I remember the telling signs, of the forsaken path I carved for myself at such a young age, hopelessly lost.

The night terrors with bed wetting, a curiousity for the pain of others, and an undying love of flames.

Triads are sacred, often depicting tales of both good and evil, where I fall somewhere broken in between.

I drank till my belly was full, of that sweet gasoline, a hair trigger away from immolation.

See fire was soothing, watching it all burn was the beginning of my perfect crooked world.

Burning bridges, burning friends, burning anything for no real reason other than a crooked smile.

This wildfire of a tortured soul was doomed the moment I met the truth.

Only existing in the ashes, that evil had given the breathe of life.

I saw them stare, right through me, never knowing what I was.

Hating them for it, for this alienation, I will always remember.

But this is but a fragment, of a fractured soul.

Each broken shard screeching in the night for control.

I have never known peace, just the madness.

We do not even recognize ourselves anymore.

Just faceless creatures, struggling  for singularity.

We bow to our king.

His fiendish broken crown.

Flashing his fangs.

He laughs.

Armageddon.

Lightning.
Crack.
Thunder.
I split.
Straight down.
Gazing up. I see.
The 4th Horseman.
Standing split, where I stood.
I see. The Beast. Proliferating in my absence.
The Horseman, crooked smile and evil gaze.
The Beast a chaotic shade of nightmares.
I lay, dying. Watching. What I refused to be.
I, existing in them. But now split.
I feel their darkness. I feel the burn.
They walk over to me. Throwing me aside.
They cackle in a blood curdling scream.
We exchange looks.
We embrace the end.

Alliteral allure.
Boundaries bottomless.
Controlled cantor.
Deities demonize,
Ethereal epiphanies.
Future forfeits,
Gravity's grandiose.
Humility heckles,
Indignant ideologies.
Jealousy's jungle,
Karated killers.
Lunacy's lovers,
Maddened martyrs.
Noise, never,
Only omens.
Purgatory persuasion,
Quintessential qualms.
Revenge, revenge.
Sultans suffer.
Tyrants terror.
Unilateral understanding.
Violent venom,
Worn wonderfully.
Xenogogue's xenial,
Youthful yearlings.
Zombie zealots.

Enter the vessel of 7 souls
7 Names crafted in ash
Rolling off sacred tongues
Dead languages given new life

The name of birth
Holds tightly to its catalyst
Strained in attempts to control
The ravenous hunger within

Abyss, forged in the darkness
From the whispers in my ear
The madness of childhood
Concieved in lingering shadow

Fiendish, the evolution
Insanity fueled nightmare
Manifestation of suffering
The true self of the mad king

Demise, father's reflection
Usher to the believers
Tricked by the twisted tongue
Murderer of dreams and innocence

Pantheon, the culmination of experience
Succeeding former capacaities
Far reaching to the fringes
Double-edged sword of progress

Obsidian, the lost one
Drifting into the empty spaces
The black hole of emotions
Always consuming ceaselessly

Legion, flagship of infinity
The millions within the singularity
Transcend the medium and grow
Violently, invade my madness

7 souls
At war
At peace
Slithering in my mind.

Let it sink in,
The hurt
And pain.
The hole widening,
In the sunken chest.

Manipulating hands,
Plotting to no avail
Ways, to mend.
Two decades,
Plus a lifetime of mistakes.

Controlling, hedonistic pleasure.
Opposing selfless, selfish.

The firestorm blazing,
Engulfing and raging.
Burn the bridges.
Point-blank, BOOM!

Phantom, blood born,
Dead to me.

Symptomatic time bomb.
Deluded delusions of ethereal projections,
A dissociated self of severe sorrow.
Louder now, the crooning calls,
The malevolent mayhem of voices.
Sleepless nights, onset insomnia.
A refuge from reality is lacking.
Dreams sent packing.
Nightmares walk.
People talk.
And time offers no relief.
Crawling inside, fear growing.
Fiendish thoughts, lethal insanity.
Scribe away, transference of pain.
Words trapped between pages,
A book of demons, all of them screaming.
Bound by a spine of mental failing.
Fold the latch, turn the key.
Bury this *******'s tale.
Rinse and repeat,
With each rising defeat.
And pray the delay of further tells,
These fortunes of the lost amd the broken.

All of a sudden, I too
Must go, to the unforgiving place
Where judgmental eyes burn
Where wicked tongues lash
Where blasphemy screams
All of a sudden, I too
Must go, to the unforgiving place
My words breadcrumbs to Peace

I remember you,
In the winter,  3am all those years ago.
It was freezing in the abandoned lot.
The cold iron barrel on your temple.

When you pulled the trigger,
There was no pulling through.
No grand victory over demons.
Just confusion in the lives you touched.

When you pulled the trigger,
Graduation didn't come.
College letters piled at the door.
Friends got a funeral instead of a party.

When you pulled the trigger,
You would never meet new friends
Inspiring them, nor be the shoulder old ones
Leaned on, empty feelings swelling.

When you pulled the trigger,
Your lover to be, lost herself.
The daughter was never born.
You never got to hear how you were her hero.

I remember that night,
Seared into my memories.
Of a champion, who wiped away the tears,
Said to himself no more.
Went home to his family who loved him.
Made life happen, and conquered
The depths of his own hell.

This twisted spine collapsed down on the world with vengence.

Its crooked maw could not decipher the slithering tongues of monolithic men.

I tore away at my flesh until she returned, beaded eyes white hot with fiendish intentions.

Sparatic jestures have been no strangers here, at this abode we endure, witnessing the violence.

Friends, foes, fiendish woes,
I kneel before the Universe.

The ability to adapt is the ability to survive.
Foolish me, attempting to try old catalyst.
The past is a faulty crucible.
The same tricks won't work twice.

In this foresight, the key is carved.
Inspired by the rites of yesterday,
But honed in forge of tomorrow.

The derelict, latency of change has arrived.
So have I, molded by will itself, to wield it.

Not an Alien
Just alienated
By myself
For myself
To myself

No friends
No family
No ties

I don't want to be like them.
Like the others.

I call out to the universe
Awaiting my summoning.
To be ripped and torn apart
Rippling through space and time.
Where echoes of my existence
Pass by in cosmic memories.

To my white allies

These messages

Are not for you

I see you struggling too

Admire the mire
Mind the matter

But dont wallow in worry.
For perception is pain.

Duplication is devious.
Smiles are sinister.

Bring on the beginning.
Endure unto the end.

Darkest are the days.
Nightmarish as the nights.

Ghouls of old gestalt.
Rise to revenge.

Time is taken.
Lord of lies.

Unreality had started to set in for weeks now.
And all the while knowing a simple sentence could cure;
I ran from the words that I feared to conjure.

Today I thought of the might of the pen.
While stronger than the sword, its duty is at its end.
Most of my writing is on screens and keyboards.
How many generations before its metaphorical might,
Is something that new writers lose sight?

These days, I visualize all words written, as reality's stitching.
A way to dress the wounds of waiting.
A way to hide from a world of my making.

In ritualistic insanity, the amnesiac begins to wail.
He hears the symphonic tune of damnation.
A wicked chord struck on a lyre of bones.
As tears flow, the pain sharpens, his fingers split, adding thick crimson curdles to death's hymn.
The weight is bore, lightless eyes follow the ache of mortal fatigue.
This sad creature screams his terror, as he remember his ode.
Played from his own marrow, from his own calcified soul.

Lets talk crazy.

The idea that,
Wanting equal rights and
Fighting for justice

Makes me insane
Drives me nuts

That you are backwards
And broken to percieve me
As somehow incomplete

And while I rattle on
Know that, being angry
That I watch people
That look like me
On the news getting killed
Is an appropriate response

Know that, being angry
That people who aren't like me
Get harassed, beat, ***** or killed
Is an appropriate reaponse

Think I'm outrageous or wild
Or something in between

But you want to talk crazy
Then I'm talking about you

The Sun was a no show.
Raindrops begin to bead off the brim of my straw hat.
This beat continues until it slurs into a stream.
The thought to leave never crosses my mind.
Downpours are downright hypnotic, magic made real.
The eye of the heart opens to the rain's musical incantation.
And there it stands, the doorway to infinity.
Inside is surely unknown, but to have the great beyond exist,
within the turning of fingertips is unreality itself.
I suppose the power of this muse lies in its mystery.
Yet still, I forge endlessly onward to annihilate the enigma of it all.
I'm sitting here, in the rain, watching these words turn about.

Just outside the sea stained window,
An ocean swells into divine ascension.

Blue heaven.
Blue hell.

The impending crash will never come.

The universe used to whisper dark melodies,
in the secret garden of mind.
Seeds were sewn with thoughts that were ravenous for the wicked sound.
Each idea bloomed into insidious beauty, humming a haunting tune of its own.

When dusk set on the infinite, the ghastly chorus set too.
Silence boomed, poisoning the life of creativity.
What grew now, was gnarled indifference, a green of dark envy.

Borderline blasphemous and a challenge just the same, a tune of antithesis finally became.
The garden sang its own song in finality.

My Master died some time ago

But he left me 'The Ways of White Folks'
And he taught me about 'Democracy'

I recall the 'Dreams' and the 'Dreams Deferred'
And how he sang 'I, Too'

With less than a hundred years between us
His lessons are the same

America for him was brutal
America for me hasn't changed

So with the words he left me,
I craft my trade in his name

With artful thought, I pay my dues
Studying my master, Langston Hughes

Physical exertion, that exhaustive feeling, pushing this broken body to its limits.

This is true freedom, for a moment all of the clutter unifies to defy annihilation

The whirlwinds of thought, ignite into a ferocious storm of gestalt intellect, racing to the end

Alas, the only goal on this horizon is a graveyard of   discarded memories, each step further until, all is forgotten

Fingertips reach out against the forgotten wood.
An old wicked tree, gnarled with memories.
It seemed only moments ago, each groove
and every ridge was known.

A palm outstretched delicately, hoping to feel,
pressed against the rot of fading time.
The wounds of the mind run deep.

The hand pulls back, steadies it’s rage,
erupts into useless follies.

And still stands no closer to remembering.

It's been raining 3 days now
I wondered if it would ever come.

At first just a drizzle, to usher the fall
The season of change is now a downpour

I don't mind it,
I've changed too.

Letting go is liberating
So I'll watch the raindrops
As they fill my world with beats
Syncopating the freedom in my heart.

Beautiful bearings of broken bonds
Bound, bewildered and bitter.
Break backs of blind behemoths
Being better, beating backlash
Booming boldness, and bombs
Brains battle blighted beast
Bribery brews boiling blood
Building bastions buried by bombs
Brought by belief, but betrayal beckoned
Bastille bells burdened by beheadings
Behold beginnings birth bloom.

If I had to choose,
I'd say I'm more a lover
than a fighter
Not that I do not
hate to love at moments
or that others I would
not fight the good fight.

While I don't love
a lot of people.
Days go where I
despise those around me.

I find that one perfect
soul never disappoints.
Darkest days are eroded
by the most simple light
from a being who
without an effort
became my beacon of hope.

When the hurricane
of hurt and suffering
strikes my heart and
breaks spirit.
While the world would spit
and step on every dream
I could muster. This beacon,
this tiny light.
Can repel the darkest
of nights.

This spark of hope.
As wonderful and blessed
as it is. Is also a curse.
For what once is light,
can become the most bitter
and powerful poisons
to the heart.
The strongest saint loses
sanity to his fiercest demons
with the absence of light.

The current of clouds flowed above in a stream of darkness on top of the deep violet vignette's of sky.

In opposition of this, a defiant sickle of moonlight joined the scattered street lamps.

Their small chorus of light illuminated the early morning for the wanderers .

It is a quiet time, before the Sun gives breathe to life.

Before dawn, serenity walks all the winding ways.

Eternity lives within these moments.

I woke up in the Mirror World,
Came down with flu, overslept,
Was late to work, I picked myself up,
And managed, as I often do.
But it was all a dream.

This one's a tad too close to home,
Though slightly askew.
Not the first time, won't be the last.
I skate just outside this reality,
Bending to its happenings.

The consequences, the consequences.
I wake up, slightly before my alarm,
I don't oversleep, but I'm sick, I feel it.
And I'll go to work and interact the same.
Carryout a reflected conversation,
Of a world that was just a dream.

All of this, while holding on to sanity.

White skin
Black blood
Devil's curls
Eyes that pierce

You couldn't pick me from the crowd
And say that I was black
But I'll be **** sure, you're aware of that

I've got a chip on my shoulder
With a furrowed brow
And vendettas whispered from the graves

Silence was compliance
Now I'm screaming loud

Hovering,
grey slow mist,
I hover slowly remembering each word
that was plucked from your mouth the night the
clouds came.

These words,
stolen from my heart.
Mind, makes decisions
followed by regret.
I watch you walk away,
as I’ve done so many times before.

My thoughts linger
watching you become nothing
but a memory made by
silver linings, and golden dreams.
I fear that even if I speak you won’t hear me,
tangled in poison ivy thorns,
I’ve lost you again.

Wounds open, again.
I take a moment
to reject this pain.
Fading as I drift away.
Breathe deep, a weight is lifted.
It hurts though, I’m half
of the whole that we were.

Here I am,
Caught between the shutter of
Memory, I hear a blue jay
Flapping its cobalt wings.
Clicking at me like your warnings
Of how you'd leave if I
Didn't love you the right way.
If I would only begin to want you
Out of the memories,
Out of right now, and into
The future.

The signs were there,
foreshadowed by cold,
distant mornings, crippled
by your escaped gaze.
Chilling my spine, your thoughts,
and desires left me,
in a state of hallowed truth.
Your beauty held back by
selfishness, my jealousy
poisoning your innocent
smile.

The black bird returns to the grove.
Its wings clipped, its pride stripped.

The black bird wretches a horrid chord.
Its song defiled, its depression wild.

The black bird offers a stifled dance.
Its passion shown, its fate honed.

The black bird finds a fractured peace.
Its freedom bound, its sanity found.

Born into a world
With an unfinished song
Each morning she caws
Singing her dismal tune
Syncing into my anatomy
A new verse for the unsung
I praise her dark wonder
For she is a wise sage
Teaching me the music of life
Preparing for the silence of death.

She fell without warning,
Time taking as it must, as it should.
And despite how the living grieve,
All exist to be taken, to move on

The histeria began,
Sister falls into a panic, foresight disguised as a dream.
Reality blends into inevitability.
The then was now.
Brothers stare silent, too young, too afraid,
And unable to escape their crippling fear,
That Death had come.

Her eyes, flickered as a fading flame,
Dying at the wicker's last breathe.
Her hands shook violent, as empty words poured through her head.
A son, me, the eldest, emboldened within this moment to take control.
She was leaving this world.
That much I knew.

But there exist that Dark Magic.
That abilities of the ******,
Aquired through years of suffering.
Not one's own, but the tears of life,
Gained from tormented innocents.

And such a power, in such a moment,
Was ultimately released.
Simple as a touch.
Death decays into Life.
She breathes, a mother returns.

Yet, I am burdened.
Weighed down by,
The scorn of my own corruption
Infused light.

I found myself alone
for so long on this path
blindly making my way
to these dark places.

Time passed and darkness grew
enveloping me in a cloak
of rage and fear;
thrashing violently all around.

There was no light to be found.
Killing me slowly,
my burdens left me to crawl
forward into the abyss.

With all hope lost
heart heavy, eyes closed,
with tremendous force,
a light shone onto me

The way illuminated
converging where they stood
dearest company, come to aid.
I found myself, whole.

A memory is just a story altered.
Every recall differs from the one before it.
The details will fade, though the essence remains.

An orator of the mind spins the tales,
Our experiences catalogue them.

The bitter ones grow even more bitter.
The happy ones grow even happier.

But this mind of mine refused my request.
Figuring some memories are best,
left behind.

And so in my unremembering,
I ponder the splendid and mundane,
that has all been locked away.

Emptiness cloaks me,
In a veil of sorrow.
Blinding me from
Sharpened daggers cutting
Deep, painting my soul.

Fragmented into the
Little nothings that compile
Into my gestalt consciousness.
A whole greater than
The sum of my broken pieces.

Rain clouds roll in.
Bathing me in warm downpours.
Cleansing away crimson,
Reminders of days past.
Water trickles through
The cracks in my bones
Gently caressing my wounds,
Retelling warstories, whispering
"It will be okay. "

Devilish blue eyes, frozen gaze.
Influencing me against my will,
Submitting into dropping defenses.
Overcome with an inability to escape,
I become bound by those piercing eyes.

Sapping once kinder thoughts,
Replaced by detached isolation.
Shuttering at the crack of the whip,
Blindly I walk to death.
Carved flesh ammunition against
You, weakness exposed.

Lacerations to the heart exchanged,
Milky fog clouds my oppressor.
Pieces held together by hatred,
One blow away from cracking.
Further into broken self.
All freedoms come at a cost.

Crimson drew down his arm tracing the serrated skin which once stitched me together.

When I left him, as a boy, I cursed him. Much as I do now. Hate heavy, black blood released.

The anger of the child was misread, miscalculated. How could they know? That I, insidiously twisted, corrupted his blight less soul.

From my prison I heard his cries, sweet screams saturated the silence as he trembled.

Frozen, the blade was unable to pierce his flesh, so I pushed him, and he carved away

The shackles broken, I returned to the mantle of deceit and buried him with the others, voices fragmenting into the night.

I close my eyes in crowded rooms
Filtering through the voices
Each telling its own story
Some booming with laughter
Others soft and sweet
Then those ridden with terror
In a visionless world
I enter these tales
Taking role of passive observer
Into the auditory jungle

Every torturous moment
my being presses, pushes
against body from
within.

Peeling back skin
Tearing away at flesh
Agonizing pain numb
to the pulsing, raging.
Failing at all turns
At leaving this
wretched form.

Cursing the Gods for
damning me
to this hell.
A prison of humanity
Maddened in a cell.

Desires seep through
poisoning the world
around me, toxic.
Radiating on the sole
thought to escape.

Imagine, glass body
Rich and full
Of reflections, call it character
Worn and cracked over a lifetime
Once smooth, replaced with sharp ridges
Cutting those who attempt
To wash away sins

Blow for blow against this cold world
Equal parts damage dealt
And recieved.
Accumulation of battle scars
Leaks an absolute darkness
A radiant aura of poisin clouds.

Hit hard and hit back harder.
Asking for the final blow,
Over the edge and out of control.
In a resonating scream
Shards of flesh burst into light
Twisting with bad vibes
Reborn, arise full and tempered.

Violent verdant windows of shattered glass,
Sharp walls of flesh illustrate the oozing of lust.
Beneath the anguish of sillouettes and glammer,
Lie the wolf’s gazing demand for power.

Crimson crowns carry the stench of death,
Flowing deep from within the cavern of man.
The belly of this beast utters Hell’s Horizon,
A howl of sadistic victory and damnation.

The sea, peaceful. Quiet.
Beneath, thrashing
an undertow unseen.
Dragging victims to
the depths.

There is me, silent.
Just a man. Humanity
is my shell
I am a wolf in
sheep's clothing.
A caged bird, with
a violent tune.

None are safe in
this world from,
true nature. Be it
the storms that crash
against us. Or the
Tempest raging within.

I wrote a symphony once
in the dying light of my mind.
It was beautiful,
brought tears to my eyes.

The profoundness led me through corridors,
there I was lost in madness.
Enveloped in my experience
onward I traveled.

Tearing at my flesh, talons pierce me.
Darkness, my friend, always there
destroying mind and body.
Tainting my soul, its poison,
Slithers through my veins.

Halted at the edge of my journey
This evil holds my heart hostage
grasping harder and harder
light is clear, yet I am stone.

Pride destroyed, beaten
by fiendish devotions.
Door closes, pain paralyzes.
My humanity shatters like glass
Leaving reflections behind permanently.

The trees burn eternally
In the woods where I stay
I sweat through the hellish daylight
And retreat into the night
The charred forest is my sanctuary

I see you glowing in the constellations
I reach out to trace the stars
like the scars down your spine,
I remember watching the embers pierce you,
tears running down my face, I catch them like leaves.

Born from the ashes of deceit
I've always existed in a cursed flame
Always melting away the wounds
Which remained hidden in combustion
A loud presence, never going quietly

Watch as the roots we came from shrivel and die,
My heart beats with the rhythm of a spinning earth,
Never stopping, always spinning,
Your voices tangles in with the breeze and branches,
And remembering you is as loud as when I stand alone.

What madness, the woods are on fire
I inhale the rage and I too am engulfed
Pieces of me become lost in cinders
Voices howl in the fiery storm
It's nonsensical, but they know
New seeds grow, resistant to the flame

Love takes time
Time to tear down
The false Gods
Polluting ambitious minds

Love at first sight
A dangerous ideological pathogen
Killing the truth in patience and effort
Ignorant to fleeting feelings of vulnerability

Love is surrounded by a toxic cloud
Breeding unhappiness and failed expectations
Quarantine zone and hazmat suits
A requirement for the truth about love

Been feelin dead
Little pieces of light
Fade everday, I think
That I'll be dying
By my own hand
Or by another
All this hate taking aim
I painted myself the target
Speaking for the voiceless
The oppressed, who are mocked
Too sensitive, cry babies, get over it
Run some dirt in those wounds...
Ahh but to be one of us, surely you
Could never understand. With egos so
Fragile, you fall apart when privleges
You so firmly deny are threated.
I'm not long for this place, this space
This mental state, this cultural
Holocaust. I'll see my way out,
Thats a guarantee.

The fires have razed the city
Pitchforks, picketers and angry mobs
Marching through rubble, the dust hasn't settled

The whispers ask so many questions
How? Why? What?
But this storm is done talking.
They shouted from the bottoms of hell
They shouted as every ear turned deaf
Words of peace, words of want, words of need
This fiery inferno is words of the unheard
The violent night of the voiceless has begun

The fires have razed the city
Pitchforks, picketers and angry mobs
Marching through rubble, the dust hasn't settled

A grand gateway, reaches
Towards heaven, burrowing
Into hell itself, resides in ridicule
To an immortal being, in mortal flesh

Nightmares are cocktails for truth
Incantations to shatter bones into keys
Padlocked manipulation and deceit
Failed attempts echo in magnitudes

Both sinister ploys and moments of joy
Ripple into cracks, teasing of another side
A truth for the ancients, beings without moral
Fathomless worlds of nuetrality and power

If ever for a moment, and not a moment more
These shockwaves of the mind come shattering
Blowing down this door, screaming rage and ruin
Then I will be free, of the chains which bind me.

Skyward gaze, flash floods
Rain comes hammering down
Third eye closes, defenses rise
Not from an enlightened truth
But from the mutilation of war
Waters rush, beneath silent footsteps
A thunderstruck race to the end.