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This came in the mail today, written by Brett ... I am so happy he is writing again. Now with a clear mind.  I have various notebooks, journals, and scrap notes of his that I have collected over the years as he was in and out of our home. Sometimes they are hard to read. The influence of drugs painfully evident, yet as I pour over them I  see flashes of brilliance, little bits of the boy I knew and glimpses of the man I knew he could be. He told me it is a rough draft and he wants to work on it some more but I wanted to post it anyway and he said that would be fine so here it is ....

make way I say!

make way I scream!

it's the march of the damned 

it's the dead souls parade!

the onlookers now,

they don't seem quite so brave

as the troupe marches on

trailing footprints in flames

pray that I'm not lost

rubber necked with wide eyed wonder

I'm resistant to the cross 

knowing well my soul's to sunder

the crowd looking on 

thinning quick

friends are gone

I'm fading sick

my eyes search the black robed mass

for and end, a heel to death's repast

but

I know, I feel

as hope fades fast

no end in sight

hope dies at last

pray that I'm not lost

rubber necked with wide eyed wonder

broken before the cross

knowing well my soul's to sunder

my feet shuffle forward

I'm pulled into the throng

inside, outside I'm screaming

this life turned out all wrong

but now I see I'm lifting

as I leave the ground behind

towards death the mass keeps drifting

but tears of joy have left me blind

knowing I'm not lost

angelic applause roars like thunder

I'll kneel before the cross

eternally filled with wide eyed wonder