I miss black bay on days like this.

I miss the cleansing properties its water held.
My soul was saved the day God sent guardian angels to me.

A reminder to cater to myself.

Nights like these i feel the undercurrent of my depressions. Tugging me from below the calm waters i carry on my exterior. Threatening to make a mess of my flesh. Whispering that i should give up in myself and let the negativity swallow me whole. Drown me. Fill my lungs with rageful breaths. Gasping for a version of me that becomes more fleeting with each moment.
The light dimming as i’m entering my life’s Bathypelagic zone. My fingers dancing across the keyboard to play tether to my drifting mind .
The rain falls as i walk home from work. Maybe this is all apart of one big segment of spiritual cleansing that i needed.
A reminder to call on God. To remember that harboring all these terrible tendencies and harmful habits could no longer serve me.
Not if I’m to withstand these rough seas I’m facing.
These turbulent waters shredded the dinghy that houses my psyche to pieces. And I’ve had to put in the long arduous hours building myself my own Bermuda sloop.

Nights like this feel like the end of me . The waves of emotions knock me. Capsize me. Turn my world upside down like i was Jack Sparrow at the World’s End.
I have to be my own hope. The sad truth is my damage is my responsibility to overcome. No one’s going to show up to throw me a life raft. Nobody is going to guard my life from the call of these hurricanes and monsoons. Not one person in this world will be the lighthouse that gives me hope and guides me towards those calmer seas.
I’m alone
At least my prayers attach themselves to the night sky. And God answers by painting them as the constellations that direct me across this never ending night.
Guide yourself David.
When you find the eye of the storm and calmer waters sit still and listen.
The sound of water playing tug-of-war with the shore always did serve as a remedy. The back end of the storm can sometimes do more damage than the beginning. The hull of my sloop is still incomplete. The healing comes much slower than the damage occurs. And i can’t sit and wait until i think its all better… I have to craft better.
I need to heal despite the the winds still battering at my emptied frame.
I need to tap into my inner Cutty Flam and build a ship that will withstand all. I need to treat myself with the same care and forgiveness i give to the person i love.

Before black bay there was Tilicho lake. And that’s what i told a friend was my favorite body of water.
Purity defined. MKB.
I’ve never seen anything more pristine. And that’s what i want my waters to look like moving forward in life.
And my peace will guide her to outer-space.
My work in her garden will send her words to the NY times.
I Will be the love that defines her soul’s code.

My healing will heal her and put her in that soft girl era.

I write to release📬. And i release to be the best servant to her and to God.

Play sorry Not sorry by Tyler…