qfreak69

With a 45 lying in front of me, I ponder what all my suffering in all about. Two switchblades alway lay open on the desk in front of me aload 410 stands behind the door, a 20 guage beside the door knob, Peppy, is hanging over the door. My life in full of the torments of thirty-five years of having life take my music away from me, false love has tahen my ability to complete my poems. The youngers see an ole man, but Joey was ever allow to grow up. I love my music, but have no muses to inspire me. Death is all around me, please somone give me a reason for life. The doctors have chaged my meds again, each time the depression goes deeper. They say I have to learn to say no, to the users in my life, but they don't know about the barriers inside me. My parents taught me no was not to be said, the military taught me no was not an option, even into death. Sociality says that joy and happiness are only for those who do not hold my values. God says death in not an option. Todd, the only friend I feel I have says wait, don't do antthing stupid. Women don't understand me, I find one I like, and she is aways taken. My music is all I have, but I have no one to play it with, to inspire me, to make me think of love, and happiness, and enjoy. To much, maybe to be continued.