I’ve hidden sermons inside my casual breath.
I folded them tight, pushed them into sarcasm.
We laughed at the joke—you missed the ambiguity.
Some words don't quite hit until their form leaves a chasm.

Some things we call unstable, unkempt, or unfit—
Become the relics we look to once their time is gone.
No one hears the meaning of a prophet mid-scream,
But we quote them in the wake of their truth breaking dawn.

Some of us never even ask to be understood,
We can only hope to echo in someone’s afterthought.
Because truth isn't loud—it’s subtly dissonant—
So it's often mistaken, or ignored, left to rot.

I live like a myth half-believed by its maker.
I pulse in and out, like static through wires.
My silence burns louder than sermons of choirs,
In golden temples built upon sinful desires.

I left signals in inkblots; on letters I couldn't send.
And in the way that I’d pause before saying goodbye.
Hoping one day you’ll study those absences closely—
Hope they sing you my song when I can no longer try.

Because I once left my heart outside in the rain
To see if it rots, or if a new one would sprout.
Turns out, it likes to sing—but it only sings backwards,
And only to those who try blocking it out.

This left me so lost, that I swallowed a compass
Just to feel something real pointing at a real me.
But the needle kept swaying like my body always does.
Some directions have been tested, but some are still yet to be.

If you were to ask me what my words really mean,
I might say, “What makes you think they must mean anything?”
Because meaning is a parasite; it only lives when it’s fed—
And I’ve been deliberately starving it to death, beautifully.

There’s a hallway in me that will never lead out—
It just loops on itself to ensure you're always alone.
The paradox is fixed. You can’t change its course.
You’d rather tread it blind, but it demands being shown.

I once carved my bitter truths into the air.
Wouldn't see them, but you’d cough, And know they were there.
You’d call them smoke and you'd call me unstable.
You’d ignore the intention or might not even care.

And maybe I am filthy, misbegotten, and unstable.
But when my tremors stop, you might see my real frame.
And the glow that I buried might finally surface.
Then you might love me for the darkness you'd shamed.

You might quote this cleanly, rinse my words of the blood.
Say my signals were sent from the God in your head.
When you quote my sonnets, you might guild them in gold.
Oh, I promise—This all sounds much better when I’m dead.

Adrift in between—the breath and the break.
Muffled by silence. The real feels fake.
Visible ghosts pay invisible costs—
In search of myself, I found myself lost.

A stranger arrives. Identity wanes.
We share the same pulses that surge through my veins.
Observe my duality—tell me, who's true?
The body you saw, or the energy you knew?

Without the observer, I'm held out of phase.
I fill empty space—with more empty space.
You glanced in my direction, collapsed me to light.
I fell into being, from quantum-bound heights.

Euphoria sleeps. I dread my own wake.
Time ticks while I shake and my thoughts dissipate.
Here I am again—my lowest of highs.
Collapsed, but still standing, still living these lies.

I flicker between a phantom and soul.
Wholeheartedly hollow. I burn without glow.
The past still hums beneath thinning skin—
A whispering echo that calls out my sin.

Step in too close, or just take a look—
I quietly fold, closed up like a book.
The script rewrites its endings to shift,
As I drift, unwilling, through reality’s slit.

One path offers clean, another brings filth.
I exist just as is—your perception brings guilt.
Not welcome to be—medicate me to align.
Would you believe it’s your doubt fracturing my mind?

These moments go slow—I cope to feel new.
But each time I stitch, my seams just undo.
I’m a fracture. A wreck. Pathetically alive.
Until the next time I hide—from the gaze of your eye.

With the stillness of the void, I failed to exist.
My silhouette rips away flesh from its mist.
My silence, my shelter, my singular state.
It whispers my secrets, my truths, and my fate.

In these depths of thought, as righteous as sin,
Another me was synced with the symphony within.
This void, was a canvas, our souls were the art.
Revealing dualities of my mind and heart.

Synchronized, and pure, I could finally sing.
I longed for the closure I knew it would bring.
Here in the black, I have Vanished, but whole.
In the infinite horizon, the home of my soul.

The silence, we keep so our secrets can dwell.
'Til the day we escape from the gates of our hell.
I'm tethered at the soul. We exist hand in hand.
Protecting an existence no one would understand.

In the quiet of my conscience, you'll find the true me.
As infinitely clean as the energy, I'll be.
A realm I created to keep my heart from the cold.
where my dreams hold the proof, I'll eternally grow.

In sync with my conscience, from the void, hummed a tune.
It called me from beyond the dark side of the moon
And as I would chase, id no longer feel.
Heard a whisper of truth say, "Reality is not real."

I felt the earth breathe in my synchronized state.
Two beings witnessed one that shared the same fate.
Our emotions flew freely in the nothing. Enigmatic.
We embraced the obscure. We are lost in the static.

In quantum subconscious, the dark and light blend.
Throwing every shade of me as but one with no end,
Not dull and not bright. Not filthy nor clean.
There's black and white but we both existed there, in between.

Our silence would scream. Ripped fabrics grew seams.
As sleepless as I am, in this void, I have dreams.
I whisper to the ether, and it whispers back to me.
I've escaped all that is, to embrace, what will be.

Without understanding or concept, or beliefs,
I silently listen as the universe speaks.
I've seen another me in the nothing. Enigmatic.
living in the obscure he found a home in my static.

I've melted between the cracks of time.
Lost and found, dead and prime.
A ghost, a man. My fractured twin.
Collapsing as the light steps in.

I am only real when I can be seen,
Existing as nothing in moments between.
An echo that’s held in quantum breath.
Inevitable, superposed, ego death.

In the quantum rift, I’m free yet bound.
I'm dead but prime, lost and found.
Through a quantum fate, I twist and bend.
Observed, I mend just to break down again.

A visible ghost of a once kneeling king.
In the moment I was seen, I had lost everything.
Outside of perception, I exist in-between.
Fluctuating from the seen into the unseen.

Through one slit I'll grow. The other, decay.
But I am all. In all ways. The blood in my own veins.
Observe me as I am—I expand to retract,
Observing creates realities and I'm never looking back

Do you even truly know? Which "Me" is the true?
The matter that you saw, Or the energy you knew?
I'm an infinite soul, in quantum’s eternal high,
Reduced to a dream, in the gaze of your eye.

© Derek 'Abraxas'

I have no guidence.

Searched on every summit
for some lost elusive cure,
and for the alchemy to make
me feel like I was pure.

Violently, I've torn through
the marrow of all I am,
begging every single deity
I've known for their hand.

I have no peace.

Maybe healing will never surface,
Maybe muffled by the sand.
A doctrine for the hopeful,
Who will never understand.

Wounds have always held
Daggers that were never removed.
What if pain protects the heart
Because it never is renewed?

I have no harmony.

Singing broken hymns can birth
another's hymn of praise.
Unspoken cosmic laws that state
Examples must be made.

I am never truly broken,
I can wish to be in time,
But I remain a quantum sonnet,
That is void of any rhyme.

I have no exit.

Maybe there is grace that lives
Within my wilted plea.
In knowing, I'm exactly
Who I knew I'd always be.

In a life of pulling chains,
Tethered to a hopeless mind.
What is left within a soul,
To see a purpose that's divine,

Without the residue of ash
From embers charring bone?
Without emotions echoes,
That have turned it into stone.

The cold sweat of empathy
For the fellow misbegotten.
Or wihout the twitching nerves
Of a body that is rotten.

I have no dreams.

I cannot find belief in me
For false restoration.
No longer a beggar for
A hollowed-out salvation.

I walk with aching fractures
To a rapture born in rust.
A fate I feel deep in my core,
That all is made of dust.

I have no reasons.

What's the purpose
For this riddle I weave?
Is there truth in what remains,
Or is truth in what will leave?

As I stand, a withered body,
weeping now without a plea.
I am all I ever was,
All I've known I'd ever be.

I have no future.
​

I waver within my waveform’s depth,
A flicker lost in their measured sight.
They've named my lapse, a sound minds death,
When I witness all darkness bend into light.

A mirror stands between my thoughts,
it splits, refracts, then realigns.
So, they call me fractured, I'm just overwrought,
When I study existence expanding in time.

My tethered shinning of shattered hues,
Paid observers stare blindly to tell.
They label my state. They say they're "breaking through",
Not keen to the fact our perceptions do fail.

My essence flickers, I'm framed in their glass,
A particle, turned quantum wave, now undone.
Charting my patterns, they look down as they pass.
As I know, every wave will collapse into one.

The observers, they write their same repeated script,
Equations in ink are reducing my place.
But I'm more than their words can ever depict,
A paradox they know, their own minds could not trace.

So...
With your ink's certainty, tell which of us is "off"?
Who truly knows this pleromatic-scape for how it's meant?
Explain how the quantum can tell lies in its flux.
Say I drift and dissolve? KNOW, I'm standing unbent.

There stands a "scholar," A pen pushing bot.
For their status. For their wealth in a check at week's ends.
I'm a wave that was created by divine creative forces,
With a rare mind born from divine, purposeful accidents.

Seeking embrace of the azure expanse,
A dreamer sought warmth, the value of trance.
With wings of hope, towards the sun he soared,
Seeking a freedom so deeply ignored.

Ambition seen sinister, but yet, of youth's call.
To rise above, and never to fall.
The heavens wept, for they knew his price.
For a flight too close to their own paradise.

The mournful sea watched, as his feathers deveined.
Embracing a dare, courage unrestrained.
A tale not of folly, but of a spirit so free.
A reminder of hope against fragility

In his descent, I see my reflection.
A shared desire of unbridled direction.
Not a tale sinister, nor of scorned flight,
But a hymn to the ones still chasing the light.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦