Bailey


The Byronic Man

When I found Bailey at the pound, he was so malnourished that the Humane Society staff had mis-identified him as a hound dog – just a depressed pile of bones and droopy skin. He could only walk about 15 feet at a time before he’d need to stop and rest for a moment.

Then, as we fed him and exercised him he grew. And grew. I went from being able to pick him up and put him in the back of the car to, well, having to just swear at him helplessly if he didn’t feel like getting in. This was 12 years ago. He’d eventually get to about 150 pounds, almost no fat. His dog bed was a twin mattress.

He was never an easy dog. Not even the rosiest of glasses could paint that image. He was protective and bad with strangers and would shed baffling amounts. More than…

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Poetry: That Road


This is the slow road to hell, sinking in this summer heat.
A lonileness so deep, you would never even believe it.
Occupy yourself, no one can live life for you.
But I’m down that road and there’s nothing that I can do.

See these lines on the horizon, they lead to nothing,
They lead to nowhere, and it’s there I must be going.
Spend some time with me, well you’ve planned every weekend,
And I’m down that road, it’s a road that no one’s going.

Read everything, caught some sun, drank some inspirational tequila.
You’ll never see me going, your living your life like the wind blowing.
Fan the flames that this summer heat waves maken’.
I feel incomplete the more time life is a going.

I never made that choice to be a part and be frustrated.
You live your lives, you don’t think of me,
If I’m not in that moment, it’s to hell I must be going.
But I’m on that road, and it’s a solitary journey.

You’ll never know that kind of isolation, in your own lives.
I know you you’d never be forgotten, but you’ll never slow.
All these fake tears, well the sun burns those to salt.
And I’m down that road and it’s a hot mess for a stranger.

Don’t you know I’m going as fast as I can, but I can’t keep chasen’.
For me you won’t be slowen’, all our lives have been forgotten.
You forget mine went to pieces, so little do you know or wonder what I go through.
Life must be easy, you’ve never been down that road.

And you don’t stop to think of all the commotion, that I must undergo without my independence.
6 years is along time to be trapped in sandy places.
But I’m down that road and it’s heading into the setting sun.
I’m down that road, where the pavements baked to ashes.

It’s a hell trying attempting to live, when half the time you’ve been forgotten.
Too much effort, too much years, too much going on in your lives.
But I’m down that road no one gave me a choice about it.
I’m down that road and I’m afraid that you’ve forgotten.