage as well

And though it’s perfect

Sparkling too

I left it to see you

That the clock stopped at 11:04

That I was led to notice by grandma

Or that it doesn’t really bother me that this happens anymore

Or maybe it does

And that’s why I write

Who will I rely on?

Who will I trust?

If I cannot even trust myself?

Which is what I’m starting to see

That it might just be me

Am I failing thee

Green spider?

Is there anyone else in this world

But you and me?

I believe I have it rough, maybe. Am STILL having trouble at home… and we all know the biggest change I need is getting out of my head. I can’t seem to keep costs down to a minimum, and although I sometimes kind of reach out distantly to family, although I miss them, it’s a little hard to keep up with the stories and of course my nieces are the centres of attention. You should meet my sister sometime. She’s awesome.
Not sure if you’re a friend. I know you’re dating other guys, and I know we both want out of this old barracks. The caveat is that I usually need help. I get overwhelmed with changes, not to complain. Just overwhelmed and yet excited – maybe. Angels can be sometimes ruthless; thank Goodness for the Inspiring voices I hear once in a while. Getting to work is great. It would be nice to spare ourselves drama sometimes. I usually text in the early morning, and you leave me confusing voicemails. The entrance and pathways are a battlefield.

State of the situation… copycat overwhelming.

There’s a certain kind of Thanksgiving in the evenings where peace is found indoors from extremely cold temperatures outside. I find the silence rewarding, despite the odd interruption.

Why do you find challenge in hope, finding salvation in lies? They look for hope in others, and the path is just Clear for the blind fish that swim amongst us. Reading challenge brings words to light, it is based on the threat we face in change, a double set of walls that leaves 11e behind. Or is it lle. Lies and white lies make it hard to see truth. Find the dissipation in solid gold, a malleable metal for changing hearts.

Calming rides from a strange delivered package has bounce and time within. Can it? Should it not.
A kite flies with lateral direction. Schema and persona lie within. Temporal faster live. Livid. Civil. Limbic. Train?
Tongues. Deceit of heart not withstanding. Fast of mustang, Hope of helper

Hope to hope, whim to whim, a fish can sing yet also swim.

We were waiting for the bus

And across the other side

A bus was passing by

And we were inside

Today it happened too

The day I figured out

The bus takes me there

But also home to you