Standing on a Writing Block

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...choke and struggle,
Yet, nothing comes out,
And I’m the one stopping myself,
But I don’t know how,
There’s no failure
Don’t quit, don’t fail
Time outruns everything while the blank page rests,
Infuriating interruptions seem countless,
Still, I feel it tingling my skin,
The lights die out,
My hands begin to spill the ink,
It feels like I’m getting somewhere,
I’m delusional here,
And I write,
Scratch it out,
Try the laptop,
Wipe it out,
It’s almost morning and I’m still sitting right here,
And I panic,
And I panic,
But I’m still right here,
Thinking is harder,
And I’m stressing much further,
The doubts questions...

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Droppin' E

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... time to pretend, spring to my feet but don’t know where I’m headin’, regrettin’ all the pills raddlin’ my stomach ache, faces, fake masks, places, heads off, flight around the room, zoom, duck, zoom, FUCK! They laugh at me. Is this happenin’?

I grab a broom, “vroom” out the window and change the tunes, soon to arrive and maybe arrive alive and doomed, save a life a little...

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Time Jogs

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...crumbling infrastructure.
From buildings to dust, living to fertilizer.
The true power of the moving arrow is infinite beyond understanding.
The tower of then and now stands tall overseeing every second.
Time sits on its thrown, bleeding its immense influence waterfalls over all.
Its influence which reaches into the depths of perception itself.
Cruel time with its dark sense of humor.
It’ll patiently discipline another through years of dedication.
And after long enough...

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Transistor V

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...child in the gate!” he explains.

“Wait… It’s been like half a day…” she says, eyebrow raise high.

“EXACTLY!” Isaiah shouts.

“You’re serious?” Sarah asks.

“No, I’m fucking joking. Of course I’m serious! What would even be the point of a lie like that?”

Isaiah explains what’s going on to Sarah on the way out of the woods. He tells her how the boy ate the fruit of knowledge and was led to the gate for his own protection. He explain how he needs her help to track the passage the boy used to cross the gate.

Agreeing to help, they...

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She Speaks My Language

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...we always do this twisted little dance.
And we fight.
And we get over it.
And we fight.
And we get over it.
There’s no reason when either of us can’t quit on the other.
But we don’t.
Regardless of whether or not I ignore her for entire days at a time.
Whether I tell her my deepest truths or not.
Whether who I show up as is truly me or the lie I’ve made up.
She’s always there.
Always teaching me more.
Always making me better.
Always making me whole.
So I’m always here.
And I’m a bastard.
But I’m still here.
Who she saw as a child is not who she sees now.
Those are two different people.
My innocence...

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Transistor IV

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...out of the other still focused on the black hole. This copy is distorted. Somehow different. Subtle deformities. The eyes aren’t quite right. The nose isn’t quite right. It’s a monster. He spreads his arms out and a glowing yellow field of light divides him from Isaiah and Sarah. They stare at each other, as if communicating a telepathic message they both face the field and fire, but nothing happens.

“Can you move us through...

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