“Listen here!” lulled the prophet.
“You have the power to see
your future! You only need to widen your pupils
and absorb that which is possible.
Obey my words, and I'll set you free.”
Turning his back on the crowd, he left.
His words hung dryly in the air and left
anvils dangling over the legitimacy of the prophet,
and if the cost of his lessons were truly free.
Swiftly, zealots jumped into the crowd; prying eyes open to see
that which only the prophet could make possible,
and his message spread like wild fires ignited by his pupils.
Flames of disillusion reflected in the deep black pupils
of those few teflon reactionaries left.
Fighting against the binary of what he deemed possible,
they disavowed the prophet
because they could see
what he was teaching, was not free.
Hiding behind closed doors, he was free
from the chaos brought on by his pupils.
Prescience painted its electric vision, begging him to see
if he kept on this currents path, there’d be nothing left
of the people who listened so faithfully to their prophet.
Despite the omen, he continued down the path he preached possible.
Rebels against his vision took the only possible
actions available to set themselves free.
Casting aside the teachings of the prophet;
They sunk blades into their pupils,
knowing that in blindness, all that would be left
was their freedom to see.
Wrestling with his vision, he could not see
that fate had already chosen which path was possible.
There was only one thing left
to do if he wanted to be free.
Engulfed in darkness behind his locked door, his pupils
readjusted and rejected the reality that he was not a prophet.
He could not see that what he was doing wasn't considered free.
The only possible freedom is in the mind's eye, locked behind sight soaked pupils.
All that's left holding us back from awakening, are the lies of this false prophet.
Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 4:32 PM UTC
Just your body’s here.
Mind’s — gone for a walk. Elsewhere.
Pray you come back soon
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 7:50 PM UTC
This shelter is no place for you to be
I’ve heard many that stay too long will die
To save you soon I’ll take you home with me
The thought of life without you makes me cry
For you cannot take care of my person
Without giving your wild side away
I’ll give my life to hear your purr my son
I mean no harm by taking you today
I hold you now, even though you might hiss
Pray you’ll know your safe because I love you
And may your hiss turn into a soft kiss
To give you peace — nothing I would not do
You’ve warmed right up to your new home so soon
I feel that we're just like the sun and moon
Feb 18, 2025
Feb 18, 2025 at 1:45 PM UTC
A slant moonlight blessed our snowy predawn courtyard this valentine's day. Like a silent kiss, big and full, I let it guide my way. You lie asleep in our bed; a warmth I'm lucky enough to share for a few hours everyday. With you, my love stays home, tucked away under white satin sheets. How carefully you walk, as you cross my mind. Never running, so to not leave me too fast, only allowing enough warmth to thaw me out, until your next mindful visit. Thank you for giving me the heat and passion, which feeds the fire of my life. Happy Valentine's day my love.
—
Moonlit court yard snow
Valentines warmth can’t melt it
Only you melt me
—
Feb 14, 2025
Feb 14, 2025 at 9:35 AM UTC
An addict rarely thinks of themselves as an addict; but they’ve known pain. I've felt pain in the deepest parts of my body, and I've seen it dress others in terrible fashion. Some cry, some harm, some die, and some — numb. All hurt. Don’t watch an addict; they have an incredibly natural talent of transferring their pain onto you. The happy watch the hurt, and it becomes all they can remember. The addict rarely intends to spread their pain, but it's a flu — one deep cough and soon those they spend the most time with catch it too. I’d like to believe that I come home to you, asleep on the couch, reeking of a goosey binge, because it's your way of keeping me from seeing your pain — But as you lay there, in a half drunken slump, all I can see, is the very thing you're trying to hide. Addiction is the scapegoat. Trauma, depression, insecurity, and silence, they’re the real perpetrators. Mindless killers that prey on the vulnerable. The dredge from years of hiding problems under your tongue. They drip slowly into your life, until one day, you open your eyes, 6 feet under water — drowning, and all you can do is ask yourself, “How come I never learned to swim?”
---
Drinks only save you
Family mourns the living
Dehydration kills
---
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 3:06 PM UTC
My dreams of a warm snow day were thwarted by nature's other plans. On my way to work, my car slid down the same Wayne mountain which had imbued me with dreams of peace for today. The unkempt roads, covered in the slush of snow crushed by other poor souls trudging their way to work. Jobs who could care less about employees safety paved the way for my mood to reach the tipping point it's at. 2 minutes late to punch and my boss says it's my fault for not planning properly. Little did she know I had planned on them caring about me more than they apparently do.
---
On my way to work
Ice plots my likely demise
God plots otherwise
---
Feb 12, 2025
Feb 12, 2025 at 10:43 AM UTC
My therapist called today.
My appointment has been canceled.
My first thought? “Ironic.”
My luck has been **** lately.
My limits, tested.
My self esteem, drained.
My trauma, denied.
My thoughts wander — to a dream I had once — during my “service.”
I wake up in my squad bay, alone drenched in sweat
I hear a woman wailing from the bathroom
I run in — there’s blood, over flowing from the faucet, shattered glass blankets the floor
I look into the broken mirror, and see nothing reflected back
---
On a swampy night
the woman inside me cries.
—Part of me has died.
---
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 1:33 PM UTC
“Red skies in the morning, sailors heed warning”
Beautiful orange sunrise, from the top of this wayne mountain
Dress the new york city skyline in marmalade
Bring us the promise of a turbulent winters storm tonight
Save me from tomorrows trials and tribulations
Snow me in, cover me up
and I’ll find warmth in your frozen promise
---
Marmalade dressed sky
Peaceful mountain top sunrise
Chaos tomorrow
---
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 9:28 AM UTC
Today, a years-long claim got denied — again.
I have been fighting the veterans affairs office
for too much of my life.
Sitting here at a job that brings me nothing, I silently weep
inside about the battle that I have to continue fighting.
At my work bench, surrounded by strangers to my struggles
I’m transported back to my first encounter
with the hellish reality of life in the Marines.
His cries for help rip me out of my bunk.
With his arms locked, under the boys armpits and across his chest,
he drags him out from the squad bay bathroom.
We’ve been in basic training only two weeks now.
Fresh out of high school,
our friends haven’t even left for college yet.
Blood sprays from his neck.
He’s laid on the ground, and my hands, like bandages,
are around him now trying to keep his life inside of him.
I never knew how hot freshly spilled blood was.
I close my eyes, and pray someone will come save him
and me.
I was only 18
and so was he.
Hands, covered in life
It’s lost warmth — searing my skin
Save me from this hell
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 11:13 AM UTC
Once clean, white, and pure
Snow, shoveled into a heap.
Black, with the world's mud.
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 8:08 AM UTC