T Scott Mcleod

Lay Me Down T Scott Mcleod

Publisher Marketing: A dream, surreal. All the people I've know'd. Every moment, gone - here then gone. Spent so much of my life, complaining, what is there to complain about - wanting a different life - not leaning into this life, not living this life. Live your destiny. And this, too. This, too. This too. Did I define my life, or did I default into it? NOT IN CONTROL / NOT KNOWING RELEASING CONTROL / RELEASING KNOWING The HALL OF SOULS - maybe I did choose this life Making a baby - RIDGE wheezing DESPERADOS No hope, without hope can't be redeemed - nothing to lose What are they going to do - sentence me to death? Kill the president if I wanted. Falling - nothing to hold onto, nothing onto which I could hold - just, a freefall. The emptiness of thought. Thoughts, here, then gone - just ideas - nothing compared to the reality of experience - something I'm watching - not me. So I'm gonna die. I'm going to my death. Acceptance. Being with others, not being alone. It happened to everyone, this wasn't just you; everyone would go through it. Grieving and crying being a normal part of the process. "I'm going to kill myself," I read. "Kill myself. Blow my brains, no, do something else. Die spectacularly. Instead of chemotherapy. Better to burn out, then fade away." Contributor Bio:  McLeod, T Scott I write because of the fragility of our existence. I write because it's my answer to impermanence. I write because it helps me stay connected to my heart. I write because we're all different, and so much the same. I write because the world needs more tenderness. I write because I'm tired of secrets. I write because it's my path to redemption. I write because I've forsaken those that I love. I write because I want to know myself. I write because I want to know you. I write because I'm drawn towards things I shouldn't do. I write because every flower is meant to bloom. I write because life is full of paradoxes. I write because I've had to leave friends behind. I write because it's my form of prayer. I write because, when I write, I lose track of time. I write because I've walked dark streets looking for love. I write because of the way the sublime slips away from words. I write because of the twice shy part of once burned. I write because it helps me learn. I write because there are plenty of people who have written, famous well-published people, literary figures, literary giants, and I didn't like what they wrote. I write because I'm always telling myself stories anyhow. I write because I don't know all of the reasons I write. I write for you. I write. I write. I write.