Consistently inquisitive,
Of phenomena greater than man,
Searching for the solutions unknown,
Intuitive is forever my brand.

What happens when man,
Reaches beyond infinite measures,
When we meet below the abyss,
When society succeeds in endeavors?

The very curiosity of being,
Makes being all the more wild,
Dreaming of the unlimited,
Exceeding our endless multiverse.

Evolution or creation,
Big bangs and natural selection,
Why blue and red turn purple,
Or hot becomes cold on an axis?

A whipper asking why,
To questions that wallow in sunder,
We contain desires to seek the truth,
But will always be left to wonder

A primary source of pain is the truth,
though the truth shall set you free.
An addiction beyond recognition,
there is something dark deep inside me.

Inanimate white evil,
has stolen he who is I.
My soul needs cleansing,
Am I close to where I die?

With knowledge comes wisdom,
and wisdom is beneficial.
But knowledge of this darkness,
The last thing I am is superficial.

Reality is no longer near,
As my sinuses fail to clear.
The darkness was formed by choice,
And to die is what I fear.

As the lights rapidly flicker,
While my mind starts to shut down.
Like a married couple who bickers,
There is no peace,
In my own blood I will drown.

The light calmly dims,
The rhythm of the monitor straightens,
And a continuous beeping noise trims,
The sound of silence in the room.

In the name of the father, the son and the holy ghost,
Whoever snorted the fastest got the most.
But was it an escape from reality?
Or reality escaping from me,
I am now forever gone,
But the darkness will linger over my family.

Ditty dum, ditty doo,
Dozens of dollars disappeared,
Foolishly spent on that dame,
I would have done a dime for,
Had her dumbness died down.

Not a lick of lint in my pocket,
I reflect on our dances in the dark,
Daringly caressing her body to mine,
All of those dimes been daunted,
By my need to woo and wow her.

She had darted the way of the dime,
Out of sight, out of mind, out of spirit,
In the poverty of love and coinage,
I wallow in my woes,
As if I didn’t do this deed to myself,
Doomed from the depths of doting,
Like a ******* dodo.

They say chivalry is dead,
Yet is there nobility in poverty,
When the honest man’s motivation,
Vanishes in the night,
Into some other scrub’s arms?

A dime, a dame,
They’re all the same,
Coming and going,
The flow of cash,
The passing of lovers,
Only to learn,
That life’s one true currency,
Is the endurance of obstacles,
And we all end up bankrupt in the finale.

How can you see the light at the end of the tunnel,
When you're constantly driving at night,
How can a cloud have a silver lining,
When the entire cloud is black?

Working to get a required education,
To pay for an optional education,
In order to apply for a job,
That requires both sets of education.

Working our whole lives to receive one piece of paper,
To get accepted by an academy that requires said paper,
Just to earn another piece of paper,
In order to get a job and earn more paper...

Yet they care so much about saving trees.

The bright side,
A side blocked by a wall constructed of human consciousness,
A self awareness far too complex and cruel,
Cruelty eating our species alive as we breathe.

Grass greener on one side,
But my side is dried up like jerky,
I roll it up and smoke it to gain a moment of clarity,
Nicotine rushes to my head,
Slowly killing me in sync with the daily tasks life requires.

God shows favoritism over those who show no effort,
And punishes those who abide by his laws,
Laws in which disbelievers defecate on,
And still he gives them gold stars.

A lack of significance happiness has with me,
It fails to correlate with responsibilities driven by such a fantasy,
When all there is the end of this bumpy road,
Is a cliff.

She'll kiss a word, covered in blood,
She'll dignify mediocrities aloud,
She gives me motive to blossom,
Into an entity I've long despised.

She isn't much of a salesman,
Though salesmanship is her passion,
Nearly driving herself to oblivion,
I sedate her with words that are preprogrammed.

Like a *** of water and salt,
A patch of Leather and with a yarned lace,
A cup of oil and a splash of vinegar,
We go together as if it's a curse.

To make sense of it would be senseless,
Since senselessness is it's meaning,
A shadow covering a timid silhouette,
It's passion for construction that seems most logical.

A clinch of ten fingers onto a lonely bed sheet,
Circulation begins to ****** drastically,
A hooded figure suspended over me,
I'm exhausted,
Foam at my mouth begins to secrete.

Should've known or at least taken a thought,
Making no attempts to cleanse my poisoned mind,
This abused heart can't stand much more,
A state like this I've never been before.

Judging by my loss of gratitude,
The chickens have come home to roost,
What some may call karma,
I call a blessing,
A lifetime of dreading the one form of peace,
I'll ever encounter in my time.

All I'm seeing now is black,
And they won't turn back the clocks,
No matter how much I beg and plead,
They're just letting me die alone in my socks.

A mystery woman named Mystery,
So suspenseful yet so majestic.
A damsel in distress she was,
Who keeps it all to herself.

Pale as the snow that fell one evening,
An evening where I had met her.
Her luscious red lips,
Her black painted finger tips,
And her wavy dark hair has intrigued me.

Her eyes were so mesmerizing,
But so lovely as they were frightening.
Her smile was rare when she showed it,
But her laugh was much too sinister.
Yet I had an urge to sound it more.

A sudden lust I felt for her,
Once she had been flirtatious.
What her motive was,
I'll never know,
But her love making surely was bodacious.

The rapid lust was frightening to me,
As it became an untreatable addiction.
Once lust had turned to love,
I knew it was a bad contradiction.

Once she felt that feeling for me,
She couldn't help it much longer.
She rose from the bed,
Her hands on her head,
Crying,
Wishing that she had lived stronger.

Amazed at what I had witnessed this instant,
I felt a sudden chill.
Her body glowed like Christmas Eve,
And then I started to feel ill.

I don't quite remember,
what happened post chill,
But skeptical I seem to be.
As I woke up with a slight aching head,
My memory was somewhat fuzzy.

Starting with a sudden thought,
Which then leads to rapid negative emotions.
The heart beats as fast as a jackhammer,
my right leg mimics the motion.

A tight and sharp sensation is felt in my lungs,
With hyperventilation to follow.
My mind races like a stallion.
The feeling of anxiety is at play.

Am I going to die?
Will I experience the worst imaginable?
Is my nausea leading to a sea of bile on the floor?
Here comes my loss of balance.

As my hands start to shake,
My legs continuing to tap,
I pray for the lord to give me a break.
I fail to sleep.
I refuse to take a nap.

The subconscious is strong.
Too strong to bare.
The flesh is weak.
Weak as the mind it protects.

A little pill to sedate the patient,
A pill that's small and yellow.
With my antispasmodics adjacent,
These pills aim to mellow,
The one ailment causing these symptoms.

Anxiety.
Such a fancy word.
A synonym for evil.
They say everybody has anxiety.
But do they understand fully on what happens inside of me?

I will forever be cursed,
With mental instability.
As my mind so ominously bursts,
My thoughts hold me victim to infidelity.

Psychedelic dreams,
Images that flash rapidly,
           Tap
           Tap
           Tap
Like a 16 millimeter camera.

I have the sound of ringing in my ears,
Her eyes are endearing,
Her Lips are motioning,
But no sound can be detected.

I'm somewhere not near my current location,
A place of my own,
Created by preferences pertaining to me,
I laugh instead of cry,
I feel instead of hurt,
I dream instead of sleep.

A place of my own,
No man should require skill,
As it is my own mind that does the accepting,
the judging,
    the dreaming,
          the creating,
A harsh reality creates the ideal fantasy,
The question being if the fantasy can become a reality,
Not by the grace of god but by the grace of my own,
To have and to hold,
A place of my own.

I search my soul, it's so dark and bold,
Carelessly shunning, those who seek entrance,
I listen but never learn,
I see but not think,
Forever I shall be branded,
One who quits when a situation sours,
And spoils like expired milk.

As the shackles tighten,
My heart begins to contract,
Solitarily confined in such dreadful darkness,
I anticipate mortality as it slowly maneuvers itself to me,
Battling such evil created within,
I hold myself prisoner to my own uncontrolled psyche.

This misery has no escape route,
The light dances around me,
Forever I'll be strained by worn out emotions,
Chained to despondency until my heart stops the beat,
As these shackles reach maximum strength,
Leaving my hands held captive to my own misgivings.

Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

No, I’m pretty sure Violets are violet.

That poem is a lie.

Just like my love for you.

What do I do?
What do I be?
May it simply be,
That I’m just me?

Who do I be?
Who should I be?
Is it always a matter,
Of what I make me?

Why can’t I just be?
What can’t I just be me?
What does everything,
Rely on what to be?

I somehow seem unable,
To be any ounce of free,
With requirements to be,
Everything but me.

First I start off with one jab to my own jaw,
Then I kick myself in the nuts however that is possible,
I'll rip and tear my hair out,
Rubbing soap in my eyes to add to the fun.

I twist my ******* until they are good and purple,
Getting a running start so I can jump through a door head first.
I dropkick a wooden slab with nails pointing out of it.

I'll take an razor and rapidly shave my face with no cream,
Then pouring vinegar onto the cuts,
I'll dunk my head into the toilet and pull the handle,
In order to conduct a self swirly.

I open my tackle box for fishing,
And find countless giant hooks for bass,
Sticking one through my cheek,
Then I'll flop around on the ground covered in thumb tacks.

Hydrofluoric acid baths are so heavenly,
Kissing a piranha on the mouth,
He naws on my lips as I slam my body into a mirror,
What happens next, is what I love the most.

I'll lay three boxes of legos on the ground,
Nice and flat they hold with anticipation,
I'll jump on them so gracefully,
River dancing while I stick a stun gun up my ***.

Mixing *****,
Bleach,
And Frank's hot sauce in a bucket,
I dip my feet in them after my lego dance.
The pain is so wonderfully jolting through my body,
As I jump into a pool with toasters and microwaves plugged into a power strip.

I wanna tickle the *** of a horse with a feather,
So it kicks me straight in the throat,
Then have the New York Giants run across my body In their cleats to the field,
After the game, they wipe the dirt off their cleats on my face.

I'd like to look down the barrel of a Red Ryder,
Then pull the trigger as the BB bounces off of my pupil,
I'll wash my eye out with nail polish remover,
Following that,
I'll drive a car down a hill with no breaks.

I want Freddy Kruger to play with my hair,
While Edward Scissorhands massages my back,
I'll kiss medusa with ******,
And have her snakes nibble on my ears.

I'll take a double headed cobra and floss my **** cheeks with it,
I'll tongue punch the **** box of Honey Booboo's mom,
I'll stick my head in a bee hive,
And run on a treadmill shaking it,
Until each bee stings my entire face.

I'll pull my own teeth out with pliers,
And have the same act done for my finger nails,
Rubbing my hands together covered in mineral ice,

Spray painting a target on the ground,
I'll set a ten foot ladder up next to it,
Climbing to the top of said ladder,
I jump off head first,
Landing straight on the bulls eye.

I'll swim right into a hurricane,
After I ate an entire steak dinner,
An earthquake causing the hurricane to become a tsunami,
I ride the tsunami straight into a building, where the building collapses onto my back.

I'll line up salt like *******,
And roll a dollar up snorting it continuously,
I'll take a razor blade and cut the lines off of my fingerprints and hands,
Then play the guitar like Eric Clapton.

I'd tie a rope to my genitals, then set up a stool to a ceiling fan,
Where the other end of the rope would be,
And kick the stool,
Leaving me hanging by my ******* and ***** from the ceiling.

I would do any of these sadistic,
horrific,
agonizing,
painful,
evil,
Atrocious things to myself,
Before I'd ever take you back again.

Look! I can spell BROTHER:

*******
ROYAL ******
OH, you are also-
TOXIC
HELL’S RULER
EXTREMELY-
*******

I love them,
They don’t love me.
Why would they?
They’re hot,
Juicy,
And delicious,
And I’m just…
Salty,
******* them down to the bone.

Buffalo wings rip up my insides,
They’ll inflame my chest and belly,
Giving me heartburn,
As I power through my consumption of them,
And yet I still crave them on a frequent basis,
As if I didn’t learn my lesson the last time.

Bone in or bone out,
It doesn’t really matter at this point,
I gave up trying to develop a preference,
As I’m committed to my hankering,
And seek regular satisfaction,
From the sensation and flavor they provide me.

Eyes full of tears,
I power through the pain,
Believing that each and every wing is worth it,
Even if I know they don’t agree with me,
And know **** well they are not good for me,
It’s like hitting yourself in the face,
But laughing at the sound it makes.

Wings come in all shapes, sizes and flavors,
But I choose the buffalo wing every time,
For the mere fact that they taste the best,
Even if they end up causing the most damage.
They don’t even fill me up,
But they do make me feel like I’ve had enough.

How many buffalo wings would it take,
For me to try a new flavor?
Is it the saltiness that appeals to me?
Is it the spiciness that enslaves me?
Is it the drippiness that seduces me?

Why not something sweeter, like BBQ,
Or savorier like Parmesan Garlic?
Why not choose plain old wings,
With a little bit of seasoning to keep it interesting?

Nope, I’ll always go for the buffalo wing,
I’ll always have that craving,
Because sometimes, living on the edge,
Knowing the risks and going ahead anyway,
Makes loving wings all the more worth it,
Despite their destructive ways.

Change

A dwarf sucker of psychological algae,
Paces that demolish a certainty,
Finishing when beginnings have begun,
Comfort ceases to remain a distance.

Peeling an onion that causes me to weep,
A fumigation of sudden nostalgia,
An anorexic of confidence,
Enormity of grief and doubt.

Breakneck motion of existence,
Reasonably unreasonable from fantasy,
Irrelevance drives stability to destruction,
Relevance articulates turmoil.

Why is it,
That something so necessary,
Seems so dreadful and bittersweet?

Why am I so sad,
Over moving on from,
Something that made me so sad?

Why do leaves fall of the trees?
Why do hairs fade to grey?
Why do things fail to remain consistent?

Why can’t I live forever?
Why can’t I seem to want to?
Why can’t this fear of change make sense?

Change,
A dwarf sucker of emotional algae,
These bits of change that we face,
In life,
Are merely a placeholder for temporary discomfort.

Cornelius,
Cornelius,
I’m tired,
Want to sleep.

Cornelius,
Cornelius,
Stop laughing,
As I weep.

Stop hiding,
In the corner.
Stop lurking,
Like a creep.

The only way,
To rid of you,
The only way,
To sleep.
I’ll draw you,
‘Till the crack of dawn,
To satisfy your needs.

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall,
How I’d wish to love them all.
An angel for a night to sleep,
A passion for my heart to keep.

Fluids drip drop down her spine,
How lucky I am to call her mine,
Whomever her may seem to be,
Resulted from my fantasy.

Its lonesome here in darkest night,
I’d love to come…
And take a bite,
Of forbidden fruit as sweet as lore,
Tasting lips and basting more.

It’s hot and heavy in this bed,
I’m solo here with marvel dread.
Reflecting on my loveless life,
I crave the scents of a luscious wife.

You roar while we weep,
We pray while you command,
A fickle bond,
A finicky repair,
To relations linked with blood.

A poison aiming to please,
When pleasing is what it does not,
It masks the weakness within,
Shying away from required antidote,
An antigen of pain and suffering.

I'll dance with this devil,
For I am the fruit of this darkness' *****,
I pray that you tragically vanish,
Yet still seek your guidance and nurturing.

A sheep in wolf's clothing,
With a demonic entity piloting your soul,
I tests the waters that are diluted with magma,
Ultimately annihilating any inkling of innocence I may still possess.

Bruising internally,
While external wounds begin to heal,
I suffer anxiety residing in this domicile,
A domesticated demon we've no longer entertained to tame.

Just a few more moons to go,
If few represented light years,
I hope and wait for the day to come,
Where you're a vision in my rearview mirror,
Only praying you won't distract me from the road ahead.

I fear that I’ll lose you,
Even though I want you gone.

I want you to stay,
Yet I often contemplate running away.

Does that make me... inhumane?

Have you driven me insane?
Or is that my head talking?
You’re the one who got me walking,
Now, here I am doing all of this balking.

We’re facing a scare, scarier than painless death.
We’re facing your suffering, promoting your very last breath.

I want you to leave me be,
But not to die prematurely.
Please don’t leave me,
I’m too young to bury,
The one thing that created me.

Complaining is talent given to me from God,
I've concluded that it's my one true gift.
Is it possible that I'm just a poet?
Or will this talent soon drift?

I complain and I complain,
No wonder why I'm so misleading.
As I emulate the mind of a man of strength,
But I speak the words of my dysfunctional brain.

I'm complaining about complaining,
How Ironic this seems to be.
Short words with longer meaning,
I complain so much,
That I forget that I am free.

Emotional Cancer

Depression is like cancer,
Once you've got it,
It will most likely **** you,
And leave your loved ones wondering "why".

The amazing similarities,
They are both rapid,
They tear up lives,
And there is no true cure.

Treatment, yes,
But both ending in mortality,
There is no true cure,
There is no true cure.

We question why is it that life,
Has a beginning, middle and end,
Yet space seems continuous,
Could you please help me comprehend?

A small spec of dust we are,
On a sea of psychedelic abstract,
Our universe is quite mediocre,
Comparing it to its extract.

Everlasting... what,
What is it that we seem to admire,
A lack of carbon energy,
Requiring us to wear glass hoods?

Why oh why is it existent,
Why does it ever be,
I still am boggled by this infinite setting,
Can it possibly be part of me?

Many hats on my head,
Many titles to claim,
I find it fulfilling to be,
Everything that motivates me.

One day I’m a fireman,
Another day I am a jailer,
This day I’m a poet,
Tomorrow I’ll be a mailer.

What’s funny is this,
A name and a shield,
Is merely a buck for a meal,
My ignorance is so bliss.

These paths are not me,
They are merely a guide,
For me to find whomever is me,
On a security guard’s salary.

To make films or to weep,
To keep jails or to sleep,
To fight fires or to leap,
Into this pen of little sheep.

Why is it that I,
Aim to be that guy,
Who’s career should imply,
That I’m “something” till I die?

An artist,
An actor,
An experiment of all factors,
I try hard to be somebody,
When I’m already my own everybody.

I’m exactly what I need to be,
In this world of all these faces,
Masks grow tight around these cheeks,
Why aspire to climb mountains,
And reach such heightening places?

I’m a detective one day,
An electrician by night,
A silly little dreamer,
Always ready to take on flight.

I’ll pilot this aircraft,
And spread my wings a’sailing,
Without prejudice or hesitation,
I may not always succeed,
But I’m never failing.

Fixated on the idea of stillness,
While my existence ceases to stand still.
Four past a dozen years of sanity,
but insanity becomes my will.
Is it faith that lyes within?
Or is it time to turn out the light?

Impervious to fulfillment,
Emulating a personality I could only dream of.
The mask became too tight,
and the match eventually burnt out.

Uncontrollable perturbation seemed,
Like a pit that had no bottom.
With emotional *******,
letting it escape was difficult.

Fear of judgement,
that comes from the outsider's force.
Smiling at the frowns inside,
denial took its course.
With a heart of gold,
and pride the size of the earth.
This name of mine should live on,
but had already been a memory at birth.

The final sleep could be near,
but the awakening could be so.
It could very well interfere.
Yet it is very well doubtful,
Through my eyes though.

Ashamed of what might come,
if my emotions pilot my soul.
This aircraft is running out of fuel,
and my fear to move on has dilated.

These roots are growing rapidly,
like a **** in the season of the sun.
My emotions are exploding,
Like a bullet escaping a gun.

God forgive this sinner,
Who sins for the worthy of life,
These words are cutting deep,
Deep through me like a knife.
A child at heart,
With a wise tale to tell.
My world is spinning rapidly,
My head is clanging like a bell.

A moral man in a corrupt world,
I portray a shakespearian player.
Soliloquies in character,
But this character is myself,
Myself is he,
The player.

In the final fall of the curtain,
I soon am ready to bow,
The crowed is loudly silent,
it is time to say goodbye now.

Look! I can spell FATHER:

FAILURE
ABUSIVE
****
HARDHEADED
EDGEY
ROUND

I wouldn’t hurt a fly,
Besides that one fly,
That flies around my eye,
In the middle of the night,
This fly needs to die,
And leave me alone,
Alone while I cry.

Fight or flight,
This fly’s got might,
Dodging my swipes,
And buzzing alright,
A noisy, buzzing kite,
Flying all ******* night,
As if confined to my brain tight.

I’m not alright,
I’m not alright tonight,
I don’t really want to fight,
This fly on such a lonely night.

Focus in,
Focus up,
Focus on…
What?

Can’t sit still,
Can’t pay any mind,
Nothing stimulates,
This third eye blind.

Can’t lay down to sleep,
Can’t bury my face in food,
Pick it up and put it down,
My inattentiveness seems crude.

So much to do,
So little I maintain,
The energy to focus up,
Too much adulthood hurts my brain.

Look! I can spell my name:

FRAID
REMORSEFUL
ATYPICAL
NEUROTIC
CAREFUL
IRREGULAR
SMALL

How exquisite it is,
Awaking day to day,
With many bills to pay,
Not a second to lay,
And many passersby,
Come and go my way.

What happened to Spring?
The cold, Winter chill,
Bothersome and bold,
Prolonging sunshine in May,
And a hopeful bloom of flowers,
Early on a Summer’s day.

No longer do I have the eye,
The once vibrant palette,
Has faded to shades of gray,
That vision of what could be,
Has drifted towards the wild cards that I play,
Merry and chipper, not ever,
Not today.

What keeps me at bay,
As my passion for trying becomes fray,
Is the internal defeat from external way,
Way of the ****** that seems to slay,
Every bit of purity in my heart that lay,
Formulating a misery that is here to stay.

All I aim for is to sleep,
That fine sleep on that lonely, inevitable day,
Existing and not existing, I’m sorry to say,
Is the only relief I feel as I hope and pray,
For God to bring me peace,
After a lifetime of disarray.

Mind molded like a block of clay,
Clay that never hardens,
Only my heart hardens like clay,
Youthful spirit and innocently gay,
Is a treasured philosophy,
I strive to regain some day.

The size of the world, on my shoulders that weigh,
Far from purpose and fulfillment I seem to stray,
Happiness is chosen, but not encouraged by they,
He or she of whom that continue to outlay,
My fragile, decaying soul,
I’m not okay.

It all starts with a kiss on the forehead from the devil.
A curse so deadly that The Grim Reaper would fear for his life.
Togetherness is a lost cause for sanity and my mind.
One of them, if not both, has been absent.

I've killed many and many before.
Homicidal cravings have polluted my veins.
Empathy has fled the scene of this heinous crime inside my head,
As the voices so gracefully moved in.

Frequent scenarios are projected in my dreams,
Like some spooky yet ****** film.
Two vampiric women kiss so maliciously,
As their lips are painted with blood.
This vision makes ****** *******.

The blood flow has not yet been drained from my vision,
As it stains the cotton of my memory.
Remorseful thoughts convert to an addiction.
I need to accommodate another fix, before my inevitable conviction.

I've once felt the feelings of the peaceful,
But reality has stolen my conscience.
A lovely soul transformed to atrocity .
This lantern gained a shortage of oil,
causing me to become lost in a field of misery and pain.

Minacious laughs frolic in my ears,
Though these giggles I'm quite familiar with.
I heard them often, so joyful and so free.
But now they've turned to evil.

An inability to move my hands when desired,
Caused by attire not aimed for warmth.
I'm a prisoner blocked by a wall of darkness,
So deliberately detaining my sanity.

I have loved a time, so long ago,
Where happiness was my most valued acquaintance.
Yet something inside of me awoken so suddenly,
Shamelessly demolishing any remote heart I once possessed.

Possession is such a polite word to use,
describing demonic forces taking ownership of your soul.
But I consider it a blessing in disguise,
Due to the unescapable fact that who I was could not be an acception,
To those who hold superiority over me.

A monster I was?
Or A monster I have became.
It would never be determined by the others.
All they fathom is that a monster is contained,
And lives will no longer be stolen by the guilty hands of this monster.

But what gives human life it's worth?
I will forever ponder that thought.
For I am the star of this so called Hell,
And where I'll be when my time has come,
No sane human would dwell.

If she’s broken,
Fix her.
If she’s difficult,
Chase her.
If she’s lonely,
Comfort her.
If she’s cold,
Warm her.
If she’s sweet,
Taste her.
If she’s lost,
Guide her.
If she’s insecure,
Flatter her.
If she’s distant,
Reach her.
If she’s unreachable,
Call her.
If she’s harsh,
Forgive her.
If she leaves,
Miss her.
If not miss her,
Forget her.
If not forget her,
You loved her.  

But despite her destruction,
Never,
Under any circumstances,
Hate her.

Love her,
And let her free,
From your idea of,
Her.

The Sacristy

A pastoral palace
A haven for servants of God
A prep room for the clergyman.
A probationary clergyman,
At his knees in prayer before the lord.

Roars of thunder rattle the room,
Clashes of lightening illuminate,
Through a stained-glass window.  
He is alone,
Father Bernard Benedict,
At the mercy of the lord.

Bernard

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned greatly,
Questioning his own fate,
never before today.
I am full of fear, Father.
Terrified of what will become of me,
if my betrayal of you progresses.
I’m scared of what won’t become of me,
if I remain loyal.

Father, all I know for sure,
is that I’m very confused,
And I need guidance.
It is a sin to deny thy lord,
in any circumstance,
but it is my own twisted irony
to have doubts and...
To have doubts,
And yet seek your guidance...

The Voice

And just what kind of doubts are you having,
my son?
What is it that you seek?
Confide in thy father,
As you are my child,
My dearest little one.
Unleash your desires,
Unravel your pain,
Lend me your soul.

Bernard

…Father?

The Voice

Yes, my son?
My son,
I’m here.
Speak to me,
All ears are wide,
Wide and open.

Bernard

It is you, isn’t it?
May I see your face?

The Voice

I’m afraid that is not possible,
I’m afraid it is not so.
I do apologize,
My son.

Bernard

Why?
Is my wish not your command?
Is it not your mission,
To aid in my suffering?
Why is it that I cannot see you?
Why is it that I cannot experience you?

The Voice

Because I don’t exist.

Bernard

Just what kind of a game,
Just what kind of a game are trying to play?
Father?
Manifest yourself!
Allow me to lay my tearful eyes,
Upon your entity.

The Voice

...If you insist...

The Storm
Wooshing,
Roaring,
Angrily little clouds,
Zigzags of electric,
Blowing window shrouds.

Maroon Man

Howdy do,
Father Bernard,
Hiya,
Howdy do?

Bernard

Who…
Who are you?
Who are you,
And how did you…
Do?

Maroon Man

I’m him,
I’m him,
He,
Who is I.

Bernard

Father?
Son?
Holy Ghost?
Of any, all,
And everything at most?
Dressed to the nines,
Maroon and Red shoes,
That shine?

Maroon Man

Him?
Him?
Oh, please,
Heavens, no.
I’m merely that,
Other him,
You know,
He who should not be named.

Bernard

It can’t be,
Possibly,
Can’t be,
He,
The monster in my nightmares,
The monster of my dreams.
You’re not…

Maroon Man

Carrying a pitchfork?
Hovering with horns?
I left such things at home.
Silly little stereotypes,
Little legends in the books.

Bernard

What is it that you want from me?
What is it that you seek?
I’m merely faithful to my lord,
Not you, that man,
So foul,
You reek.

Maroon Man

I want to talk about your plans,
I want to talk your pain,
I want to talk your suffering,
Your losses and your gain.
Unleash your lonely grievances,
Unload your pesky thoughts.

Bernard

I don’t condone your evil,
I don’t condone your sin,
Allow me to my thoughts in peace,
And never tread within.

Maroon Man

No,
No,
Of course, you don’t condone me,
That’s why you’re so conflicted,
Struggling and buckling,
about your future,
spreading the good love of faith,
because you’re dead-set on,
not disobeying the almighty.

Bernard

Why,
Oh why,
Why is it that you’re here?

Maroon Man

I’m here to merely guide you,
I’m here to simply help,
My son you haven’t yet seen,
The things that I can do.


Bernard  

I don’t need your guidance,
Not your friendship,
Or your help,
Banished from this House of God,
Exiled from this home of holy.

Maroon Man

Don’t you?
Do you?
I hear you’re at a crossroad,
You need guidance,
You DO need guidance,
correct?



Bernard

Not from you,
Never from you,
I’d rather convert or follow none,
Than worship the likes of you.

Maroon Man

Why is that?

Bernard

Because you’re wicked.
You’re ghastly,
You are the symbol,
of all evil.
You are the reason why there is suffering,
and death in this sinful world.
You construct hate and pain,
and spread it like a virus.
You are a virus.

Maroon Man

Flattery will get you nowhere,
Father Benedict.
You’re merely reading,
A resume,
An eternity of achievement.

Bernard

I don’t care what you have to say,
I can’t indulge you,
I won’t indulge you,
To indulge you,
Is to lose me,
And to lose him.

Maroon Man

From what I can tell,
you’re uncertain of your faith.
Isn’t that correct?
Isn’t that so?
Tell me I’m wrong.

Bernard

No,
Not at all,
Not entirely so.
I know what I believe in,
I know what is so,
I just don’t...

Maroon Man

Just don’t,
what?
Speak!
Release what it is,
That has you in such shambles.

Bernard

I just don’t know,
I just don’t know,
if I want to devote my life,
to my faith.
My faith,
My faith,
Where’s the faith in me?
To devote this life,
To everything,
In terms of he?
I feel this way,
And ache this way,
Knowing full well,
That I will burn in hell,
For feeling this way.

Maroon Man

What is it that you have to sacrifice,
in order to become a soldier of Christ?
What is it that you give,
What is it that you gift?

Bernard

Time,
Time,
And life after time.

Maroon Man

Time, yes,
But there’s more to it,
than just time,
What else are you risking?
What is that you sacrifice?
We both know the answer to that,
We both know it true,
You’re risking freedom, you see,
if you pursue a life of pure faith,
you will never know what the beauty of…
pleasure is like.
Freedom is pleasurable,
isn’t it?
Pleasure,
Fulfillment,
Taking that first sip of bourbon in the morning-time,
Taking that long drag from a burning cigarette,
Truly knowing what it’s like,
to make love to a woman,
feeling every bit of passion and pleasure that…
comes with it.
You lack character in this world
and that’s because you are
unfulfilled.

Bernard

You...
You see right through me,
You see right through my pain,
Every ounce and every air,
Of all that I fail to obtain.

Maroon Man

Even he can,
He isn’t stupid,
He knows these are things you want,
But is he allowing you to do so?
No,
his words forbid such action.
Why?
Because,
all he really wants is recognition and obedience.

Bernard

You lie,
You lie,
and you lie,
You can’t possibly know,
what the lord truly wants.

Maroon Man

Don’t forget,
Don’t you ever lose sight,
I once fought alongside him,
the same way you are now,
and look where it got me,
once I realized that there is more,
more to it than just spreading peace,
and tranquility through him.
True peace is in pleasure.
He hates pleasure.
He craves order.

Bernard

And what makes you think,
that I want anything more than,
peace and tranquility?

Maroon Man

Because you wouldn’t be doubting,
your path to priesthood,
if you didn’t desire the very things,
He tells you not to desire.
Even desiring is a sin, you see.
To him,
desire is greed.
Take some initiative for yourself,
and humor me.

Bernard

I can’t.

Maroon Man

Why not?
You can,
Don’t you see?
I can show you.
I can show you,
Fruitful things.
I can show you all,
That he forbids.
Remember the girl?

Bernard

What girl?

Maroon Man

You know,
You know what girl,
Don’t tell me that,
You don’t remember,
The girl.

The Photograph

A framed image,
A portrait of beauty,
Her,
Gorgeous blonde locks,
A lovely little maiden,
Her,
God’s crafted angel,
Dearly Departed,
Cecelia.

Maroon Man

Cecilia,
She is why you are doing this,
aren’t you?
She died,
Tragically,
Overdosed, even.
A talented musician,
who got wiped away,
because of her desires.
Like blowing out a candle.
You think it was me?
You think it was me,
who took her away from you?

Bernard

Yes,
Yes,
I blame you,
You,
Foul old you,
You’re the reason why she’s gone,
You are the cause of pain.

Maroon Man

Wrong,
Wrong,
Wrong again, Bernard,
It was him, Bernard.
He who forbade,
Pleasure,
Mortality was her punishment,
for seeking such pleasures.
It was him, Bernard.
It’s much too easy,
Too easy to pin the blame on anyone,
but the true culprit.
It’s no coincidence,
that I’m here this evening,
Bernard.
I’ve been watching you,
I know you inside and out,
Better than you know yourself.
Do you now trust me?
We’re waiting, Father!
(beat)
Just as I thought.
You know that it’s better to have loved,
and lost,
then to never have loved at all.



Bernard

****… you…

Maroon Man

Profanity,
Profanity,
Is profanity not a sin?

Bernard

Why are you doing this to me?
Why are you here?
What is it that you aim to accomplish,
Foul, ghostly beast?

Maroon Man

If you’d just humor me,
If you’d just listen,
If you’d just dip your toes,
Into my point of view,
I can give you it all.

Bernard

What is it,
that you’ll do,
if I indulge you?

Maroon Man

You can have her,
She would be yours
for all eternity,
You can have everything,
you desire.
Only if you come with me.

Bernard

Can I talk to her?
Can I hold her?
Can I smell her scent?
Can I taste her lips?
Can I…

The Action

Maroon Man smiles,
Maroon Man nods,
Maroon Man grants,
And twirls his fingers,
At invisible atmospheric dials.

Outside the window,
Stood Cecelia dressed in black,
Bernard sniffs a soulful tear,
His love and lust had come for her,
It had unapologetically come back.

He raced outside the holy place,
And wandered in the fields,
To find his lovely little,
Cecelia May,
Waiting for his warm embrace.

Filmmaking should be an art form, not merely a business.

The creative process should be personal, not impersonal.

Filmmaking should be sentimental, not political.

Performances should be natural, not robotic. They should be authentic, not artificial.

Writing should be truthful, not bogus.

Cinematography should be ambitious, not pretentious.

Premieres should be on a big screen, not a flat screen.

The audience should open up their preferences, not solidify them. They should respect traditions, not belittle them.

Profit should be a reward for hard work, not a motive for it.

Filmmaking should be intoxicating, not grueling.

Credit should be a right, not a luxury.

Ownership should be divided, not bombarded.

Final cuts should be final, not temporary.

The industry should be welcoming, not selective. It should be open, not gated.

Investors should require trust, not demand control.

We should treasure movies, not forget them over time.

Artists should be publicized, not exploited. They should be grateful, not prissy.

Celluloid should be valued, not endangered.

Equipment should last, not outdate within a year.

In a country full of opportunities, why is it so difficult to achieve what you want? Better yet, if you work hard enough, why could you still fail?

The buzzing of a street lamp,
Echoing through my silent block.
Sounds of crickets are heard,
But the silence is deafening.

Darkness surrounding 8th Street.
An uneasy feeling of being watched,
Creeping up against my neck,
As if it's licking me so tenderly.

The neighborhood of which my home resides,
So mysteriously nerve wrecking.
Petrified to take the garbage to the curb,
I look over both shoulders to make sure.

A creepy sound of laughter,
Floods the sound of nature.
Flabbergasted by my discovery,
That I am being stalked by an unknown being.

Whispers being whispered,
My heart begins to scream.
I loathe this feeling of dreadful fear.
I can't move.
I am paralyzed.

Whatever this thing is,
Human or supernatural.
I am almost positive this is arousing,
To the terrifying being that it is.

A predator hunting it's prey,
I now become the target.
Help me.
Oh god.
Help me.

Uncomfortable shivers contaminate my bloodstream.
Freezing in July,
It's 75 degrees.

Surrounded by the supernatural.
Unwanted manifestations of spirit,
Making me their little toy.
What in god's name is the end game?

Death,
Leaving my face frozen in terror.

I can enter your mind.
I can make you feel emotions that you thought were non existent.
I can show you the harsh reality in decisions you've once contemplated,
But I can also show you the perks.

I am your conscience,
And I am smarter than you.
I control your every action.
I like getting inside of your head.
Because you're weak and predictable.

I can turn you into some little puppet,
Because without me,
You'd be dead.
I like to tease you.

I'm the one who speaks to you.
The one who projects little films in your brain of what is to come,
If you make a turn down a particular road.

I can ruin the fun,
Yet I can prevent the unfortunate.
I suppose you can call me your guardian angel,
But no angel could ever be as loyal to you as me.

You may see my opinion as irrelevant,
Yet you may be grateful for my support.
I'm only here to protect you.
Regardless of how devious you think I may be.

Remember that time you decided to try new activities?
You remember, the one's that surpassed your original preferences?
The ones that make me run away and a new sense of thinking appears?

Well I stopped you.
Because nobody likes a dead sixteen year old.
There is so much evil in this world,
And I am the wall that stops you from becoming a part of it.

I am your conscience.
And you barely acknowledge what I do for you.

I really don’t,
Not an ounce,
Not anymore,
Not evermore,
I don’t care.

I don’t care that I’m short,
I don’t care that I’m stout,
I don’t care that I’m poor,
I don’t care much about.

What’s to care for?
Who’s to care for?
We’re carless little bees,
Buzzing away at the lost honey,
When someone is spraying our hive.

Ask me if I give a ****,
Ask me if it is true,
You’ll come to learn and realize,
That even this poem doesn’t rhyme,
And I don’t care.

Insomnia,
Insomnia,
I wish that you would die.
Why is it that you ****** me?
You laugh as you make me cry.

Feelings that help conspire,
My heart to skip a beat.
The pressure of my blood rises higher,
To cure my sadness I continue to eat.

A monster grows inside of me,
His name I do not know.
All of this peculiar controversy,
Conspiracies begin to grow.

Not knowing who or what I am,
I start to lose my head.
While my head forms
it's acidic jam,
It soaks up into my bed.

Deadly forces fight inside,
My brain stops it's function.
Unconventional disfunctions collide,
Like a sentence without conjunction.

Distancing myself from society,
I'll sleep forever lonely.
Friends are like your enemies,
So late to realize they're phony.

Love has been lost,
Some time ago.
I wish I had a companion.
Misery,
Inside of me.
A woman's touch will make,
This loneliness inside of me go.

Questioning the nature of humanity,
I feel I'm betraying the lord.
Constant coexisting insanity,
Starts when one becomes bored.

Boarding up these windows,
The storm rolls in above.
As peers become your hated foes,
Hate transformed from love.

Waking up this very day,
I notice a familiar sensation,
Every dawn is like today,
With no spontaneous creation.

Night comes about,
I fail to sleep,
Instead I start to shout.
Counting sheep,
Is useless,
As my heart fails to grout.

Insomnia,
Insomnia,
Why won't you let me be?
Too many things exhaust my mind.
I'd like to go to sleep.

I was born a medical debacle.
Bowel movements consistently irritable,
Inflammation causing an abundance of distress,
Have my fears of leaving the house to ******.

Help me as my insides are bursting in pain.
I’d rather have my head repeatedly slammed in car door.
Scenarios created within my own psyche,
I am left with great despair for my future as a man.

Failing  to do so little as sitting in a classroom,
With unfamiliar eyes that could easily be drawn to me,
I hear a gurgling sound coming from my intestines,
And I am stranded on an island of panic.

Unable to leave the room,
As the instructor ceases trips to the bathroom,
I’m crying on the inside in agony,
And my colon is screaming traumatically.

The mental tormenting has gone seventeen years too long,
With this ailment I have yet to rid myself of.
I am a slave to this known syndrome,
As many people are of this day,
And I have genetics to be thankful for of this disease,
That is literally and figuratively,
eating me up inside.

I see you,
Uh-huh, I see you,
I see right through you,
I see you.

I see your desperation,
Your attempts to keep me wanting,
You,
Everything about you,
I see you.

I see you turning older, on the outside,
More mature, like a sophisticated riveter,
But you’re still a talentless shrew,
Daddy’s little princess,
Without the ability to drive forward,
I see you.

I see you for what you are,
I see you for what you always have been,
Always will be,
Always fail to be,
I see you.

I see you rubbing my face in dirt,
I see you trying so hard to be mean,
Independent,
Free of me,
I see you.

I see that all of that would be okay,
If I didn’t see how you still care,
I see that you still care,
I see you.

I see that if your attempts to move on,
were to help yourself,
Not to hurt me,
That’d be fine,
But I see through you,
I see you.

I see that you are better off,
I see that I’m well on my way,
I see that if you had any courage at all,
You’d stop pretending that we both,
Don’t see,
How much we miss our little era,
Even though we put on this digital show,
Of being fine,
I see this facade we both play.

I see you,
Seeing me see you,
And seeing how phony we are,
Pretending to see nothing,
I see you.

Hi,
How are ya?
I was just checking in,
Wanted to see how you,
Were holding up.
Ya know,
Without me.

Glad to hear you’re doing well,
How’s work been?
Oh, I told you that you’d get promoted!
That’s so awesome.
Me?
Yeah, I’m doing fine,
Ya know,
Living.

What’s wrong?
Oh…
You’ve been seeing someone?
Well,
That’s...
Great,
Truly great.
You deserve to be happy,
Ya know,
That’s all I ever wanted for you.

Of course I understand,
You need to know that,
I always cared,
I just…
Cared too much and,
Well you were there,
You know how it all,
Turned out.

Well anyway,
I’m glad to hear that,
you’re doing amazing.
I know I said this before,
But I just wanted to say,
Again,
That if you ever need,
Anything,
Just please feel free,
To reach out.

Okay,
Sounds good.
Take care.

An angry heart,
A damaged soul,
Possessed by,
A grumpy troll.

A lacking luster,
A friendly foe,
I aim to learn,
What I should muster.

A canny face,
A polished mind,
A fruitful spirit,
A happy place.

To simplify,
To complicate,
These questions, on repeat,
In my questioning, confused head.

What do I want from this world,
Beyond simplification,
Yet a fraction of complication?
I’ll never know.

All I know, is that incarcerated birds,
still cheerfully chirp,
And nothing is ever what it seems,
Not even people.

I learned the hard way,
Achieving desires means,
Losing drive,
A sense of purpose,
And all fulfillment subsides.

Success is a state of mind,
Placement is what brings you peace,
So much to experience,
Yet so little focus.

At a certain point,
When getting old,
This contemplation follows,
And leaves me with nothing to show,
For all that I’ve experimented with—
Because staying put is too hard to bear.

Lights in the Sky,
Lights in the Sky,
How many have died,
For these lights in the Sky?

A web of familiar photos,
Flashing before my eye,
A bundle of lights are flashing,
Flashing throughout the sky.

Noisy lights bashing,
Crashing through my eye,
These lights aren’t dashing,
Their sadness is masking,
while mashing up the sky.

Today, like many others,
We seek lights flashing in our eye,
To remind us of our strength,
Yet strength is hard to come by.

Unity and tranquility,
Yankee Doodle, do or die,
So keep igniting these lights,
As they dance throughout the sky,
As my eye sheds another tear,
on this wonderful night in July.

Snarly and ferocious, this dreadful child has been gifted to me.
At age 3, I was cursed with a responsibility to protect and mentor this devilish girl.
Fourteen years of pure evil and malignancy drives my mind to a state in which no man should ever have to feel.

My heart shrieks with vengeance as she so deliberately tries to inflict pain on it.
My conscience refrains me from doing the harm she does to me,
Reminding me that I am the bigger person.

Little girl, you devious and vicious soul,
I've dreaded the very day I first glanced upon your face.
As your ruthlessness and your carelessness towards other people causes heartache,
When words fly out of your mouth.

You sadistic young twit,
I must correct you for your behavior.
But I hold no authority to do so,
Yet I have been branded your guardian ever since the devil himself has spawned you.

I listen and feel for your struggles, I do.
So I must question why you don't respect mine?
Is life all about you, little girl?
Or is it you just find joy in driving me to insanity?

No longer will I entertain these loathsome conflicts,
As you are my unchosen inferior.
I will fight the urge to play your game,
And find the humor in your desire to leave me discouraged.

Little girl, you silly child.
One day you will be mournful,
When the time comes where I will not be present,
And you will nevermore have me to fulfill your barbarous needs.

The first bite of a Mallomar,
Crunching like a boot,
On a fresh sheet of snow.

The sip of Ginger Ale,
On crushed ice,
With the squeeze of a lemon wedge

The smell of crisp Autumn air,
In September,
Just before the leaves change.

A puff of rich tobacco,
Rolled in Maduro,
With a glass of Scotch.

A salty, fatty, crispy steak,
Dripping of meat juice,
As it swims in steak sauce.

The lips of a beautiful woman,
Inside and out,
Pressing up against mine.

My fingers flicking,
Through fresh paper,
Of a brand new hardcover.

The feeling you get,
When seeing prints developed,
From your own 35mm roll of film.

A big, salty, garlicky pickle,
After a deli sandwich,
On a Saturday afternoon.

The palette punch,
Of a salt and vinegar chip,
From a fresh bag.

Looking at all that gives me joy,
One can see the truth,
In the meaning of life.

Little things,
Oh so grand,
In a world of big woes.