100% Cranberry Juice, bottled. | No Fruit Cocktail.

Each sip a reminder

to old honky tonks

and the elder presence

of almighty grace

to know my locks

are still jet black

and old bullies have gone silver

into grandparents

or mothers and fathers

or lonely old souls that chose to do it alone

and I’m doing it again.

Proof,

when you notice me.

Looking like stalls,

when the rotary was

advanced technology.

It’s all so different now.

---

I rather beg than forgive.

I’ve forgiven myself so I forgave every other soul before I tried for myself.

Beating the devil and not ending up at the end of the bottle but right in my niche.

Somewhere forgiven

and unabiding

in yuletide for Creation.

And somewhere in that,

I choose to function

and remain autonomy

into choosing life

and health

and

destiny

just to say,

I wanted to write about my day everyday since I’ve had em

And now I do it almost everyday.

Giving myself what I need

with no greed,

just abundant in the fact

I really have the feeling to write all the time.

Even in keys looking like I’m texting a letter, I suppose I am.

The Sender sounded in resilience, I am who I am and that’s just the ordinary part.

I’m still seeking extraordinary.