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I wish I could say I am doing great,…… I’m not.

I called my mom to see if she wanted to go to Target (to do for others) and heard a litany about her big toe (lol)

I spent time this morning already playing my guitar rediscovering all the things wrong with it and within it that this extremely expensive guitar was NOT to have.
Falling prey to short falls of expensive promises.

Next…..

I’ve written a letter that I am going to stick into a package for our friend in a Federal Prison out east, Sarrah, (who is she anyway? and how and why did she become so important in my life…… Jesus?)
Five Long Years behind barb’d wire walls and stone.

Next…..

In the days of my youth there would be people to play music with all day long, dreams to fulfill, dreams, dreams, dreams, jams, time to kill that gave life to living. I’d hitchhike 20 miles to a practice carrying a guitar and a book of songs/dreams…………….dreams of travel and music and getting high on dreams dreams of making it ‘big’, and in a way, I did, I did it all, but now……

Next…..

Now it’s just restless nights seeking the proper number on a bed that cost more than some cars I’ve owned,—and nightmares— not dreams, mystic memories remembering sins I’ve commited that cut into my sleep like sword blades made of harden’d sorrow, bleeding remorse for choices made that won’t be undone even within the second chance of a dream/nightmare

It’s not Monday, it’s selfpityday, my bad!
It’s the unwillingness to meet my great fears and trust in a higher power, it’s looking in the mirror of selfishness and loneliness and seeing how short I fall in the calling of Christ,

Is this what it’s all come down to at 65?
A super-sized multi pack of depression?

Next…..

But Damn it Kirk, Shame will not claim me, I will not be a victim!
I am opening up here on the top of my laptop, exposing the guts of my share of the epidemic of the 20th and 21st Century.

Depression,

If I shopped, I go shopping, but I don’t shop! I fight, I fight the Blues!

Chorus
I’m so tired of Fightin’ the Blues
I’m so tired of Fighting the Blues

Tossing and Turning, My mind is Churning
Loosing the fight with the blues
Who makes these rules, I supposed to live with
And I can’t find Nobody to help me get through

Prison walls more than bars and stone
Hell can even be a fancy home
And the fight is almost over,
Sometimes I can almost hear the bell
Please tell my little boy I fought the fight so well

Chorus
I’m so tired of Fightin’ the Blues
I’m so tired of Fighting the Blues

People call me a wise guy,
Wise guys ain’t supposed to cry
They just keep fighting till the day they die
Nobody holds my hand, or even under stands
And the Dr just gives me another bottle of pills

Nobody holds my hand, or even under stands
And the doctor just gives me another bottle of pills
And the fight is almost over, some times
I can almost hear the bell
Please tell my little boy I fought the fight so well

Chorus
I’m so tired of Fightin’ the Blues
I’m so tired of Fighting the Blues

And so it goes,
another Monday-fight
to end on a high note,
This one’s for you dad!
  
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