Jagged edges
Dreams like ghosts escape
I grasp
my mind in fragments
As if my soul is fled, lost forever
in some dizzying maelstrom of doubt
For what was my essence but its organization?
Was I really so devoid of substance?
Are these pieces truly me
or was their semblance the only structure that propped up the ghost?
And I stumble every day, falling, falling
Falling in love, falling for lies, falling out of fortune’s favor
I hit the floor and withstood not its unforgiving face
unfit to live, or so it seemed
My form was my function,
and neither can be again
Give up?
Let scattered shards be ground into dust beneath heedless feet?
Reclaimed by oblivion until millenia see my molecules
take some foreign form
No legacy, nor even legend
Go on?
Learn new form, new function
Be repaired
Reimagine identity

What am I but the scars?
The constant breaking and rebuilding and rebreaking?
Until the flesh is overshadowed by the molten trails that hold it together
What am I but healing? But the experiences that
shape me, break me, make me question all I know
As if this mind of malleable clay could claim sentience
Healing does not restore
Repair will never rewind
These heavy circles of the mind
ever-descending cycles, spirals into madness
would sway you otherwise, but heed them not
Forget, forge ahead
shards molten, melded in the furnace
Emerge reimagined
burned away

See these scars shine
Scarlight in this void I call my soul
A universe unknown
though I gaze from shallow earth each night,
I cannot probe its depths
any more than I can this grave that rejects fragile shell time and again
No shame, not this time
No longer
See me, hate me, break me again
but I will be, fully, in all my shattered glory

Time marches on, its path permanence
Try as you might, but erasure is irrational
These trails may be the lines of heartbreak’s story
but their sunlight-gilded edges sing hope’s victory
Moments etched upon my flesh, emblazoned
despite raised eyebrows, razor-murmurs, rumors
My steps are steadfast, for fate’s pen strokes
are a story not of brokenness, but of strength
I am not shattered on ragged cliff-floors, nor
despairing in desolation, awaiting demise
Watch me stand, gather the shards
piece by piece reforged, brazed and brazen  
These eyes no longer shy from yours
These steps no longer waver
I have been through hell
razed and raised
reduced to dust and reconstructed
flawed and fire-birthed
known life’s knife, its depth and worth

I am impermanence
I am imperfection


I would rather be happy…

Conscience, burned away, refused to speak its own defense
but in riddles circular
till listener and ally alike found nothing but heads in their own asses
While distant laughter the only telltale sign of fled felons
engorged on the entrails of the faceless
The erased
As tears melt down cheeks like acid
faces burned by betrayal
children’s cries sink slowly into earth, heard
only by the ones as powerless as they
The only ones who would save them

We hear of our own demise too late,
for who could see it coming?
When sorcerers’ spells and riddles
lofty words that are nothing but bullshit
evade our understanding, time and again
until destruction is upon us
And who ever heeds the prophet’s words
and dark forebodings?
They seem amiss
in our bliss of ignorance
in the sunshine, smooth sailing
in the hours before the tempest
And like the storm,
our tormentors pass on to new conquests
and ensuing sunlight only serves to show that
we again bear the brunt of malice
For its capacious distension is a safety, of the worst sort
and the consequences are but scratches upon the veneer
of those too big to hurt, too large to conquer

We want to trust
but perpetually place confidence in deceit
For to be told what to believe
what to value
seems safe, for a time
for that quiet time before the storm
As if absolved from all guilt
all responsibility for faulty choice
but on our heads the anvil falls
Not only for our own
But for every sin.
We are the shaky foundation
unable to bear the ponderance of evil
The giants’ fall is softened by the snapping of our necks
the skulls of children cracked on city pavement.
Blame is the burden of the innocent, once more
for they have no voice to raise, beneath the crushing
suffocation of the respectable scoundrel
The gaslight
is the beacon of this corrupt crusade

And then we realize
that all we worked for was a lie
that the promised pinnacle of happiness was a monster
That we become the monster.
Consuming ourselves from the insides
selling our souls
buying them for profit
watching their value rise and fall,
In this chase, we truly only ever fled
Running for dear death from ourselves
from love
from everything that ever fucking mattered
Till some empty shell,
bleeding dust and dollars
crumbled away at the end of the road,
shattered into pieces in the dirt
While far out of time or shadowed memory
a soul weeps
left behind in ashes

Because this is the world with no happy endings.
All we can hope is to realize that before our hearts
become too incinerated to feel
All we can do is grow up too soon, forget the
dreams that once swelled and sung within a young heart
the sun’s kiss, the tickling of verdant grasses
the whisper of wind in the leaves, the songs of winged symphonies
the stars celestial dance, the watercolor sunrise

Or we can get the fuck out.

Forsake the furnace in which we are fuel
the streets that are paved with our own souls, trampled
the numbers seared on flesh,
commodities to be bought and sold
Sold a story of our own freedom
(if freedom is to choose which way to die)
We are the cogs in their machine of war
but we could breathe free air, rather than
the fumes of our own demise

You say we are naive, but I would rather be
than deceived, reduced
to glassy eyes and ashy face
guarding a cynic’s scarred mind
Limited to forging my own shackles, ever lengthening my chains
until they eclipse my shrunken soul
and I cannot release them, for fear of seeing the corpse I have become
I would rather have peace than success
passion for life than for climbing a ladder to nowhere
anonymity than acclaim
I would rather be happy


Stranger in the Mirror

Cold air
Thunderous clamor
One moment and no sense can be made
What is sense anyway?
All you have known is being
Existence free of self
Free of thought
Free of awareness
Now what?
Chaotic knot of flesh and blood
in whirlwind of stimuli
But you learn to weather the storm
and when the earth ceases pitching beneath your feet
when the dancing, ghoulish colors settle into stable forms
You meet yourself
for the very first time
Oh, curse and blessing of humanity
Once your eyes have met themselves
there is no forgetting
the stranger in the mirror
A puppet, a plaything
animated only by you, untouchable but omnipresent
not yet registered as an extension
of your soul, perhaps
rightly so

Thin air
Deafening silence
As in a vacuum
Your lungs a vacuum, but failing
Failing to find breath
No air to breathe,
or to scream
or even to cry
In this moment, this blind moment,
what sense can be made?
All you know is not being
Invisible, a wraith
A wisp about to vanish on a puff of wind
No light, no word, not even pain
can reach you
though you wish,
You do
that it would.
Ceasing to know yourself, over-acquainted
Having studied every aspect
(so you thought)
Abhorring it more each day
Wishing it gone,
Wasting away
till perhaps you may be again still, and warm
Ash in the womb of the earth
But you are haunted by
that stranger in the mirror
Your jailer, your mocker
Parasite leeching your lifeblood, omnipresent
But its strength is your own
Your hand cannot sever nor starve it
Your only companion in this void
Truer than death

Thick air
Phantasmic voices
All sense you had made
your solid ground
fleeing into the grey unknown
Earth convulsing beneath you
Beyond sight
Beyond feeling
as if your very being seeks to abandon you
In this wasteland
Losing thought
Losing awareness
now flesh and blood melt away
All the stable forms of your world
Dissolve into dancing, ghoulish colors
You lose yourself
for the very first time
Oh, blessing and curse of sight
Some part of you, long in slumber
sparks alight in exhilaration
to burn through the fog and find a way
But fear clings, the only self you know
wishing once again to close your eyes with its cold fingers
Into the comfort of past coma
To forget
The stranger in the mirror
Beckoner, singer
somehow familiar as an old friend
but wild and perilous as the sea
and more truly you
than any vestige that clings,

Adventure on the breeze
Myriad songs on its wings
Senses alive, overwhelmed
but not in fear
All you know is being,
free of what you thought
Your self was
More aware than ever
Flesh and blood fused to earth and sky
dancing with the storm
Losing yourself
Finding more every day2722ff4b739e0299fe075f7f4675e9aa
and when you glance behind and see
The stranger in the mirror
Your ghost, your shell
You wonder that it ever contained you
perhaps shed a tear for the years in the dark
but there remains no moment for
the futility of wishing away what was
This path, paved with broken shards
shaped you, sculpted
this masterpiece
gave you the strength to turn your back on

The stranger in the mirror


Schooled in Bloodlust

a052a0f0af1c68e995b94543287b63b5Eyes spark, hearts race
The bloodshot frenzy, rabid thirst
rapidly degrading into guilty horror
The gore
The open veins
Spirits fly away in the gunsmoke
So many last words
Silent screams, on deaf ears
Steely eyes blind, save for the scope
Where all are prey, dealt death
Mere instruments of the world’s puppeteers
deluded by dreams of grandeur and heroism
Pawns, at the throats of their own kind
Youth’s power confounded
If only we knew our own strength
but the despots have their uneasy rest
for another generation, at least
until some wide-eyed, eager hearts are again
ripe for slaughter
To be carved up for the banquet of bloodlust
Devoured by vampiric kings
To stain grasses fed by their fathers’ lifeblood
How long until we stand and defy
all that would pit us against our brothers?
There is no nobility in the indiscriminate annihilation
Each heartbeat silenced is a story ended
burned in a heap to warm the feet of the power-crazed
They paint sanguine portraits of strangers
teach us the word “enemy”
drive love from our hearts
until fear makes them pump hard and fast
forsaking reason and clarity
bent on destruction
They load us down with burdens of death
to make us forget we can fly
replacing real power with illusory,
freedom with deadly toys
But drop the weights, fly away, and look back
See the chaos, the terror
Young souls who ought to know life’s bounty and adventure
crawling in holes, glancing over shoulder,
unable to trust, not even themselves
You see, from this height
there is no “good” and “evil”
Only lies
Lies to disempower and destroy
Confusion reigning in bright minds
whose flames are all but put out
Civilization is suicidal
killing, time and again, its only hope
And for what?
Petty differences
Inculcated with intolerance from the cradle
each innocent mind poisoned, learning to fear the other
rather than rejoice in its beauty
But this depraved destiny,
foisted upon us before we could fight back
this bloodbath our inheritance, waging wars
we didn’t start
against those we do not hate
asking why in agony
But silence is our only answer
or worse
hastily spat generalizations
to drive us back into fear
to threaten our illusory security
lest we question once more
So march on,
For the sake of god and king and country,
or whatever reason they gave you this time
For justice, bringing the hammer of vengeance
upon the heads of the innocent
who can make no sense of the brutality
For peace, for of course it shall only be found in warfare
For honor and duty and glory,
Rage against those just like you,
whose hearts desire the same as yours
whose ears have heard the same lies
whose eyes wear the same blinders
And let the tyrants laugh at you
in twisted entertainment
Gladiators in the ring
Caged, escape an illusion
for only Death is promised to all

The Silent

Spectators, silent96012361dfee4efc0b6367206a16a3f7
Witness to the suffering
Shying from the oath
We prefer to abdicate our consciences
and numb
anesthetize our actions
Don blinders as we rampage
seeing only the score
in the sport we make of existence
Blissfully ignorant
So they say
So we repeat
So we don’t see the truth
So we don’t break beneath
Guilt’s load
But this is an ignorance of will
of animal fear
unable to peer
around our shields
See the light
See ourselves
Once such glaring reality assaults
our sheltered retinas
Callous hearts
There is no going back
but we are incapable of going forward
Or so we believe
swallowing the lie
hook, line, sinker
till snared on the lines they feed us
choking on the barb lodged in our throat
unable to cry for help
or speak out against evil
Silent screams are all that remain
frozen in some grotesque plea
Crumbling statues, whose ruins
shall be humanity’s only grim monument
The silencers
The silenced
The silent

Tattoos on My Soul

Tattoos on my sould90bc33ba6e5561a4f20e8ebdb4dccd9
So foreign, yet so much a
part of me
yes, they heal
but forever leave their mark, yet

they do not define me
for beneath the inked chronicle
lies blood and bone
heaving lungs, beating heart
Though they have shaped me
though I be judged daily by countless
Strange eyes
they are not the sum of my
Being, but when

is peace?
When is healing?
Perhaps when I can remember
without tears
but I don’t think this pang shall ever leave
that is no wrong, but

I shudder too often
at memory’s catlike approach, so soft
it seems, until
the claws
Though that time was once my home
it remains not
nor should
All things have their time and place
but my stubborn heart would

to circumstantial happiness
So many hours wasted on “what if
this had not changed?” but what if
it had remained?
Cheating loss and heartbreak, what
might I have missed?
No telling, nor regaining
Only the next footstep,and the next
Though fog obscure the way
each guide has its time
73b917f153d76c1f38bd7b36e88aa64ahowever long or fleeting
But they all are dead
and gone, to me
No fountain of tears shall

them, but I may rise from the
of my incinerated soul
And learn to live again.

We are Ocean


The blurred lines between my existence and yours

as foamy caps on waves that ebb and flow

crash on ivory shores

And as the ocean

we are one

for it takes but moments and those lines are


in the untameable unity that we are

the rolling waters swirling my own heart and yours

and those of all beings

into the great, mysterious dance

Souls undefinable

a glorious, vast sea

of all and nothing

of one, all

We live and die

rise to the pregnant sky

and fall again to earth

with new face, but same heart

Running, flowing

always going


through rivers and streams

or beneath earth

until we find our place once more

We are the blood

the sweat

the tears of Earth

drawn to the vast pool

the dwelling

where lost we find ourselves

where absorbed we are whole

where power and peace


May the currents of Fate carry us

through every life’s circle