Although I’ve never dealt with writers block, I do occasionally feel uninterested in what I create or creating in general. Creators depression if you will. When each word to land on the page feels empty and foreign. As if it fails to convey the intended message or emotion. Like trying to read a page through fog. Clarity is missing.
It’s times like these where thoughts feel hazy. When it’s least obvious what’s missing from the work is when it’s the most frustrating. The satisfaction of finding a hundred problems each sentence comes with the knowledge that you can jump in and fix it all. This is more like trying to… Read More
Tragic the monotone hum, every five minutes like clockwork.
Distant souls roam going about their moments in the world below. Detached window view of time passing.
Loose tie and suit jacket off. Corner office. Total and complete success. I’ve succeeded my way right into a box. Removed from the social sphere and begging god to fling an asteroid my way and not warn me.
Five minute mark, the scanner hums and I’m ticking away at the keys. Clicking and scrolling and typing and scanning.
Ambient chit chat somewhere off in the pit of the building keeps the atmosphere just above silent.
Working but nowhere near present. Dreaming at the florescent bulbs more powerful than the sunlight that beams through the window. Trees and birds, likely not much farther than the ones directly outside. Reality is only revisited when looking to see what number the little hand points at.
Making green to let strangers more clever than I hoard it in a private bank to avoid it getting stolen by anyone other than the owner of the bank. I pay for that individual to have the exclusive rights to use my money how they want while I wait for 5pm. Pay for their vacations and their hookers while I sift through spread sheets. Twelve hour work days to assure someone will have zero hour work weeks.
At least my watch is more expensive than the entire common household annual income. Nothing but the freedom to stare at my wrist and realize I’ve only begun the day. Read More
Patience is Key
Understanding could only be achieved if we decide to hear one another
If we learn to tolerate in order to listen and comprehend
To label one another without getting to know one another is the road to divisiveness
We’re more similar than we are different
Still we choose to discuss only how “they” are not like “us”
As arbitrary and trivial as these ideas are they seem to rule our daily interactions
We force people to hide their differences and then hide in fear from those we don’t know
But because everyone hides their true selves out of fear of being judged, we know no one
Thus, we fear everyone
A self fulfilling prophecy that perpetuates hate and could only be stopped by its creators
We preach unity but practice division Read More
Total lack of excitement. Routine. Tame repetition. Mundane. Boring. Cyclical and maddening. A total lack of adrenaline faces the savage animal when caged. A stick static stillness which loops back onto itself settles in as is paces along the inner walls of its prison. Aimless it hungers for a chase. Whether hunter or prey. For some change or alternation. For the new and the original. Read More
Slave to this trade that I play. Its my crave. Truth is made. Madness, plagued. Tragic ways. The pen to page releases rage. Increase brain waves. Creative days from dark displays. Incetive chase. A heart cab race as dreams behave like tales well aimed at reflective states. As the mind gets clear the joy is raised. Read More
Been struggling. Distracted. Making up excuses as to why a book isn’t being read or why words aren’t being written. It’s all internal. Self-sabotage. Lack of discipline and control. All the goals posted up, followed by a lack of strive to reach any of them.
Sluggishly it all gets done… eventually. It’s always eventually. No restraints holding back. No blockages in the way. Just laid out excuses. If the effort put into coming up with reason as to ‘why not’ were directed into reasons ‘why to’, just imagine what could be done. Some factor, piece, of being human creates this slow stride. Self defeat is the only way. Deciding to do it without external… Read More
Over the last couple of decades the concept of philosophy has been reduced from what it was at its height, tools for critical thinking, down to trivia information about when certain philosophers were born and what they thought of certain concepts. Western society particularly doesn’t teach the ability to think critically. They focus on these trivialities rather than educating the individuals on how to formulate their own opinions and ideas with the tools of philosophy. We’ve successfully obstructed what philosophy really is, which is a way to acquire perspective. And now we’re faced with a western society incapable of processing complex information. It’s become common place to delegate opinion development to media and social medial platforms and sources. The development of philosophy has been left to politics… Read More
Been a while since the pen on paper made me smile Read More
Until now, I’ve been a faker, couldn’t take it
Thoughts runnin’ wild, but I’ve been tired
Don’t get mistaken
Used to write a quarter mile, then the isle broke
That mild smoke left leaving change to cope
Rearranged the hope, a strange cloud to float
Lingering stench, couldn’t find a wrench to fix the mess
The kiss of death dismissed my breath
Gasping, no longer raspy, just gaps be that mask me
Hiding the face beneath
Sheathed the sharp tongue with which I speak
Write obscene, to run…
The haze settles after the fog lifts
Crawling in the upside down
Lines behind smoke and red eyes
Normal circumstance is wasted
No longer judge the downfall
Judge who won't sink with the Ark
Sheep drugged by shepherds
Noah with candy in hand Read More
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… Read More
Still I sit at the center of the hall facing where I’d go if I moved. Time has become irrelevant in my world. Whether it’s been a few minutes or a hundred years isn’t discernible. There isn’t a day or night to tell. There isn’t anything. Nothing changes in this place.
The region I’m in is filled with empty pods. No sight of dead clones anywhere. Indents riddle the wall opposite the pods more frequently, visible from one another. Yet, no door. No exit. No escape. No anything. Never anything.
I’ve decided to sit and wait. My attempts to kill myself are fruitless. My attempts to starve fruitless.
Finding and end to this hallway. Fruitless.
Finding a living clone. Fruitless.
Deviation is nonexistent.
I’ve been consumed by madness many times over just to regain…. Read More
Snake with eight legs treads web
Foreign slaves beds crave death
Wrapped in strange threats caged pets
Morphed the more fed
Through rageless stages
Frantic wings spread
Punished with stringy chain links
Swallowed its own head
Flight taken stuck to sticky tendons
Slithering tendency rendered
To kill or set free surrender Read More
Jack writes about his journey in stopping marijuana use.
I’ve been a pothead on and off since I was about 15 years old. Began with marijuana. Eventually landed on ecstasy. Even dabbled in psychedelics. The only one I kept returning to was marijuana. I easily let go of all the others. Returned to marijuana so often I’ve defined it as addictive behavior. And I put no blame on the cannabis itself for my constant return. I’m the one with the addictive tendencies after all. Theoretically, I could have gotten addicted to anything from alcohol to gambling or sex. It just so happen to be this because it was the first. It happen while I was the youngest.
I quit for many years. Since senior year in high school until the middle of my college years. When I got back to it I’d only use every couple of months. About a year in it was as frequent as every weekend. I felt creative using it and enjoyed the feeling. It gradually leaked into the rest of the week. Maybe something left over from the weekend would get used on Wednesday. It wasn’t long before anything left over was used the following Monday. As I got more used to doing it regularly it became such a part of the daily routine that I began looking forward to it. Eventually trying to stretch the same amount through the entire week. By this point I managed to get high each day micro-dosing. As my tolerance grew I was less affected and left wanting more each time. I began buying twice as much each week. That kept me stoned Sunday through Saturday. From then on it’s a tolerance building game.
And then I’m getting high to feel normal.
The days I don’t have it I feel anxious. Depressed. Desperate. Bored. I think the boredom is the worst part. It’s maddening. Whenever I try stopping, boredom turns me back around. It’s so easy to access marijuana and instantly make all things fun and exciting. The all natural boredom killer. For a low price have a blast. But I only think this is true. I don’t function sober because what I used to call sober is the state I’ve reached now while high. High when normal, normal when high. I’m paying to avoid boredom withdrawal. The cannabis does nothing but keep me stable. It’s the only way I… Read More
I play with words
Not great at it
I'm too absurd
What I say is madness
Corrupted things I've heard
That make thoughts happen
So I twist and turn
Until I hear patterns
When I feel it works
I jot rabid
Then I show the world
Once I've had at it Read More
At the tail end of their first journey together, the couple finds themselves starving and freezing in search of the desert kingdom to make their big sale and find shelter.
We’ve been out here for days. Six. Wandering. No sight of anything. No site or anything. This desert goes on and on. Our water supply is running low. Our stamina is burning off quicker each day.
Our tents have kept us warm during the sun’s intense rule of the sky. We’re on the move again at the start of the frozen nights, following the glow of each others lanterns. But even the lantern oil is drier with each night. With the dark comes harsher sandstorms trying to steal the air away. Yet, the goal has all but… Read More
Absent minds caged in present bodies
Rage that festers misplaced and rotting
The stench of hate with blood clotting
Boiling crazed surface bubbles
Quiet pops and explosive rubble
Crumbled structures, knocked dominos
Struck and assured lightning, double
Tipped trucks and sequential events
Rocked by repent stuck in events
Loops of screaming heads
Transcend red colored vents
Splattered from the massacre
Of high horses in fire set
Blazed internet Read More
A traveling trader tells the story of how his wife joined him on a journey.
Crackling embers and creaking crickets fill the silent night. Branches sticking from the dirt holding up wolf meat to be licked by the flames. Martha’s been quiet for hours. She only leaves her tent to turn the meat and returns.
I keep rubbing a smooth stone along the edges of our swords. It seem to lecture her every time we barely survive a battle. “Attack and dodge!” I tell her repeatedly. She assures me she’s doing what she can, but I fear being witness to her death. We barely escaped today’s encounter with our lives.
We couldn’t retrieve the treasure the golem guarded or its heart. We were too exhausted to continue. Running for our lives was what we had left. An entire day wasted.
At the beginning it was just me taking these month long journeys to track and retrieve expensive treasures from across the land. Martha didn’t my elongate absences. She’d complain and request coming along to help. She’d say, together we could watch each others backs and go where I wouldn’t dare alone. Eventually, I had no choice but to agree. We trained for… Read More
I don't pretend to be the good guy.
I'm just not hiding my dark side.
I played nice but it ain't fine.
All my plays line under grey skies.
Let the rain fall over flames dying.
Used to chase lies but I stop trying.
And the clot from the smoke in my lungs made me choke.
But the flood cleansed the river and the air delivered hope.
Beware, with mind clear and held rope I hang regrets here.
Under the waterfall crashing over rising steam and asphalt superheated from fading fire from dissolving demons as a monster I became to defeat them. Read More
Consumed by myself. I am living in hell. Twisting mind isn't well. From the good I'm repelled. Where I stood, ground is held. Swiss knife crude, blooded bell. Ringing ears, broke shells. Brisk breeze frozen in cells. Trapped indulgent, expelled demons ravaged the trail. Still transforming but frail. Soon acquire the grail. Quite admired, derailed. Just too tired to tail. Setting fires to fail. Flames rose higher. Refusal to retire. The new age will rage empires risen by crazed beastly crying. At tops peak my eyes spying. I've evolve, all else dying. Animalistic, still trying. Till last breaths fighting, I'll be. Read More