easier said

huddled down as if the world is about to eat you alive

wrapped up in yourself like nobody’s business

nestled in the belly of the vomiting whale (waiting just to drown when your spit out in the projectile)

teary-eyed & gasping for breath

basking in the horrors of the past & in

disbelief of any good every coming again in the near or distant

future

reaching out to grasp the hand of any compassionate creature

counting every living minute like it is one away from your last

smothered by a blanket of disappointment & despair

fed up with the offering of any illusions

deluded by hallucinations of friends that evaporate when you try & speak to them

dancing on the coals of withering memories of positive moments in the past

all awash in anger when the sadness subsides

all ready to accept the sadness when it comes back in a flood of negative-memory attacks---turning away the gun

is always easier said than done.