Make those stupid little pills do what the doctor said it would do.

I am sorely missing in great tides all of my yesterdays, and in too many ways, that pause only harms what is left - nor will it ever be within again. Ever! I only need to smell the triggers, feel the triggers or see what was, and with a heavy sigh and a small thought, give in. I want with such unsteady, greedy hunger, all I have lost, but such heartache is replaced with heartache. It is not a "midlife crisis" or the "longing for youth", but is the unattainable spirit from what is locked in the past. I have spent too many years looking out too many windows, searching for too many new colors, only to find all the a fading, unfamiliar distances vanish. I feel fragile, brittle, and alone, (being a broken, single father). I know for him - I am severely disabled, unable to set a mouthful of stupid little pills to do what the doctor said it would do. I bite them, smash and scrape them, grind a thrush of grit flushed spit of common swallows, willingly eat of this morphine-insanity plea. I stand before and dragon's fog and been taken from me a place where without is worse, and the slide, is the dragon's will bringing you home. I am tired, I am safe and giving-in, without ever pushing away, reached it alone.