Empty Tanks…

The fueled depths of empty tanks.

What a load of crap.

The high and mighty dollar of hells corporation and the feast of the poor and decidedly slim pickings of shame.

I need to reach out and do what I know I can… Is there a fear of being successful? I don’t think that is quite it…

I am weighted down with extra, me, and I am afraid of the now future.

I should be quick, but I am so tired…

Fucking empty tanks…

TL Stafford.



  1. I think that the fear of being successful happens when we think our success takes something from others, or when deep down we feel we don’t deserve that. In both cases it’s about being over sensitive and over caring.
    Just let’s take the “over” part from that and enjoy what happens next… 😉😄🤗

  2. The only person you’re competing against is your past self. Are you better than that guy? Then you’re winning. 🙂

  3. This was so dark and circular. I sense the frustration and I recall a really screwed up economy during that time frame (2011, right?) which I know contributed to more illness, malaise, and just all around anger in general.

    I felt this. Here’s to better, more serene days ahead, writer.

    • I think it is, in general, a screwed up economy. I know for some and a lot it has gotten better. I can only say that we have found a more peaceful place to live (No nightly gunshots) but with limited roads now or avenues. *sighs* My body was my enemy then. It resisted everything I tried to accomplish. It retaliated and I found myself stuck in a bed for a year. Refused to waste away to nothingness and made myself walk again. Still a battle. Still a fight…

      Wow, that was like confession comment, lol… Glad you liked it. 😉

      • Nah, I appreciate your sharing! I went through something similar, but I pulled a lot of the posts from my blog referring to a similar situation (bedridden for several months last year and overcoming it, etc.). Blogging became essential as part of that growth. I get this. 🙂

        How are you doing now?

      • Awww you are very sweet! I’m not so sure I feel comfortable sharing so much on my blog as of yet… So if my confession comment up there disappears. No worries… okay

      • I will never be bothered if you have to delete comments. Thanks for letting me know ahead of time so it isn’t a shock someday! Delete them all if need be, haha! 😉 I joke, but I totally get it. Just glad you were badass enough to be straight up about it and not shady. 🙂

        On a more serious note (and now you might end up deleting this one, too!), I’m getting into your story the high school diaries… damn, T. sheesh! 😦 I am sad that you went through all of that. I really am, mister.

      • Thank you!! I deleted one and said fuck it… lol… I am trying to use wordpress as some way to express myself and get out some things I have kept in for years. So… I’ll just leave it be for now. The high school diaries were tough to deal with. There are more I will post eventually. All about survival… All about trying to deal…

      • Well, you have a die hard supportive blogging friend in me, fyi. I see you and I care. Even though we are virtual strangers, I don’t think that there are set rules where empathy and compassion are concerned.

        I don’t stand much on b.s. social more’s (which gets me into trouble) and I don’t do well with constraints.

        I don’t pity you, so don’t take it that way, but I do admire your courage for putting it all out there. It truly is cathartic. 🙂

        Have the best day!


      • You to my new friend! I appreciate the support and will return the friendship. I have found a few other people on here I like. In general I am NOT a social human being. LOL… my wife, who tried to get me to do this years ago with my poems and writings has an “I told you so…” look lately, lol.

        I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate the comment and the support and the friendship. It means a lot to me.

    • I think resistance to processes, in general, these days is a huge part of my problem now. I’m pissed off at the world. I’m smart enough not to be but too angry to give a crap. I am hidden away. I am my own dirty hidden secret… I can’t seem to do anything but write and be pissed off about my limitations.

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