Anxious Summer

**warning – confused sortation on mental illness**

I am sweaty with burning muscles and stink of fatigue.. alone once more in the quiet empty room where slow morning light seeks to hide from itself outside.

There is laughter in my heart someplace… it is too hidden from obvious view.. mired with grief at the realization of where things have gotten to. He is so young and yet so wise with the perception that leads only to apathy and despair. How can I show him and make him see when I myself am nothing but lost with words that dwindle as empty as I am?

I am fighting against nothingness. Drawing inward as strongly as I might stop from slipping to oblivion. What kind of father am I that could falter into selfishness and idealistic charades of uplifting things that matter not? Who am I to convince a life is worth living and that even in the simplest of measures there are great triumphs and beauty? How is it that I have been immune to the mental strains that now seep into the fiber of my soul, pulling me down into its lacy tentacles of heavy tar-like lungs full of smoke and sick with goopy cancer bound for death?  Away from denial.

Where are you? Who am I to confide with where my perception is wrought with cynical views and heart heavy with sadness? What happened? God, I wanted the best for you… still do… still fighting, but I am tired.. worn.. and near defeat.

A worry that plagues my soul is weighing me down. I cannot stand being in the presence of others for messy words or a slanted eye give way to more. While I know I am not the only one alive, I cannot cross the room to pull back the truth, for with it goes my footing to a place I may not return. Shielded from the discussion, I am alone and do know not what to do; aside from work and sleep and toil,  I pander in the shadows of my mind looking for a reason. Patience is pulled by grief and desperation to save a life loved throughout time. The in-between counsel is weak to an audience sick with anguish and despair.

There is no more for us. Now you be, only as it suits to stand but for the conflict of habit and routine. But alas, for me, I have crossed my soul’s threshold where love abundant has finally ceased. Do you not see? The plight in the diminishing light has made for a long day where my strength is no longer in sight.

I will sit today.. riding out another weekend.. waiting to return to work where I will sit, again, until the end of the day whence I return to the door and into an empty room where I will sit some more…waiting to breathe and praying for mental comfort to sweep over me.

Published by darren thompson

hello invisible people, I have lived well and continue to live well enough. I hope the same for you. Writing during a pandemic with catastrophic wildfires, hurricanes, economic collapse, political strife, and toxic air means one tends to be pretty sedentary. I am reminded of our last trip to Cartagena, Colombia and the gang of sloths hanging out in the trees. Funny, I don't think sloths are ever behind schedule though. The book, FALLEN, is near completion. I know I've said this before, but I am definitely in the final lap with it. Though, I have not settled on the publishing or marketing of it, yet. I am not even sure how I will use this website. Admittedly, I've been writing on this bit for the better part of ten years. My mind has been wrapped around some weird urban sci-fi-fantasy junk. Feels like a twisted premonition of what is happening today. On another creative front, I am setting up a new website called: which I am kind of excited about. These are writings and ramblings and musings of life when I am out of the flow with writer's block. There projects within projects there. Oh, I live in the Columbia River Gorge of the PACIFIC NORTHWEST. My characters are way more interesting. thanks.

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