No a happy celebratory piece. Please don’t read if your mood is up and you are enjoying this festive season. But . . . .

A reminder that in this season of celebration and joy, folks still decide to end their lives. Suicide doesn’t take a break to drink eggnog and open presents. To toast the new year.

I battle depression every day, and some years I my shield and sword are more battered than others during this festive season.

Especial ((((((hugs))))) to all whose shields and swords bear the marks of recent battle.

Remember there are suicide hot lines staffed by people who will listen, understand, and care. This is not easy to read; it was not easy to write — ripping at scabs never is.

May 2017 be gentle and kind.

image: #writephoto: time & prompt: mlmm Tale Weaver: Celebration

celebration: time in fractals

Fractals of seconds left

I remain resolute

can take no more

of this so-called life

the bottles emptied

on the table

sorted by color

by strength

my strength

must not waiver

clock ticks another


another light

pops on the string

one two

eat a few

best plate awaits

three four

try some more

mix the pink with purple

what a festive plate

closer to the door

try the blue ones

nice appetizers

don’t mind if I do

five six

don’t get sick

fractal ticks

minuscule minutes

til midnight

til the end of 2016

til the end of me

seven eight

heaven or hell awaits

St. Pete or Satan at the gates

nine ten

I hear I again

bang bang bag

clock strikes like door

eleven twelve

dig and delve

smashing in

crashing in

not midnight yet

no nineteen twenty

my plates a’ empty

not in 2016

I am floating not up or down

but on an ambulance bed

as the clock strikes twelve

(c) Lorraine