Half a century.

When stated like that,

an eternity

seems a single act.

Yet the tragedy

was that many acts

were used to shape me.

Hate filled where love lacked.

Yet, I did not break.

Yes, my soul is bruised

and my heart does ache,

I can get confused,

and scars remind me

it was not a dream.

But I define me,

despite what may seem...

Permit me to bend

your ear.

That look! Oh my friend,

I'll steer.

Just follow along.

You see

there was this glass bong

and me,

and there goes that look

again.

You should have that looked

at, Tim.

Your reaction is

tell-tale.

Really, it's no sin -

you're pale!

Take a deep breath, Tim.

In, out.

What were you thinking?

In, out.

Here. Sit on this chair.

Dizzy?

Loosen your tie, there!

See me.

Concentrate. You'll be

alright.

You feel so clammy,

uptight.

When was the last time

you went

to get checked? You're fine?

Here bend

forward. Head between

your knees.

Fine you do not seem.

Just breathe.

Let me take your pulse.

Relax.

This is not your fault.

In fact

this is just Nature.

Go home.

and when you're secure,

alone,

draw yourself a bath.

lay back -

Tim? Where are - come back!

Come back!

you whisper memories of childhood

of the metal burn from the playground slide

of the yellow swing that once sat in the backyard

of playing catch with tennis balls on a cracked asphalt road

it’s a flashback to feeling safe,

unburdened by living out in the world

of a time not fouled by stress or by spite

and so the low pitch of your voice in my ear mutters a reprieve

of lovely nostalgia and sweet memories