I cannot recall whether I posted this before and it feels more real now than it did when I originally wrote it so….

The world I find myself
Dallas Sieck
Sometimes I find myself tripping through life
Falling into holes
And dark odd places I would rather
Never heard of
Let alone fallen into .
Sometimes I find there is a shadow
Between the world and me .
Some days denser than others .
Some days a heavy fog
Hiding the world
Or maybe it’s hiding me
Sometimes the days are too confusing
Nothing looks right
Nothing sounds right
All I want to do is hide
Close my eyes
And forgot about the world .
But then the dreams come
There are a few good ones
But more often than not
I find that I cannot tell
Dreaming from waking
Fantasy from reality .
Time trips by too fast
Distorting everything
Confusing me .
Words ,
Once my friends
Come to my ears warped
And strange
The world Alice fell into
Was nowhere near as strange
And she had a way out
I have no way out of where I am





reaching deeper every year
baring our souls more
showing what we never dreamed would be seen
all the hurt
all the turmoil
all the pain built from hundreds of years
smiles can’t hide it
it runs too deep
fills us too full
it spills from one to the next
we cannot stop it
we cannot run from it
nor hide
forever prisoners
we make prisoners of our beloved
though we try to end it with us
it won’t be stopped
not till the waters run clean
and we are not in control of that
storms come and go
it isn’t whether we make it through
it is HOW we make it through
because despite it all
we will come out the other side
always changed
never the same
but you will make it
already in your eyes I see me
I see your grandmother and her mother as well
how far back does it go
how far ahead will it go
is there any way to stop the flood
there is never just one person
we are never as alone as we believe we are
and no matter what we do
we can’t shelter our children
and they can’t shelter their children
it is a never ending cycle
maybe one day
everything will have run its course
and we will feel the freedom once spoken of


Life is contrary…

(though some say you are just feeling sorry for yourself, even though they feel the same and never seem to feel sorry for themselves.)

When you have to be patient… but no one else does,

when you never have any privacy… but are in the one room in the house where EVERYONE is,

when you are never alone… but yet no one notices you are there,

when the world is crashing in around you… but you are told nothing is happening,

when life is sad… but you are told everything is okay,

apparently tears are meant for other people… but certainly never for you.

That one person everyone wants when they want them… but never when that one person needs them.


Shadowy times

Hello everyone. I know I haven’t posted in a long time, sorry.
I will try to get something written while I still can, honestly I haven’t written much of anything in a very long while. Not even in my journal.
I turned 54 Nov. 26th of this year. From my notes I know that the doctors finally diagnosed me with early on set Alzheimer’s early Sept 2007. I had actually began showing signs several years before.
I was doing quite well on the medication they had me on; Namenda and Razadyne then they had to put me on the Exelon patch because I had trouble remembering when to take the Razadyne.
For the last year Ron has had to put out only the meds I take instead of filling the box and letting me do it. I was sometimes taking the night meds in the morning. Now I mostly need to be reminded to take them.
Writing was not just something to use to communicate with others or even to simply remember thoughts and feelings or ideas. Or happenings. Writing was very much a part of me. Like breathing.
When you cannot breathe you die.
Words were and are so much a part of me that not being able to use them is slowly killing me just as much as Alzheimer’s and all the damage done to my body.
Many years ago, not too long after hearing about Alzheimer’s, I wondered what happens when you can’t communicate with the world any more?
These last few months, especially this last one, at have given me at least a glimpse of what it will soon be like.
Thing is I don’t know whether I am scared or not. I mean, everything that can be done has been done. There is nothing else that can be done at this point.
Alzheimer’s is very much a one way street. On a street that keeps getting narrower and darker and no turn offs.
I have been sleeping a lot and after not being able to sleep tonight I will sleep today, most likely, and through the weekend.
You know what it feels like when you are dreaming and pinch yourself? You feel it, sort of. Well that has been the way things have been a lot lately.
Everything shutting down, waking seems more like dreaming. Most of the time I can’t tell the difference. Especially on very bad days.
I cannot walk yet still I stumble around in either a fog or the dark and am shocked when it is clear. What will happen to everything I have written when I no longer can?
What do I do with my web journal and Facebook? I know I will not care by then, but will anyone?
Maybe I will write more later. It is getting difficult to make it all come together.

From earlier

Nothing Remains



Dallas Sieck


Nothing of the day remains

This is true

Of every day we live

Nothing of the day remains

No headstone is required

To acknowledge its demise

It is marked like the earth,

Sun, stars, galaxies

And the universe

The sunset is its calling card

Nothing of the day remains

Whether I attempt to hold it hostage

My memory, photographs, drawings or written word

Nothing of the day remains

With it goes all thoughts

Hopes, dreams, emotions invoked

They none of them

Even turn to dust

They none of them

Have substance

Nothing of the day remains

Tears evaporate

Dreams unravel then dissolve

Night fades with the dawn


Nothing of the day remains

Like the stories and songs

And though life evolves


Absolutely nothing,

Remains of the day.

A new day

I feel like a light has been snuffed out and I am fighting to relight it.
Does that mean I am tired or close to giving up?
Bojangles is laying with me, though I have had him lay with me for several days now again, it isn’t where he used to lay, but he is warm and comforting and I really don’t care where he lays as long as he is there. I think I and he got used to laying real close because he felt put out, maybe he feels more comfortable? He doesn’t snuggle as much as he did before I got sick, be he has been there. Cats know things we don’t. So do dogs. If fact I think every creature knows something humans simply have either forgotten or thrown to the side, empathy.
I wasn’t going to write anything more than the first two sentences. I am glad I let that something bigger than me make me write more.