This journal will be deleted, as I realise the words that I fight to say are irrelevant.
The stories in my head I could never relate.
The songs that I hear I cannot write.
The journey I make is mine and mine alone.
The photographs I take are lacking in colour, contrast and continuity.
I am brain damaged and cannot communicate my thoughts let alone understand the thoughts of others in writing or speech.
I have tried and failed to overcome the massive destruction that was done to me by a drunk driver and corrupt police officers that offered help to their friend rather than caring for the victim of his crime.
I have so much hate inside me it is destroying me.
Every siren I hear drives yet another nail into my coffin, as it revives the hatred I have for the liars that have taken everything from me including my self-respect.
No don’t go to sleep after reading this unless you are prepared to have a nightmare and find that I am riding the pale horse that threatens your compliance with a corrupt system.
This is the dawn of a new day.
This is no time to fall asleep.
So I will continue on Notes on the Scale that will never try to be anything more than it is.
A lifeline from me to you if you should ever find yourself drowning.