Sometimes I think I’m just talking to myself in an attempt to stay sane, telling secrets to the wind- but it hears every word I say, bringing them back to me in such a way that leaves me without the words to elucidate

Every thing whispered in every place is declared from the mountaintops, and no matter where you go to efface it’s echoed back to us, are eyes open to see, do our ears hear who’s singing over these

Tell it to the sparrows now upon the air who fall not to the ground without a care, confide in the jackals of the plain and it will be clear, no longer needing to be explained here

One of the greatest mysteries of this world, how everything is made to break yet all fit together in such a way to declare themselves beyond commonplace

Who tells chance which way to go, who writes the romance of the rain and snow, who told the dove where to find its given mate- or the raven above to fly of a different way

Before the thought even passes my mind, it’s there before me as though set before time, where is the dividing line between my will and my failure and what was never mine

Do these illustrations ever filling my head have any origin beyond the unsettling intensity of my emotions, neither graceful nor desirable, or worthy of any admiration the eye can hold-

Both insatiable, a moment being all they may behold, beyond all grasp, not as the waving grass, or the stars that will stay much longer in their place

Most of the time I think I’m talking to myself to create enough lies to go on, it keeps on coming back to me and I try to shrug it off, because every time I dare to believe in another breath it’s all taken away, proven to be the next jest

Why are the very trees listening if all I could ever say is just a fading whisper on the breeze?


7.13 free write

I had a close friend a decade ago, who came and went from my life as all do so, taking each to our separate paths and I wonder with dread every time I check back

Why would God take nearly everything from him, crippling him both in body then in the mind within, losing his freewill in so many ways, an excruciating pill to pass upon the days

Will God put off forever, what merits His favor over another, why show Yourself to one but to the next go undercover

I lost my faith in the ways of God’s contexts, always afraid of what’s coming to get me next, ducking for cover to evade the stray bullets

Everyday it’s a new tragedy, and most commonly to those it’s most sad to see, as though one candidate deserves more or less than another, but truth is the grading curve doesn’t work how one’s expected to discover

The darkest depths of any heart are no mystery to the Ruler of the stars, but these events do not depend on how good or bad one is to this end, but semi- preordained kind of happenings is the trend

Unsearchable, Irrefutable is the author of what hurts or is both beautiful, but we all get ours, without a moment’s doubt, breaking us apart from our insides out

But what happens when all the cracks break through to surface wear, when it’s seen that we’re all trapped, just trying to procure our share

They say we all just want to be loved exactly as we are, but when all of the breaking is done, is there really enough to start

And in all the damage is it really always managed to bring some kind of solace in the places no one can, or do some pieces get left out, just broken and empty- handed?

7.12 free write

I’m left here alone with nothing but my anger and shame, called fate by some but I hold myself the only one to blame

I don’t know which poison to choose, it’s too late to return and both bring a different noose, the more you try to get out the deeper the blade sinks, cutting away a different part of your heart and instincts

Leaving scars that never went away, Left with no way to present a clean face, until I become the villain and never could have imagined how the details would fill in

Dragging down inside the remnants of emotion that kept me alive while adrift upon the ocean, looking for signs of a future in time that’s such a foolish notion

Come winter’s eve I’ll be just a memory, I tried to change but couldn’t enough for the death of these things, and it’s all so fucking old, I’m not even on the outside and still don’t want to know

But now you see the worst part of who I am, prayers fade away and it gets harder to hold back, what the fuck is wrong with me and I just won’t let anyone see

Therapy, pills, a conscious change of will, break things and erasing memories of what will never return, but it never works.

I didn’t believe it’d be this hard, though ironically I never even started, it chews you up and spits you out until you’ve no idea how it came about

They’re not just words, though they didn’t even need to be heard, but as they too become something that used to,

It’s not pretty and it’s never what it seems, Save to be that by winter’s eve I will be just a memory.


There’s not a whole lot that I could or should say, if it is what it seems, it’ll always be this way, It gets more difficult to find any of the words, when it’s all cyclical, like I’ll be here forever

Everything inside seems to shrivel up and die because some things ever remain, no matter how hard we try, It draws every drop of life from me every single day, with nothing real left for extraneous things such as companions or soulmates

I never thought as a child I’d end up expending all of my time and energy just holding up beneath a life I no longer want to keep, never would have thought it so that all of me would be tired, in vain, and end up alone

Perhaps I ought not to rely so much on God, but the truth is He’s the only one who sees and comprehends every part of the mess I’ve managed to make of the remains of a life I gave away

I’m doing the very best I can with the situation, and everyone’s stressed beyond comprehension, but there’s nowhere to go to break away from the tension

It’s all too much and I keep on fucking up, numb just to cope, unable to make a move wearing this heavy skin so the only way to breathe is to dissociate from everything

But I really don’t have a right to complain, just like everybody else has all of their own pain, I don’t know how to build that contentment here, everyday pressing on through the emptiness and fear

Everything violently screaming at me all the time, including the hurricane brewing inside my mind

Where is there to go to now when I already feel used up and worn out, generating nothing at all and each of the fuses are worn raw

Not compensated nor healed, just banging my head on the steering wheel, half blind and I don’t even mind, When you can only suffocate the screams for so long, when the sky keeps retelling of what you’re trying to run from

I can’t seem to stifle its sound, only taking me even further from the ground, intoxicated with thoughts of desperation, being trapped in a place where I can’t learn to breathe when every new voice is choking me

Of problem and fault and what doesn’t matter at all, I don’t want to become stupid, but they say it’s better than where you’ve been, Maybe I’ve already been there, with my back against the wall, and moving away isn’t any different at all

It goes around and around and around and there is no better now, if you’re not wired like the system, there’s nowhere you would belong anyhow

And it’s old, there’s no new thing to behold, these words are worn out as I, never renewing themselves with the passing time, so everyone will forget because that’s what is meant, I never could pretend that I or these words were permanent

Welcome to the world, the madness in my head unfathomable, it was never for show, because I bled these words out, to cope with the world I know.


I’ve long felt these emotions to a degree that’s far too much, surely though they too will fade to another part that’s numb

Its been some time now that I see what they meant, that I have a decision since I’ve been dying in small increments

And we had just met when shit was really getting ready to begin, when every piece of my world was still suspended overhead, set to shatter into irreconcilable pieces in the end

Maybe though I just get what I deserve, the same fate as most everybody else to walk this earth, nothing better, and some will have it worse

but to even think of what lies ahead makes my stomach revile it’s diminished contents, do you remember where it began back then

How can I feel so changed in the space of just a few hundred days, everything changes they say but did they mean that nothing good stays?

No one can comfort me, there’s nothing they can say or do, because you can’t make it better when I’m wrestling with the truth

Which hurts more than any amount of lies, but eventually we all run out of time, did your heart stop singing, do they all feel so deeply

All that drives one to insanity and distrust, to vanity and lust, to suicide and hiding, and the murder of desiring; must all things die?

I feel too much, but not enough to trust that anyone would ever love me again, it’s hard to explain, my heart’s only in part ever displayed, anything beautiful concealed beneath pain

Just the way in which we all carry our most secret pains, I see their hurt but it increases the burden, for there are no promises nor hope for those who choose to live uprightly so

We all end in the same grave, all of our labor taken in vain, but a vapor in the wind and with no power to change what will be and has been, for only the face of God could hold back fate, but He seems to work in less mysterious ways

Being so, is there no hope in this life that I could know, though I’d love to believe in the songs I hear on the radio, I guess it’s impingent on one’s disposition.

Though it doesn’t seem to be just a decision, I simply don’t possess that kind of vision, and the man was right if God said I wouldn’t get along with the flock, or they’d misjudge my heart, attitude, and thoughts

And cliche and immature it may sound though, I never felt understood by anyone I’ve known, but none of us really are I suppose, maybe that’s why, when we still always feel alone

I’m sure some people in my life- if not more- think I’m dramatic all the time, for what they don’t know- and ask the most asinine questions over and over, which makes me think that maybe they’re not alone over there

On the other side of the glass we’re always speaking through, I wanted to find a way to once not feel alone too, but I never can break through with all these secret battles that tighten like the same noose

Futile but chained to me as irons, I can’t move on, I can’t let go, everyone’s better than me at letting it be, everyday the weight seems to grow

And I don’t know where else to go.

7.1 free write

It’s hard to see that truth, even more so to put the past behind you, all for the fear of what the future brings, all that’s inescapable and pushing towards the brink

There is no going back that way, and you know that you nor the future will ever be the same, having never been here before, it’s terrifying not knowing how to keep settled the score

What more will befall? Can one ever feel happy again at all. When my joy is set within too strict a thin margin, and I know that it can never be what I had originally targeted

It’s hard to believe I could ever be happy in places I don’t want to go, it’s sobering to see that the feeling doesn’t matter as it still shall be as so

How I yearn that I could disappear, not stay and be trapped between eternity and here, it sounds too long a time for a soul tired all the while

Does time stamp out all lively passion, do all fires die down from youth in its passing, is everything grey from here on forward, will there ever be days again when we’re not old and bored

I can’t stand to live that way of life, I can’t settle to just fade until I die, don’t you see the days are running against the end, why can’t I find a way to enjoy any of them

How do I pull myself back out of the rut that always seems to creep back up, as soon as I’m out, I fall back down, wasting my life, my time, myself, these lines

Just one thing must matter, but it is not to be found, all that’s rumored to satisfy a moment in time ends up being empty as the last thing tried

Fake laughter in the company of feeling alone, any stranger behind me feeling as close as anyone I know, an insatiable void, leaving me impatient and annoyed

Irreciprocal connections, and all the old salves taken from me, so I can never take a breath or feel close to anyone I’d meet, like living perpetually below glass, and most everyone around jokes and laughs

I can’t tell if we’re all fake or if I’m missing fundamental parts of being of the human race, taking no pleasure in getting together, nor old company revisited, I would rather be alone than remember what I’m missing

But the sky is a mind, where all things remind, dwelling ever in its presence west to east, there can be found no hiding place not beneath, merely reflecting

From the inside out, what more can be known now, how and where or why a heart ticks, can one ever truly change what is an exhaustible abyss

Locked out from being known, longing just to be so, but words are no good and the sights are hard to hold

Like the old gnarled oak that is there all alone with its arms twisted up to the sky.

6.29 Free write

It doesn’t seem anymore like standing on a precipice wondering what we’re all waiting for

These songs only haunt me, of time ever erased but then it dies in the same place, and we can never go back again

We often think we’ve got nothing but time, that the days will keep coming and then we’ll be fine, but I see it so clear, then it is gone what once was here

No one’s getting younger, no one’s getting out, I keep on pushing under but still it pulls me down, The mind is fixated but I’ve chosen now my fate, for if I go to elsewhere it feels the same way

How do I change the belief when it’s so plain in front of me to the contrary, as though I’m not wired as most everybody is, a certain life a certain purpose but no means to make it worth it

Is all that’s left simply decay, how do we forget that we were made this way, how does one feign contentment with the same old routine, never actually reaching what means anything subjectively

Do we all feel the same as I at the end, or are they simply better at the playing pretend, with the anger of ten men I find my heart in the same state again

The same old whiny fucking story, as though I were the only one who feels that life is cruel, ironic, and boring

There is no suicide, there is no place to hide, go ask the Maker what it’s all about, the answer was always in plain sight, to love another and die to self

So why does it hurt so much more than death, why’s losing everything still not better than to never exist, who’s cut out for it, I shouldn’t raise my voice but I did

I can offer my hand but inside remains unchanged, while I understand that this life is only pain, there’s something violent inside I can’t seem to pacify

Its selfish to end your life they recite, self- centeredness and the question of who am I, relating most to the dead, going through the motions but never seeing what love is

You can’t touch it, you can’t feel it, while indistractable and filled with our secret pain, you could never get close enough to ease or take it away

Everything’s too fucking far away, what do I know, who the fuck are they, talking about love as though it eased the pain, when everything is felt to a degree that’s far too fucking great

Did they pull the trigger because they weren’t equipped, that it doesn’t work like they say and couldn’t deal with this shit, there are no saviors, you have to make yourself it, evidently I’m not strong enough and just waiting for the slip

I can try to get away from here, but no matter where I go I’m tailed by the fear, and the anger has me off a cliff with pedal to the floor and cold clenched fists

And it’s always staring me right back down, when I feel like I’m just going insane and I want an ending now, there’s nowhere to go, nothing more to know, no matter where inside you run, you end up right back where you’d begun

But with more wear and scars, more scared and hard, and we have a choice I know but is it the truth or just what we show, no, I don’t think anyone will ever really know

Who I am. Or all I tried to hide, because I couldn’t bear the truth inside, knowing life was all just a bunch of circles with nothing in the future but lies

Because they were fucking wrong. But let them be right. It doesn’t make a difference whether I choose a side

I can’t set my mind up this way, but I can’t live in a lie and I’ve tried the right way, so calculate your opinions and cast your cliches, but I’m suffocating and have held on for fucking ages

For what? For some relative shit they likely made up? For some foolish purpose for which I don’t give a fuck? Go on and play noble, but I don’t make the cut.