I was grieving for the loss; it’s clear Your love was a part gift, part theft A last farewell hug on a sinking pier A carousel that has no children left
Then I laid there among the carrion Thinking its flesh would then flight I’m the passenger with no carry on I’m no stranger to strife’s oversight
A guessing still messing me around As I’m always lost and never found Itchy, homesick in blues hometown Chasing a break and clues to perish
Shouting prayers from their religion A blind shot at glory. A fair decision But, you belonged somewhere else Beyond the sum of care for yourself
I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...
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