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A Supernova’s Discontent

I have never known the peace
of satisfaction,
just the endless gnawing hunger
of want.
Desperate and empty,
with all the stability
of an imploding star.
I crave the hearts of worlds
not my own,
spread thin
across the cold yearning
of my own expectation,
hollow hands with open palms
reaching ever outward.  Continue reading A Supernova’s Discontent

We’re All Mad Here

Writers are storytellers, first.

We are brushless painters, chisleless sculptors.

Architects of new realities and crafters of perception.

We are the hero and the villain and the comic relief.

The inexorable sadists,
the indelible masochists.
We are the light at the end of the tunnel
and we are the train.

I’ve been told that writer’s are little more than professional liars, career procrastinators and champions of solitaire.

Continue reading We’re All Mad Here

Battle Cry

TRIGGER ALERT: Graphic Self Harm.

This is an amazingly powerful song. I watched the clip, cringed, identified, and watched it again.
It’s one of the most stunning pieces of lyrical honesty I’ve heard in a long time with an incredible message of strength and being your own salvation.

While I’m not usually a fan of female rappers, Angel Haze has this intensity and clarity in both her rhymes and her message that has me helplessly hooked. Everyone should hear this song, if the trigger alert is too much for you (& it is confronting, especially if you, like me, have history) then I’d advise you to press play and scroll down or at least read the lyrics under the cut. Her words are unflinchingly honest and saturated in genuine meaning.

Continue reading Battle Cry

“Picture Perfect” – Said The Liar To The Mime

I’ve always felt wrong, like a 1000 word puzzle smashed together by a careless three year old. Pieces jammed in out of place and out of shape, the picture a mutated attempt at what’s on the box, with all the symmetry of Picasso.

The image on my metaphorical box is pretty and well ordered, my pieces are not. I’ve always felt like the small child responsible for my creation got angry and tired halfway through and tossed everything up in the air to let the pieces fall where they may.

Leaving me unfinished and full of holes.

Continue reading “Picture Perfect” – Said The Liar To The Mime

The Midnight Hours. V.

The midnight hours call to me.
Staking their claim with sighs torn from bitten lips.
A hedonist’s celebration of innocence lost
marked, claimed, owned.
Power intoxicates; it’s provocative scent drugging my senses,
a witching hour rose,
blooming in the new blood flush spreading dark across your throat.
The familiar, voyeuristic gaze of a kindred boogie man skulking
in the shaded edges of my own and I wonder
If I too
Am the monster

Under the bed

The Midnight Hours. IV.

The midnight hours call to me.
Silent pleas smothered by the terror of nightmares half formed.
Shivering in the wake of dread’s ethereal touch
Haunting, chilled, reverent.
Blending with the staypleasemore of lovers and the lonely,
a non-believer’s prayer.
I am a vampiric spector, drinking deep from desperation’s veins,
inspiration sweet on my tongue as I twist pain
into prose and I wonder
If I too
will burn to ashes

in the dawn.

The Midnight Hours. III.

The midnight hours call to me.
Beguiling enticements drifting saccharine and feather soft on the breeze.
Lilting lullabies for the dreamers wandering lost,
melodic, tempting, treacherous.
Enveloping me in the invincibility of a landscape tinted grey.
Shades of moral ambiguity.
I am a fateless gypsy dancing with wolves,
recklessly twirling beyond the grasping reach
of my own humanity and I wonder
If I too
can spin fast enough

to escape.

The Midnight Hours. II.

The midnight hours call to me.
Whispers heavy with the seductive weight of promise.
They sink claws into my spine and pull,
taunting, insistent, magnetic.
Luring me in with the indomitable thrill of the hunt.
Beckoning inexorable and enticing.
My heart beating the tattoo of war drums,
a primal homage to the warriors of old,
Gladiator and lion alike and I wonder
if I too
am to one day

be the hunted.