Little Silhouettes

The shadows are calming

The light upon my face

To aide in covering


Impossible struggles

Heaviest fears

The minds desires 

The everlasting tears


Until I cross the line

Into the parallel universe

I will remain in this mad world

embracing the shadows

View's Full Portfolio

To Become

Society's filled so dark
A sickness fit to last
A hasty hungry shark
A one that bites the glass

The air turns a poison mist
and the grass turns to a distant waste
A glare becomes a fist
and then a flower becomes erased

The Poison In You

What if I wasn't like you?

And I was just me, and Myself was true?


And if you did bad would it mean I would too? 

Would it mean if I did it, I'm exactly like you?


Would I be subject to your evil?

Would I be subject to your internal upheaval?


What if I am good in spirit,

And you might just rather not hear it


And if I did bad, does it mean I'm just like you?

Looking for an excuse for the culprit that causes blue?


Decisions left to baseless comparison

Myself gone from me, and origin

She tells me so, I'm just like him and her

Do you see my other qualities as just a blur?


Bring my poison, she admits me to it

Determines me as someone else and then she sits


Then, who am I?

A continuation of your deranged views, someone elses cry?

rummage sale




sometimes I can spend an hour 

rummaging through my mind,

trying to place the right word,

or phrase,

like finding the perfect picture 

for a certain room.


some days, the same words

reappear again and again,

and I don't know what I want more,

to know the answer why the same word keeps reappearing,

like an old flame that needs to put out,

or to finish the poem.



I have always loved a warm hearth,

so I usually always finish the poem.



A Web of Life

Disenfranchised, discriminated, decapitalized

Disorganized, dominated, doomed,

The middle pushed to the margins,

The margins, influencing the middle.

The right is right, the left wrong,


A web woven of similar work,

Yet the fly does not see the web infront,

He is merely trapped in the web,



But yet the web is his death.

He struggles to get out, but the web’s grip is too strong.

He waits to die, struggling to get out of the web, but as he struggles it continues to wrap around his body further.

He is now consumed.

He’s in the belly of the beast.

Dead, consumed. 

My Darkness

My darkness is consuming

It eats away at my core,

My heart, my head, my body, my thoughts,

Are consumed by the internal depths of a dim and rusted light.


Past, present and future clouded in the gloom of a mad scientist.

The pains of being an originalist,

The sorrows of being an exceptionalist.


My darkness is consuming,

It devours my past into pointlessness,

It demonizes my present into bleakness,

It develops my future into illness


Although my darkness guides my light,

My light can shine brighter than before when the curtains hadn’t closed.

I'm assured everything will be alright,

That I will indeed see a brighter light than before.


But while my darkness consumes me,

I see only the dark me.

I see the darkness of my reflection that taunts all of my thoughts, feelings and behaviors.


For right now, I am not me,

But a moment of myself,

That will inform the moments ahead on how precious things could be.


My darkness is my best friend,

Whom I would gladly murder,

But perhaps in another life,

Since my darkness is me and

He must heed to me eventually.

Feeling vs. Knowing

My heart hurts, my brain pounds, my blood boils,

The anxiety of my mind is unbearable,

But the frustration is, I must bare it, I have no option.

I am left to the vices of my brain.

A brain that tells me to suffer, rather than to enjoy.

It tells me I am useless, unaccomplished, inarticulate,

I believe I am worthless.


Although, I know my objective worth.

But knowing and feeling are two very different things,

A barrier that we all face, and at times, perhaps more intensely than other times.

Right now I write with a defective vocabulary, scrambling for words when I normally find too many,

I struggle through this simple entry, as I struggle through the simplest of things.


I am told my worth,

I remember my accomplishments,

I enact my uses and know many others,

Yet what is knowing?

For, feeling is dominating my very core.

My life is riddled with the complexities of feeling,

Where rather than living, I feel.


I feel through this moment of my life,

When I had never had to feel to such an extent before.

I pray for this pain to end,

I pray for my hope to return,

I pray I will be able to apply what I know,

But I know prayers are no use.

They have no function to an atheist.

But yet I pray in a way that really mimics hope.


I hope my hope returns,

I hope my pain subsides,

I hope I can further apply what I know.

Although I know this pain is just a moment in my life,

The pain is real.


I am looking forward to the light.

Self Expression



You, me, people,


I could be mistaken,


Because I have been,






I do think,


That people have a right,


To inflect a smidgen,


Or a bit,


Or a touch,


Of their personality,


Into all they do,


And too,


They have, at the same time,


A responsibility to,


When in conversation with others,


For reason of accomplishing a task,


Or even just enjoyment,


Or making small talk,


To acknowledge to some degree,


The other person's personality,


And assess to it, a like or dislike,


And either chuck it, 


And focus on the subject matter 


Of the conversation,


Or enjoy it as they choose,


But certainly not allow 


For your like,


Or dislike,


To control or influence them,


In their evaluation process


On a given topic, and then 


Take out aggression 


On an individual


For their inability to


Place their feelings


About one's personality aside.





But alas! There IS a viable solution


For such individuals, which would be,


To purchase one dozen eggs,


Because if someone's personality


Bothers you, you can then 


Remove one from the carton,


And suck on it, 


And if it breaks,


You still have 11 more,


Just be careful of the shell.






9:32 PM 6/20/2013



An Expression Of Love

I am gravely sorry
That you hold pain within you.


We share love,

Whether you choose to accept it
In your reality or not.


I am empathetic towards your pain.


I am not a psychiatrist.
I am not a psychologist.
I do not know how to control your delusions,
Only you know how to do that.


I do know this.

When you can clearly see,
That keeping your mouth shut,
Instead of opening it,
Is hurting far more people
Than it is helping...'s time to open your damn mouth.



05/19/2013 10:04 AM ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

We all choose our delusions in life.