…life trying to piece together who I believe I am, all while pretending I have it figured out. I haven’t a shred of an idea.

Word vomit covers the floors and surfaces, splashing across in random directions. I seek patten in all the madness hoping to find organized chaos. Lingering shadows hover over my shoulder with twisted grins watching my every move.

Perpetual nausea in the pit of my stomach leaves a lasting unease to pair with the chest pressure restricting airflow. Only in deep breaths does…

Ancient the sting of fiends with dried wings

These being's death sound like rings

Ain't it fresh when breaths sing?

Faded stress from great things

Slayed fits suited for….

... A limitless stride forward, like tunnel vision but more literal, lost but direct. Skin crawls at the cost with regret. A tinge of rotted flesh lingers. Smells fresh of death to the...

Blade in hand

Under my command

A madman, a badman, a mad plan

Still nerves curve cuss words

Fuck truth

Hurts to know…

Pen and paper
When I write in the tech it feels fake
Or maybe it muddies my thoughts
That's not something I want
I want to flow
Like a river that refuses to accept "no"
During a flood
Dragging dirt along to make mud…

We are at war with ourselves.

Our inability to listen and understand has made us enemies to one another.

War over semantic differences in ideology.

A war that continues to strip all sides of freedom and squeeze the life of those most helpless to defend themselves.

We are the bad guy…

We're mindless
Adoring violence
Worship crimes in silence
We hide since
We're frightened
Waiting for lightning
To strike while hiding
Seemed right then

We try to be better
By sending our selves motivational letters…

A short poem expressing thoughts on life and making choices.

———

Question marks in the air

Answers aren't abundant

Uncertainty is persistent

Aimless wander is built into the system

Aimless wonder is built into the system

Its not different destinations

Its different paths to the same destination

Not knowing where we step

A warn dirt roads

Paved streets

Or a jungle and a machete

Question marks in the air

Insecurities that still peak

A coward who's fears don't speak

Half drowned in tears, but not weak

And although they're sheer shrieks

Its clear, life stands bleak

A mere steer from the grand "seek"

A deer smeared across paved…

Sloped the struggle

Hope means trouble

Tropes get doubled

Please don't fumble

The weight crushes

The grip…

Truth is, I've been plotting on going

Do shit, get ahead of the running

And I'll leave nothing, all knowing

The messiah is growing

Trees on fire exploring…

Different kind of creature

Shadow hidden under bleachers

Shallow, slithering dark creeper

Nightmare seeped to dreaming sleepers

Creaking floorboards, whisper speaker

Silhouetted shapeless shrieker…

Granulated excitement

Moving forward is frightening

Yet, new things are enticing

Knight Ls towards striking

Right turns remain fighting

Lightning's slightest crimes seem

Faded by hope of time being=…

Tragic hopelessness
Habits smoked to chest
Rabid ropes strung necks
Maddened corpse rung best
Havoc strokes digress
Methodical plan by the deranged
Prodigal hand of the…

Light sleight of hand
Time bombs hide behind palms
Dark tones behind iron heights
Wrong rights from twisted lines of sight
Fearful the tie makes cheerful and high
Chains tearful to die
Grains leak paper crimes
Quite bleak bills stacked high Empires rise
Why? They cry and stand by
Built entire towers to ride shy
Setting ants on fire to stop the hill
Who the fuck are we to let it happen?
Who the fuck are they to try?

Dry ink hangs over the page dangling frozen at the tip of a pen. The paper yellows with age. Blank with doubt and uninspired hopelessness. Waiting. Just waiting for the idle hand to sway with originality and scribble with aimless joy, but it all remains static and still.

Although, the air feels desperate the clock is patient as its afternoon smile shifts to a late night frown.

Floorboards creak and thump at pacing boots like a secret killer quietly stalking prey in a cabin. This cabin is nowhere near as eventful.

Endlessly searching for direction, the haunting apparition hovers over the imaginary world with tragic sorrow filled eyes. Hollow and tearfully fixed on the emptiness.

Bloodless pale, regretful and depressive, hatred consume the spirit and ignites strong sentiment. Like an ever growing void of inescapable speed and magnitude. The fear of being incomplete and fragmented crippled and killed the host, but nature demands invention..

Stuck fightin’ in rough lightin’

Fuck tryin’, I’m done hidin’

All that’s left is thinkin’ quick, no subsidin’

Move like lightnin’ while strikin’

I’m above but grounded

Be frightened

My roll and rumble are well rounded

Crumble the walls surroundin’

I make the black clouds mad loud and highlight the background brightly

Cold cause I don’t stop the rain’s gain and pace reigns

Gotta be sick when I spit quick phlegm talkin’ shit bricks at glass houses…

The Raged Cattle
It Casts a Hate Shadow
Inside the Cage, Rattled
Awaits a Great Battle

Piercing eyes forced
Through blackened hearts torn
Twisting steel Born
With angered horns

Real, their shiny sharpened tips
Slicing, poking, making rips
Blind by red the blood lust drips
Freed, this slave just waits and sits

Human nature is a monster of hate for creatures of a different face or to ideas that don't match their taste. Fake the stand on moral grounds but steal, pillage and destroy as we make our rounds limiting all others but refusing to be bound. The second the gun aims back humans make no sound. Deep breaths and reflection searching for a truth much more profound until the finger is no longer pointing then the fires get set to watch the forest burn down. Humans don't regret. They pretend. Human nature is drowned in malice with a smile masking it held proud.

Dark place with the glock aimed
Ain’t a tame thought in the way
Faced lead shots, taste great

Sippin’ at the glass filled with 9s I feel I might blast
Trippin’ thinkin’ this moment is the last

Chill, it ain’t a crime to feel bad

But it’s like I’ve had more than enough time to go mad
A rough road and grip slippin’ on the cut rope
Stuck hope wishing, can’t cope
If I go missin’ no one’ll know, the Earth won’t stop its roll

This ain’t a new feelin’
You’re just dealing with repressed demons
They’re creepin’, keep seepin’ through the crack peekin’
Speakin’ to the your inner thoughts and your dreams that they haunt
Intentions to freak you out when from the shadows they scream and shout
Drought of the good days, dark thoughts replay
They’ve plotted out what they’ll say and anticipate how you’ll behave
It’s rouse, the truth is that good news lies at the end of the tunnel
The struggle leads through a path of rubble
A mountain and a climb, fighting evil the whole time
Harpies and vultures, from time to time a poacher

Jack loves the drugs. The drugs love Jack. But Romeo and Juliet don’t belong together.

—————-

As if something is missing words echo existing madness. They’re always persisting. Lost self with bad habits. Identity ravaged by guilt which has managed to linger and damage the hopes meant to manage the goals I’ve established. The wind blows with a whisper. Crisp hands filled with blisters bleed black ink, sinister. Fear to blink for the monsters sing from the darkness. Ringing shrieks last the longest. Haunting freaks from the back of the mind, begging me to head for the shadows each time. Like felines ask to be pet and loved with hidden agendas to capture and mug. Iron bars, no free will. Screaming from inside of glass jars. Not a peep, air is still. To a crisis I speak, my intentions are weak, suicide is too bleak, but I shiver. Floor boards creak as the demons stalk me. I always escape. Is running my fate? Surviving is great, but what will it take to live? To choose what I give? To stand along with things I love and insist I’m not caught by the whiff of a flame? A rose by any other name. Why can’t I admire without sacrificing my brain? Am I…

Thinking about mortality and the love of creating.

————

Often conflicted and quite difficult to please, a complicated pursuit to remain busy and create overtakes. It’s aimless, but fueled by the imagination of a mind never silent. Thoughts without sleep. A perpetual anxiety holds on the brink of psychological collapse. Everlasting depression lingers in the background with awareness of mortality and the shortness of time. All the things wanted but only few will unfold before the red curtain drops, the lights shut off and the stage plunges to darkness. Countless tail-chases to the priceless and of meaning. Naming it purpose. Hoping it doesn’t come across as…

Electronics broadcasting from our pockets, handing us opinions and beliefs. Critical thinking and self reflection is a thing of the past. Media slavery is the new wave. The new order.

——————-

Pocket mirrors. Clever image. Surfing while catching waves. Searching for shelter. For cover. Dodging rays. Pixel boxes with dark displays. Projected normality. Morality is stray.

Minds stranded far away. Used to pay for electric food. To feed on the endless stream. Turned flood, we’re dragged and taken. Awaken washed up together on a beach with cardboard oceans and salt for sand.

Confused and fragmented we obey chirping Bluejay. Let them lead us. Seed us to repeat like parrots misunderstanding freedom. Thinking the caged bird sings ‘cause joy. Meanwhile…

With logic tossed out the window and reasoning a thing of the past, the outrage culture takes center stage in our media run society. This is a short ranty poem on the subject.

———————-

Guilty conscious ringing off alarms in the darkness. It’s haunting
Daunting the shifty nonsense. Swinging pendulums lost in the crossroads
Demon deals hidden by the cornfields. The chase of success is too real
Flaunting the wrong things ‘till the swan sings
It’s been too long since cashing that check from reality. It’s caustic
A cost that won’t stick. Caused by old tricks. Stone moss that grows thick
Structural failure, neglect, the behavior
Rejected by the savior, reasoning. Calculating to slave work
Seasoning the flavor of…

Emotionally abusive parents of schizophrenic children should be sterilized.

———————————————————-

Draped of silhouettes and contorted figures a dim light barely saves the room from the void. Whispers, maddened by guilt claw at strands of sanity to shred and devour. Fetus on the sheets tightly squeezes its life away, hoping the malicious tones drain out. Louder they get when resisted. Sense of self is ever more vague. Creeping away without hope of return if lost. Angry voices across the door weaken the spirit and give way to the whimpering soul that lay broken while innocent. Confused of cause and with no reason to justify loathe. A burning hatred grows for the sun and the shelter. Welcoming becomes the fade across the shadows with no faces. Simplistic the illusion of nothing. Peacefully resting on the other side of action. Long enough assures bravery for cowardice and silence be witness to the collapsed towers of rage and wrath. Forgotten or at least desired to be the whither phase to the ether. And the river of tears run streams of screams and intention.