California

California is a vulture pecking at the future’s corpse. Every new regulation is an epitaph. The democrats are confusing a tombstone for a monument ...while the rest of us morn.

This place I once loved, the Eden of my youth, I wanted to grow old here. I wanted to one day make it mine with a house and a family ...a plot of land I could call home, but this place is a grave.

Every day I lose a little more of my hope in California ...and in myself for not leaving. My parents, my grandparents, my siblings are all here. If I left California, I would be leaving them too.

Family is what shackles us to this life – a prison we seek out willingly. We’re inmates to our nature and captives to the promises of tomorrow ...but what is tomorrow without hope?

Hope is the convergence of justice and imagination ...the notion that the future will be fair and full of potential, but California is neither.

The government is a fistful of little tyrants demanding every day that I adjust their crown.

If I have nothing, the government applauds the mercy it might show me. And if I have something, I’m a thief for keeping it.

California, my novice heart was yours. I wanted to grow old with you. You were so beautiful, with cliffs that kiss the ocean and skies that only God could paint...

...but you are gone, and I am mourner.

[12-11-2017]