Sometimes, you don't have it in you. The ability to write. The passion. The muse. Other times, the brain works damn hard to forget memories that the heart wants to release upon pen and paper. Scream out to the whole world for shock therapy and pure amusement and undeniable "I told you so's". Seems like this period of non writing is the latter. The brain wanting to forgive. Wanting to go to a distant, numbing place of not even entering the truth or release. I just don't want to go there now. Perhaps I will soon. But not now. Not publicly. Haven't updated here in a while, and must share why. There are days where the chronic pain eats up my soul and I feel like I cannot even write a line. Nights are longer. Other stuff. So for right now, some deepest darker poetry---the really meaty stuff? It's not for the public eye. Just for me. And for now, I'm not even ready for release. Perhaps soon. Until then, I'll be writing other things. Other topics. Foc