I woke up in tears. It started with a thought, then a tear it two, then crying, then sobbing, then uncontrollable weeping. What I thought was love wasn't. What I dream isn't. What I want is something that I can't have. My tears are dropping all over. On the counter, on my food, on my floor, on myself. Paper towels to blow my nose, my fingers wipe my tears but they keep coming. The scenes won't stop, they repeat, the make me cry again, harder than before. I cry, I cry, I keep crying. I know when I stop, nothing will have changed. Nothing. I be back at it soon, I'm sure of it. My pain runs deep. Who cares. Someone does, I know they do, someone somewhere cares and wants to me and will love me, the whole broken me. I like me, and love me some times. I know I do my best to project good and kind thoughts and actions. I know I have. I remain in conflict about why my love falls short. My evil is bubbling, it's right there, asking me to do things, stupid things that amount to NOTHING. I will not conform, I refuse to engage, I will not perform. I will not go along to get along. I will find the good. I will remain in the spirit of good, I will remember that, I have always did my best, I tried my best to help, I did everything I could to share, I know I'm not perfect, I know I'm glad to know I'm flawed, that I have room to improve. The tears are back, more now than ever. They will not stop marching, a battalion of water torn soldiers, ready for war. Do you hear the thud, the drops are drumming, the band is playing my song, the Battle Cry. An army of one. A lone surviver from an old era. A relic. Me. A sad, shy boy, that woke up an older man stuck in a body I don't recognize, with a new mind, a train of thought. I see the old me, I reach for him, but the young me is too busy, he's living his life, he ignores the old version, plus he's sleep walking. I want to kick his young ass, but he's so fast, he slips right by me, right through me, does not even notice me, he won't hear a word, I'm screaming right at him, he's laughing with his friends. I realize I'm a ghost, a old host, just here, looking at my young dumb self, a twin, a jealous old fool. More tears to come. That's youth for you, invincible, no fear. There he goes, the young me on another failed adventure, I'm trying to warn him, as he is leaving off to a half as plan that will give him no results. As he walks away, he looks back for a brief second, a glance in my direction, as if looking right at me, did hear hear me, does he see me? No. He is looking back to make sure he didn't forget something, damn. You forgetting me. Take me with you, I'll help guide you, I see what you don't, I have lived a lifetime and want to help to avoid the disaster you are about to get into. That one second glance, was our connection, and one more second later, the door closes. He's off to the races. Guess I'll wait for him, the younger me to create the pain I'll cry about, he'll do it I'm sure, with his half thought out plan, that leads to no where. Another moment yet to add to a chapter of failure, and more ammunition for the eventual sobbing old ass man to cry about. He'll be home, he'll climb in the bed, into his old body when he finishes destroying his future with that plan, I'll lay here, I'll wait. He'll climb in me, and think it's sleep, but when we wake up, old together, and sad, he'll think it was all a dream, but buddy these tears are real and you created them. WELCOME HOME.
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