STEALING FROM FAMILY

You know it was like the blues. It was. Cliché or not it was what I got, and what I got was the blues.

The regret was real, like stealing from your own family. Like robbing a grave. Like cheating on your wife, then blubbering teary-eyed as you confess to some vague trolloping...

afraid of losing you... my only anchor....now set adrift. 

I miss my Mother. 
My father?....

                        (some)

I stood without a choice, or a chance. It was colliding. There was pain from the beginning. Sometimes dull, sometimes sharp, but a pain, nonetheless, no one to blame pain, the dull kind. You play with the pain you live with every day.

I had just enough time to catch the bus downtown and not be late for work. Nothing special, just a gig. A gig I needed but was having serious thoughts of leaving. How could I be doing that when I am broke without it? And yet, I grow restless easy and tonight was an uneasy night. So instead of chasing the bus, I let it roll, then took a stroll down the boulevard...past three, maybe four, bars, but was oblivious...until this one.

I had eight bucks on me, and a paycheck due in two days. I was rollin'.
I'll catch you inside.

V