The universe has a way of sending words into my mind and then to my pen (quite literally I scrawl in journals I have stashed every which where).  The inspiration today is not so inspiring (Anthony Bourdain, a fellow New Jersey traveler).  Sure, we all will buy the farm at some point but somehow the prospect (and specter) of suicide deadens even a beautiful spring day.  Spring should be the time of blossoms not burial.

6.8.2018
suicide
the right to die
on your own time
but what about those
you leave behind

6.8.2018
springtime
for blossoms not burials
but for you my friend
you decided
this is the end
so hope at least
the peace you seek
is yours to grasp
to ever last

6.8.2018
demons in the rear view mirror
much closer
than they appear

Music… Boa “Rain”