DruNK PiGmIEs iN mY HeAd

Can’t write a thing - What can I say?
The words are stuck; the story’s run dry.

Something’s holding down what’s chained up inside.

Not letting me swallow or gulp down my pride.

There's a curious mix of emotions whizzing through my brain.

As the great adventure begins that I've embarked on once again.

Like little drunk pigmies dancing wildly in my head,

I feel dizzy from the excitement as well as the dread.

Ironic that with one written word, there and then.

I turned my life upside down with that same pen,

That now cannot form a proper letter, or meaningful word,

For those jumbled up feelings that don’t follow a single chord.

As I try to make the best of this crazy chaotic mess,

I laugh out of glee and cry out of loneliness.

At times crawling back into my protective shell,

Only to crawl back out and boogie as if under a spell.

Hating then loving the novelty in swinging altercations.

Tasting a new lifestyle that’s often testing my patience.

I now get drunk with lust hungry expats in Roman-like orgies (not sexy)

And dance after curfew in clubs where the locals groove (with me).

Some of these weirdoes (we are to be here) will be homies for ever,

Others mere shadows disappearing in the hazy hot humid ether,

Will I grow to be stronger that I thought I ever could?

Or learn things about myself, bad as well as good?

Accept the distance I’ve put between me and my loved ones?

And enjoy the moment – let the bad be bygones?

I am taking that leap of faith regardless - anyway,

Figuring out how fly, as I go, day by day.