Write Me

I'm not deep,  I'm shallow

Just a creep,  quite hollow

But speak what I reap

It may seem like I keep the depths brief and under my breath

Its all from the chest,  whether weak or from a shot up vest its me

Colorful or bleak

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Structural Integrity at Zero

Structural Integrity at Zero

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.

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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…

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The Mythical Wall of Blocks

A tale of warriors on adventures and worries scared to venture.

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There isn’t always a clear path when staring at a journey. Excuses are unacceptable. Walls are no reason. Spilling the ink is the only truth. Yet, warm masks cry reason.
Without aim or direction an image forms itself. Narratives aren’t born, they’re crafted from struggles. Pointless clicks and scribbles grab hold of the ether and drag down the fantasies pleasantly floating about. Shapeless as they may be alone, collections get named. Ink formed into abstract ideas discussing themselves.
Meanwhile cosplay myths and tales of pens run dry strike fear into the hearts of warriors beginning their path. Religions designed to confuse. Fictions more crippling to the wanderer than the stories eager for design.
But the true explorers don’t fall victim. They travel, even with the fear deep…

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The Great War

The great war begins and for those unaware of what’s really going on, it’s not more than confusing chaos and unexplained horrors left and right.

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Black leafless trees as far as the eye can see. Like a forest fire ravaged existence itself. Red skies plague a dark aura over all that is left. Dark daylight is as bright as a moment gets. The dirt beneath my boots crumbles like glass crackling under my weight. The great war merely strolled through here. In less than a week the entire state fell. The bunker managed to keep us safe in the meantime. There’s nothing but the aching screams echoing through the air left lingering. Entire buildings up and vanished into the chaos.

My grandmother always said the rapture would arrive without warning. It would just be here one day. And it seems that’s what took place.

One moment I’m at my first day at the office unpacking my things and getting settled in to the desk of a tragedy passed. The next moment my window view witnesses what I can only described as giant winged people attacking a tiny record store across the street. Within seconds their numbers are in the hundreds, then thousands. They’re popping…

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Lack of Belonging

Since a child I’ve had great difficulty understanding the emotions of others. Enigmatic, the ups and downs of the average person. Looking back, who I misunderstood the most was my older brother. Our interests drastically different our entire lives. I’d constantly accuse him of fake laughing. The things he found amusing seemed impossible in my eyes as something that could even come across as entertaining. I figured he was either humoring me or others when laughing or chuckling and I’d get confrontational and furious. I’d accuse him of faking the amusement. Tell him it wasn’t necessary. I was just ignorant of the difference in interests. I was ignorant to why it amused him, but he was amused.

To this day, when someone raises their voice or speaks in an aggressive tone I’m not aware whether they’re angry or simply loud. Gauging what people feel is confounding beyond further expression. I don’t know how to approach some. I don’t know what angers or saddens…

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Schizo Youth

Emotionally abusive parents of schizophrenic children should be sterilized.

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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.

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Rage Fueled Blindness

We all have demons we struggle with. Fear of them taking control. And sometimes they do. And sometimes it feels good after we’re done with our fear.

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Pained finger. Cracks and snaps. Deep breaths to get over it. Get it over with. Nausea at the pit of my stomach. Monstrous transformation I’ve undergone. Malice I begun with. Could use a gun, but the pop would make it too real. I don’t want to run. Craving the numbness.
Tight grip, I squeeze. Thought bubbles surface. Words in silence. Boiling water hides the violence. Struggles to keep inside. Hopes to hide. Hopes to die. Tears roll down red eyes. Lingering moments that don’t go by. Branded images. Back of the mind. Persistent twists of liquid mist obscuring things. Rage filled. Caged and ill. Killed will power. Standing still, towers, tall build. Showers of blood ripple. Screaming “enough.” Chilled spine. Raised hairs. Tunnel vision. Blinded sight. Regrets but no want to fight. Sensations that feel right to relieve the pint up aggression. Repression released in the middle of…

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Staying Alive IV

Survival and starvation breed insanity in the minds of the weak willed.
The weak don’t last long.
Here’s Alex.

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The voices scramble in my head. Fighting. Striking all the cords. Lighting sparking up my neurons. Causing pain. So on. And so on.

The scent of sulfur squeezes in under the crack of the door. Seductive. Alluring. It could all be over if I give in. A doorknob away.

Pitch black footsteps on the other side. Some drag. Others pace.

A scent which promotes a familiar taste. Iron. Strong. It lingers in this place.

Greed lead the curious cat to Death’s door. Whether or not I want to remain here anymore is no longer a choice I get to make. Best case scenario is to endure.

It’s been days and the daze is setting in. Not many ways this could end. I’ve already debated running outside. And I hate it, knowing I might die. But there’s no other way to…

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High Horse

Staying clean is easy if your mind is powerful enough to fend off the crave for vices. It’s simply odd feeling. Once you’ve adjusted to some form of reality, any alteration is the new high. Having been stoned for so long rocked, but I didn’t expect such a splash once I settled on the other side. I feel high being over it. Ironically, I stopped standing for shit. Living life dirty just to wash it off eventually. And then I look back and wonder, what was the point of the ride if I don’t enjoy long trips. Claiming to go on a journey and finding myself in the same place. Kept thinking there was no way out. But I won’t give in. It’s time to get high off of being sober. I keep getting older and I don’t want me life to end before the story begins. Too much to do, not enough time to spend.

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Conflicting Thoughts

Close to the edge
Dragged to battle with reflections
Cattle of thought
Tryin’ to rattle the pot
Turn the heat up, they’re not
Just shadows gettin’ nearer
I’m thinkin’ clearer
Glass sight
It’s been years
Their vision blurs up, they’re sinkin’
Turns up still drinkin’
So high they get stuck
In the middle of blinks
With a knives at a gun fight, they might die
That’s alright, just try to get by
Fire words thinkin’ they’ll hurt
Churn my stomach
Ahh, the burn
They never learn
Squirmy, whiny…

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The Other Side

He pulls the trigger to take his life. He lives a lifetime waiting to die.

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Curious, the thought lingers in the back of his mind. “What will it feel like on the other side?” His tongue massages the steel barrel. Tastes of lead. “I’m over this end. Time for something new.”

Trigger pulled, he feels himself fall to the side at a pace so slow it might not even be happening. Fractions of seconds stretch to feel like hours. 100 million thoughts run through his mind as his eyes crawl the wall to the ceiling.

It seems that days go by watching the bulb on the ceiling dim down.

Lucy, the wife walks into view getting ever slower. Finally fully in sight, the terror trapped in her eyes is visible. Horror. Holding little Suzie, too young to know what’s going on.

Lucy paces her way up to a scream. She’s nearly no more than a silhouette. Swallowed by the dark the remaining specs of light blink away. The everlasting fade goes on for infinities. “Bye,” is his last thought as nothing is left behind.

And his eyes are fixed on a new spot of light left dancing off in the distance.

It’s a million miles away but getting bigger. Coming closer. Blinding it gets. And it overtakes the darkness leaving no trace. White floods the ambience. A perpetual ring in the ears. Muffled voices in an unfamiliar language.

Giant creatures like nothing seen before. Yet there is no recollection of seeing anything before this moment. There is no memory of this mysterious, confusing, terrifying place…

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Relapse In Reverse

Poison filled syringe poised just a tinge
Boy still unhinged with the joy to binge
Sober hell, it’s all well stoner
Loner in a cell hidden to drown the noise
Pesky voice, broken record making choices
Fuckin’ heckler making jokes
Drowsy summer, stumble and fall ‘till October
Recall deployed smoke, an attack to destroy hope
Unable to react, moving too slow
Won’t go back…

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Surface Tension

Linguistic synergy
Sick insistent energy
Restrictive mentally

Bubbling up the worthless
Going berserk in
Priceless with work in
It’s working
Goes from broken
To whole thing

Began joking
Got hoping
It came with fear
Wax could melt if too near
Cowards slack
Take one step back
Things go undealt
Peek over shoulders
Gripping pistols pinned to belts
Speak scared, “its over”
Won’t lose this…

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Sliding Slime

The forces of nature depict monsters and strangers
Causes of imminent danger
Blame hurts but disdain burns greater
Like inflamed coal burning black smoke
Up the ass and passed the damn throat
Never mind the trash talk
Air-head, the inflated savior
The last hope
Grave digger
This white nigger who stands on stacks to feel bigger
Triggered when seen fire beneath his feet
Thinking seas
The ship with Lincoln and King Luther sinking, bleak
Tired and unwilling to admire this old cynical liar
Truth hurts so he won’t try it
Clever illusions help with denial
Severed connections avoiding trials
Endeavor rejected…

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Keeping

Perfect tan hands glide over the oak colored skin inked with numbers
Dangerous when temptation leads to over-calculation
Each moment matters more than the last with the dance going in circles
Mind games name the bad times with precision
Twisted and malicious, follows with reminders of glory and joy
Just to drag it all away with more darkness from the past
Please Leave, Retched Watch

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Welcome Illusions

No caged child if no bells are rung
No bloody skirts without sirens
Listening to learn faith
To feel safe
There’s no violence
The blue bird has spoken
Indulge to forget
Let the lines blur
It’s how to lie to shadows
Angry at the food stains
With nostalgia for nice words
of “wisdom” and “knowledge”
Because no feelings would get hurt
Looking away from exploding skies
At words, “one upon a time”
The new stories are scary
Time to worry
Judging the narration
When the subtext is identical
Creepy vocabulary
Forced from the haven of familiarity
Can’t sleep thinking the wolves are coming
Picture boxes, heroine
Goodish vibes
Willing to please if allowed to smile
Gladly show up for dinner
Clean the plate
Say the food was great
As if the hook wasn’t the point
When tears scream “fact”
The solidity of steel is questioned

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Shadows Answer Stalled

Confusion. Solitude.
Maddening, The Hall further taunts the lost soul.

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For years I’ve walked this narrow hall alone.
Haven’t seen a copy in ages.
Haven’t seen one alive. Ever.
Stranger that I miss them.
I’ve never stopped walking, though. And now there’s a steel rectangular indent on the wall. Seven by three vertical feet. No handle. Thus I beg the question, can doors exist in this place?
It might have been months or weeks, but I haven’t moved from before this indent. It means something.
It has something.
The wall goes on from where I came and it goes on to where I’m headed. But I’ve never seen an indent. I’ve never seen anything on the wall but the wall.
And copies stacked against it.
Nothing ever happens with the indent no matter how long I…

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Lost The Keys

Honesty and sincerity are profound struggles we encounter from day to day.
In this piece Jack expresses his experiences with being upfront to himself.

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No phrases around to display the profound
Faces down in the dark places
From which I can’t get out
Empty pages, stuck again
Rage pint up, grab a pen
Ritalin the bad man
No answers, but don’t want to hang man
Doubt is cancer, plastered, back of the mind
A disaster, wasting the time, short lifespan
The taste? Wasted life
”But Captain, the scanner’s shot out!”
”We need a new plan of attack to get out!”
Cannonball the neanderthal
Enchant ‘em, get mannin’ at the control
I’ve been plannin’, call Ganon, start tearin’ down them walls
Raise his damn cortisol, stroke that ego
Bring out the evil, using the ink to mislead him
Don’t let him blink, don’t even let him wink
I want to see what he thinks
I want to read what he thinks
Pull up, last car in the caravan…

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