In empty pages and stark contrast the storm chased away the weak now alone I stand.
The hero a pawn truth cast aside for others cause .
We embrace solutions where no problems exist.
May the colors run red from forgotten cause and history be erased for the sake of all that must be forever mundane.
I wish only to drag you to the depths and leave you to linger where nothing but a child's logic can remain
In spider webs we threw are thoughts now tangled the words left to wither in passing days.
May we dance in empty halls to illuminate the shadows and create the ghosts for others to place there hopes of what never shall be again.
To silence the voice is but closing the chapter to spite the clear view .
Nothing stands a statue for the promise of tomorrows decay and the bastards will parade there ignorance as the simple minded spread a plague to which we are losing this battle.
I write for no one to read and all to judge.
Where's the laughter now the jester is asked in ruins of a kingdom now simply reduced to ruble.
I remember what you will never taste and you may judge but waters tasted pure beats the stolen verses and burrowed lines of a time I no longer care to understand.
And Time passed me as it will pass you just the same .
May the silence remind you of that which never was to be.
We all will know this place someday.
I listened to the sounds of a nights life as it was on truest display.
On yet another dead end night.
No deadlines, no friends to annoy, no voices to echo shattered thoughts together.
Long since had the audience grown cold and I simply deaf to their presence nothing drowns an ego worse than the reality's of a distant storm.
I listened like a ghost story.
A child's fears matched only by the amazement of what never could be and the night kept rhythm with my soul as emptiness washed the troubles aside for now .
Holds you closer than any lover shall.
We are lost to our thoughts and me just lost for the sake of being gone.
I enjoy my distance now the wolves can call but no longer do I feel the burden to run .
Nothing is as peaceful as knowing the hand doesn't have to yearn for the pen.
Simply let the thoughts go as they linger in seconds my hours were never wasted .
For what never was could never be lost.
Time tells me I'm done .
And the night simply speaks to me in gentle whisper of darkness .
Be bound not by shackles for now you are free .
Every drip from bleeding pen
will forever drop
into an ocean
of broken hearts and distant shores
drowning hopes and flailing flaws
Every line, a path to cross
detailing every love lost
Every hate turns into crime
presenting as a moment in time
failing are the words
sitting as wingless birds
as Winter settles
upon us under snow clouds
we allow to own us
Our words will ever fail
leaving a faint trail
that allows me to find you
but only if you speak true
Speak to me
so I feel rhythm
give my heart beat a rhyme
break me out of this prison
where words have failed me
I'm done being a prisoner
for committing no crime
And the old habits once that led to good times
are just now old addictions
it wasn't supposed to last
to see another day
now it's fifteen years.
With the scars we bare
the shackles sting
we forged a prison
only to never see past the bars
Empty scenes and the faces
I no longer recall
I'm beyond the edge
welcome to the abyss.
Fuck the greetings lets just start this
as strangers who have grown all to familiar to the flame.
The story is there I just don't care to recall.
Perhaps because you sit there
at the edge of a fiery pit
casting memories into a flame
that were never legit
mocking the chains that hold me
casting aspersions to the skies
when did you get so close
to Purgatory, held hostage
by others lies?
Unchain me from this misery
how so easy it is to forget
the path taken to Ecstasy
is scarred with arrowed hearts
something more scary than
Lost Love and littered with
bones of Regret
You know the story well
you feed the fire with it's ripped pages
As in wasted lies and tattered pages nothing feeds a fire like a good dose of delusion.
No more do I view the possibilitites, simply count the days and escape further into myself.
Sometimes we find within the depths there are no clear answers .
Sometimes locked within we find just more emptiness and nothing more.
Old tracks and new scars together keep company with stories
I care no longer to tell.
The page as it was before you is as broken as before we met.
Does it all ever truly change or just become as twisted and bitter as I?
Do we wish to re read old stories, those that shattered into glass?
Do we want to tell the same old tales? Should we even try to rehash?
Sitting in the darkness, tracing old scars, feeding the fire from pages
that are not who we really are.
Wishing we were progeny of those that had it good.
Thinking we are better than most but they misunderstood
that we stand in front of the fire, feeding it pages from our book,
never understanding all the mistakes that we took.
Never understanding that we listen to our conscious as we lay,
never understanding there was a price we had to pay.
We tell old stories out of the same old lies
In seconds and empty barrooms taking comfort in space
and drowning in distance .
We wore this disguise, we no longer can recognize our own reflections .
Sometimes truth is the only thing that keeps us from the destruction
all of it built upon lies .
The tides change, taken to a distant shore only returned like a message in a bottle,
discovered long past our time .
Why weather the storm when we always preferred it’s chaos my dear?
Old wrongs would be far easier if not feeling ever so right .
Sometimes you have to follow a dead-end for the pure hell of knowing.
And in that dead end we find the final passage of the book
Written in blood, scratched upon the walls,
tucked away in some hidden nook, in a corner
where we like to hide our eyes.
The final lines of a storm damaged mind, a wrecked soul cast upon a lonely
tide, the final words scratched into scars that wind around a body like a
The last three words scribbled in a bloody mess..
What a joke!
In empty crowds and fallen stars we often see only what gives us a much easier day.
Wine with regrets, hearts and barbwire confessions, none where ever as true as you .
Bleed those thoughts once more and we will pretend together .
This waltz is as clear as a sinking ships bliss
tell them all I've long since gone insane
Give my regards to your memories for I will burn in their illusions
till our Hell is left barren, no remorse suits the ash as does this bitter pill
and a never existent flame.
To hide what is so easily viewed now the scars we bare with such glee in a perfectly twisted display.
Give me no tomorrows promise for I only yearn for today.
I was alone deep within my thoughts lost in nature.
in other words passed out in the park as usual from a night of deep research and binge drinking hey everyone needs a fucking hobby okay.
I was just about to do some deep sea diving I'm kidding it's more like explore the hot tub with Jennifer Aniston and Lawrence hey I bought those goggles why not put them to some good perverted use right?
When all the sudden I was pulled from my wet dream utopia and brought to reality with some strange hamster dressed like a troll throwing bean bags at my head Jesus Christ this is why I stopped passing out in truck stops.
I banish you strange drunken wizard with a banishing spell .
he said as he kept throwing his strange little bean bags at me I tell you
you have to worry about a man playing with his bean bags in the park I mean sure that kind of shit flew in third world countries like Canada
but here in the states we had guns so we could protect areselves and go hunting cause who doesn't love some male bonding?
Or buying a A-K 47 to blow the living crap out of everything insight .
Fuck the woods it's filled with to many fury hippies to began with and what wall doesn't say high class better than some animals head on it looking like it just got prison raped.
Yeah it looks so natural and dead that is .
But enough with the foreplay and back to the bean bag throwing troll nerd .
Hey man your supposed to exit the playing field after I hit you with that dumbass .
The strange dressed nerd said then snickred to with fellow dork homies.
You got to love newbies they don't even know a level 12 troll God from a horny cave spider.
They all seemed to be smoking crack for they all busted up laughing at this strange little escaped from the asylum hamster.
I wasn't sure if I should just run or try to speak with these odd nerd folk they kind of of reminded me of Muppets on acid yeah that was a bad trip don't ask.
Boy I never knew Miss Piggy was such a slut or a gymnast.
Excuse me gaydolf
So is there so reason you woke me up or are you just off your meds and looking to throw your bean bags at the first drunken in semi coma person you find sleeping on a bench ?
Your not part of the game?
The strange little troll nerd asked me and from the surprise in his voice I could tell this weird little hamster was on some great fucking drugs once told me two things.
One I needed to dump these weirdo's like a truck stop burrito.
And two I had to find out who his doctor was cause I wanted triple of whatever this kid was having .
No sir I'm not part of a game or show unless it's being the judge of a wet t shirt contest cause I do believe in supporting the boobies.
Hey fuck the whales save the boobies they look awesome and who cares bout the environment duh there's sharks in there didn't you ever see jaws besides everyone knows I'm allergic to water.
That's why I drink whiskey its much better for you besides ever see flipper hop out the ocean for a bathroom break ?
Hey this dude isn't part of the realm were in he's just some old ass drunk.
Another strange hamster said to his Troll friend.
Oh sir I do beg your pardon here take this .
The troll nerd handed me a bottle .
Now this was more like it I kicked it back and tasted the most foul tasting shite I'd ever tasted in my life .
Dear lord man what is this shit! ?
Umm its called bottled water dude the troll replied .
I looked at the plastic container in a mix of total disgust and hell these kids were into some weird shit.
Water huh tastes like shit what the hells the proof ?
Umm it's water dumbass it doesn't have a proof .
I tried to grasp what the two headed tall one had said but was lost .
How could anyone drink anything not to catch a buzz what twisted sick little bastards had I run across?
I had enough of these strange garden gnomes shit I reached for my trusty flask a hit of some good old 80 proof trying to rid myself of the taste of this poison called water .
Look I do not even want to know what your nerds are up to but unless it involves some hot stripper elves a bottle of cooking oil and a twister game count me out.
Looking at me like most people do with that mix of confusion and a feeling like they needed a bath there strange leader spoke up.
Sir you have to understand we are larping and on a quest we simply confused you for another drunken wizard .
Well I can understand that my sexually confused nerd friend but I think you need to seriously go on a quest with me .
Your on a quest the troll dork asked lighting up like Taylor Swift after just stealing the soul of yet another misguided hamster and brainwashing millions in to believe she actually had talent or a soul I'm just saying .
Yes Gaydolf I'm on a mighty quest to get my magic staff blown by some cheap hooker but enough about my barely legal wife.
Yeah the internets filled with perverts and if you search long enough you might just luck out and find your very own hooker with a heart of gold or drunken long winded perverted bastard like myself .
Sir I have you know me and my knights of honor are true gentlemen why we need no pleasures of cheap whores we have the company of each other songs and campfires to drive are passions who here amongst my circle would like to follow this demented nut on some sleaze bag quest for the earthly pleasures of the flesh?
The little troll nerd turned around to see his round table of fellow weirdo's gone .
What the fuck!
We could here his cries as me and my new crowd of odd little dressed hamsters were off to the Hotseat strip club in search of booze ,Strippers and hopefully trick one of these naughty dancing hamsters into a quest play hide the sword in the well you get the point.
cause hopefully someone with some cheesy name like sparkle or Bambi or Candy would .
Sir Gonzo the strange looking Cyclops of my new entourage asked?
Yeah what is it amigo?
Do you not fear the wrath of the troll gods mom?
I mean she did bring us all here in here minivan and all.
Well my one eyed nerd friend in are quests you will learn many things there are to fear .
But nothing far worse than the river of fire that spews from thy staff after a goodnight with the wench of the back alley.
Oh no worries Sir Gonzo I have plenty of spell packs of penicillin .
Hey does dirty Debra still do that trick with a ping pong balls and a picture of Kanye Wests face?
We can only hope my one eyed friend you know I cant believe you know bout dirty Debra I said with a bit of surprise in my already getting there drunken lets get this fucking shitty arse story over voice.
Duh what do you think I am one of those twilight homos sir Gonzo?
My Cyclops nerd friend replied.
that night was epic we laughed we darnk we watched a Canadian cave troll totally make out with a Tranny from the magic kingdom Minnie mouse is such a freak and I know what your saying like the nut that wrote this shite isn't?
Thank you hamsters that truly means a lot.
Are quest was epic are night spoke of in nerds who dream only to grasp a dirty strippers boobies let alone snort coke off there arses .
I never saw my socially awkward friends again yeah I bet that troll nerd Billy Gates sits even now wishing he truly had grabbed life by the bean bag and sized the day I wonder what ever happened to him.
Stay Crazy hamster .
Always your Captain of the insane
Broken down more than I care to confess.
old roads and sweethearts of the moment the taste of bitter ends goes good with a bourbon and coke .
Blowing smoke rings across the room of some run down dive it's all part of just being me.
Tomorrow I will find good use for dark glasses and a one time call.
I'll see you in a week sugar I'm doing fine and other well intended lies just part of the drive .
Some good laughs and better drugs does it ever grow old boys?
I cant say it does but I dam sure have to late to turn back now.
A blues chord and some broken strings was it ever a choice for the gentle were never intended to understand one as perfectly wicked as me.
I been running taking shelter with whomever I can find .
Photographs of my thoughts like perfume that lingers only within my mind .
It's another journey ahead and some laughs between the vices yearn maybe it's just the urge to know we still feel a fucking thing at all are simply fuel to still make that page bleed .
Maybe you can share I have to many secrets so I guess I will just listen
with a drink in hand .
Moments last lifetimes cherish that place in which you can confide.
As the arts in the phases scattered cross dark corners and a shared embrace.
I have fallen from the mountain only to find myself on the other side again.
Watched friends fade and I still hold them true I drink with you even in your absence goddam the good will always keep my blind to the fucked up shit I no longer recall .
We run until the sunsets fade to repeat again .
Dust to bones forever the fool and always a fast friend.
I have survived it still I care to ignore the sign .
For that highway echo's something a promise can never truly deliver .
I'd stay here longer but the devils always only seconds away.
Maybe one day I will stop or maybe just hang around long enough to stick him with the tab.
Maybe it's not knowing what the fuck will happen or if you will even make it back to begin with that draws me like a moth to a flame .
Maybe I'm just so far gone and this is one step further from the edge and I know the madness will somehow keep me sane .
Headlights and strangers harsh faces echo my direction towards nothing and everything in-between.
The road is a lover whom never returns that affection and maybe that's why you only want her more .
Small towns paint my backdrop as I chase sunsets maybe we will share this view without knowing my friends and maybe my story will find its end.
I cant pretend to know the outcome I just embrace the tornado and laugh at the destruction nothing sometimes means more than any
trinket clenched like a anchor it only binds us to one spot.
I embrace the winds and challenge the storms .
I am the ghost whom chose to be a whisper.
A shared bottle now empty memories will paint my epitaph.
Tomorrow is a mystery and I only care to be part of this madness
Some questions are best left unanswered .
I will see you again my friends .
In his seasons passing words wither and fade with the sunsets reprise.
These images paint portraits with grey backdrops tattered, twisted throwing stones across the pond only to hear them vanish in the dark waters below.
All the pretty flowers fully in bloom untouched by earth and unsoiled in the dirt of corruption of an existence lived in regret.
Bitter pills and torn pages have we not traded are truths to be lies created for are own protective womb of deceit to fulfill our ego.
All the pretty flowers wither just the same.
As standing skeletons left only to haunt the backdrop of our thoughts decay.
Are we not monsters?, Who once stood as men with great views whose vices consumed them turning us into something we can barely recognize ourselves.
Soil once fertile now seems only scorched a barren square of emptiness once were all things did grow.
All the pretty flowers mourn springs passing this concrete idealism for which no direction seems to suit us best.
I stand where here no longer will anything grow.