written by: Steve Pearson
I don't know where I'm going,
I just know I'm arriving there soon.
I feel the journey all over my bones
While I'm whistling a familiar tune.
Some of these days are forever,
And some days are yesterday's news,
Like a barefoot stroll in the sunshine
Or like wearing an old pair of shoes.
I'm going, I'm coming, I've lost it,
Like a shit, Friday night juggling act.
Stand clear, stand fast, but stand by me
My bullshit's about to be unpacked.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Episodes of mental illness can be like a journey going who knows where. This first offering explores the often jagged nature of the journey.