Sometimes when you win you loose,
so hold on to all your *****
to sedate the hate
you've grown too tired to iterate

and as you hit the snooze to suppress the state of alarm within you
remember...

where've you been
what has hurt  and
what has elevated you to love and light beyond mundane normality


there is pleasure in pain
and pain in pleasure

sanity in insaneness

it's all just a dream,


only the mind sees in black and white
open your eyes to colors of possiblity
and feel the depth of senses completely  immersed in the experience of life...

for the way i see it,
there is not greater tragedy to reach the end of life without tasting the ecstasy of life itself ,
to die in a trapped mind, running on outdated information is the very
predicament know as the human condition

a poem, oh a poem
what shall I write
if I am to write at all.

about me?
about you?
what’s the difference  ?

about life?
about death?
i can’t seem to tell them apart

about love
about hate
it’s not so black and white

why write at all
one might ask
as they stumble through life
begging for the answers
while cursing the questions.

why even bother
one  might ask
as they stare into the
abyss of their laptop screen
in the lonely stillness of the night.

what is it all for
one might ask
as the pain swallows them up
stubbornly refusing to   regurgitate
whats left.--------------


why?,
you ask....

sorry, i can't help you with that one

anger was tabooed to death.
but it never meant to hurt anyone
it only wanted to protect ....
After the funeral someone had to replace the  job.
after the burial of the emotion
depression moved into office

There's a nightmare in my mind

I don't see the world through ****** eyes
I see through  distorted lenses that  
make me blind to beauty and understanding

I hear through  biased ears that make me deaf to the music
of joy and love

I experience not what's out there but what's inside a misled mind....

it's like your mind is swimming in a labyrinth cave on the bottom of the ocean.....it's cold claustrophobic, confusing...it feels like you your slowly running out of oxygen.

[inspired by Edgar miller's ["Turning River Street into a River"]



Worse than falling down

it's like falling in love

where even misconceptions are illusion

where falling through the hole painted on the ceiling is easier than you'd think


Falling flat through life with no intentions or regrets

poisoned  my soul with harsh belief

that existence could be so narrow, dark, and descending


Worse than falling up

 is falling flat.

So when you step off the last dead end of the world 

will you fall up, into the light, or

down into the dark?


For in reality, there is no such thing as falling flat

I don't trust anyone
because everyone looks like a ghost
These are not people that I see with my eyes.
Their interactions are surreal.
transparent phantom creatures floating by me, doing things I don't  understand
and  strangely being so busy about
I don't see the purpose of any of it.
I feel  disgusted and confused,
watching it all from miles away.

I'm no longer in the sea with all the other fishes.
I swam to the shore
and now I'm on my own island.

Immersed in a pool of pain
Head underwater
one forgets what oxygen is
Its a morbid kind of  funny you know——  how long someone can drown for
that after a while one forgets that one is drowning

I look in the mirror and I see a ghost
"Who am I?"
i Ask the ghost
The ghost shrugs  and turns away

I feel inside out.

As if the inside of my flesh is exposed and vulnerable to the outside world,
susceptible to people and circumstance who poke and **** as they often  do- perhaps to test resilience.

Well what if I don't have the strength to endure?
What if it wears on me? drains me? kicks me around?

What if i don't want to get back up after I fall?
What does that make me?
Weak?
Un-stoic?
loser-like?
sensitive?
vulnerable?
tired?
apathetic?
finished?
socially suicidal?
in denial?

If i resist so much and close down so much and let my world shrink so much until i back up into the tightest corner that existence will allow,
until i resist life itself and contemplate death as a alternative to "living"

who am i after the image i've strived to maintain ever since i was taught to upkeep one is utterly obliterated?...

When I'm stripped down to my most basic layer  of inherent humanness

who am i?
Who am I!?

*WHO THE **** AMM I!!!???