I don't mean to tile a question
But that's where I'm at
I don't know any further than that

©2025

A flicker of hope
Can light up a room
Or light the abused fuse
Of the next round of doom
Nothing's off limits here,
Seemingly not now,
Though known to many yesteryear
"I don't want to assume,
So what won't it consume?
The people
And nature,
The planet,
The moon?"
It's all going to shiit
It's confusing now
But can't talk about it...
...it's always too soon
So I sit in despair
For death I dare swoon
What I want
And what I want
Threaten to draw at high noon
Center stage of a one man show
Left to dance the art of war alone
Under the light of a pale moon
As both lover and goon
Hoping it'll all be done soon

©2025

You left me
With no future
Just the torture
Of our history

©2025

Have you ever said,
Even internally,
"I AM FUUCKING DYING!"
Wanting it to be true but it never comes
So you find that you're innocently lying
What it this?
Deaths missed kiss?
Life mocking my last wish?
Am I not allowed some kind of bliss?
Common questions
That have passed through many a mind and uncountable lips
But ask for the answer
And find emotion rear an ugly head creating an eclipse

©2025

Is she jealous or angry?
That's the whole daamn thing
She's jealous for sure
The rest is her projecting

Find me laughing
Because it's so fuucking predictable
The "everyday" is everyday
But does that make the ending avoidable?

That's surely a possibility
But I'm not allowed to say I want to end it
Though the heart strings search out the fingers
Are those thoughts event independent?

I hate to admit it
But relationships are just a buffer
Maybe only a classic bowling lane bumper
Because you'll hate to know that know I am no longer finding that I'm stuck here
...

®2025

Whatever will be, will be
I guess that's what they call certainty
A vague destiny
But where does that leave you and me?
A collective we
We'll have to wait and see
Due too love messing with thé
Predetermined story

©2025

How does one break free of the cage that they themselves are?
When do you become something other than the accumulation of yet another scar?
I am me, but who am I,
Not to the world but simply to myself?
Why is everyone else's
Description of who I am just a laundry list
Of obvious and subconscious
Cracks in my mental health?
What could I tell a younger me
That would change the reality of his destiny?
He would have to see all I had to see
But without tragedy would I even recognize me?

©2025