I am the king of a crumbling castle,
a hassle to hold but I'm old and I'm scared
of the bold young world that sits around me
surrounding my vision, emissions of life
like entities born in flame, that drift astray
from parents ensnared in the glare of a television screen.

The Dungeon           Calls
The Dungeon           sings
In wincing                tones
of wicked                  things,
the entrance             looms
The doorway's          dead
The wailing               wins
and claims your head.

You run away,
you don't look back.
You know what's peeking through the cracks.
Not one to bare the light of day.
It waits, beyond
while you decay.

The Dungeon howls.
The dungeon's sweet.
The dungeon send you off to sleep.

It's safe, this place
where you reside.
Out there you fear
sunlight collides
with ghastly skin
and telling eyes
so let them get on
with their lives.

Understanding but
Not really feeling, the need
Others have when they
Absolutely cannot be
Without someone else around.

Dancing in the attic,
I hide from the Passerby,
Confronting their eyes—
Traumatic.
Listen to the words I try to imply.

These beings mean no harm,
To me, they seem strange.
As they embezzle in my charm,
All I see them as, deranged.

Seasonal
Like allergens
I’m puffy-faced,
Annoyed by the presence.
Hoping you catch the drift
Before I blow my nose like a car horn
“Out of my way”
Always with your static traffic
Conjecture and loose metaphors.

Temper on the rise like the temperature
And the temperament I use could quell a blade
Lest you challenge the sharpness of my tongue
And the ways I can cut you with precision.

Fractal pieces
Of broken mirror
Shows you and you alone
And you can’t face you
So how do you suppose I can?

No, you don’t seem to get this-
You’re parasitic like a leech
Or worse yet a bed bug
You infest with unwanted reverie,
And spread your insipid tragedies
******* my oxygen - and I’m asthmatic
So I puff on the albuterol like a lit cigarette
I hope you get the drift.

You don’t
No, you can’t read a room
Third-grade level intellect
Wrapped in middle-aged mold,
A pustulant excrement that speaks flatulence
And I can smell you from across the street.

Just shh…
Take it somewhere else,
Let me herd you to a new shepherd
I have no use for a lolcow,
The milk is sour and you’re not my kind of cheese
Sleazing on anything that breathes,
You’d breed with a steer if it had the parts
Create a satyr as dim-witted as you,
At least then I could use this buckshot.

Memory will forget you
Like history missed you,
Nothing garnered or gained
A name that means nothing,
Just pass like wind -
And cease your prattling.

I care not.

The thought of a café or club
both make my heart rate rise.
Or going to cafés and stores;
even sometimes just outside.

I’m tired of sitting, so lonely,
so sick of staying inside.
So tired of choosing to stare at screens,
but I’m afraid to experience life.

While it seems a good solution,
it just makes me more upset.
I crave to be there, mind devoid of fear;
it seems impossible, nonetheless.

Inside is comfortable, I can’t deny,
but crushing; keeps me up each night.
I could stay inside my cave all day,
‘cause I’m afraid to experience life.

I sit frozen on my floor,
stomach sour and mind awhirl.
My palms and feet are getting sweaty,
fingers pulling at my curls.

So, I study how to take control
of a mind in fight-or-flight.
It will still spiral at outings mentioned,
but I’ll work toward experiencing life.

Attachment tear you from inside,
Leaves your heart nowhere to hide.
Introverted, deeply twisted within,
Lonely yet fine, a world kept thin.

Used by people, trusted in vain,
Sadness flows, but not like pain.
Loneliness, a silent, constant friend,
Attachment breaks what time won’t mend.

It cuts you deep, it takes so long,
To heal, to move, to feel strong.
One person can turn your world to gray,
Their absence, a shadow that won’t stray.

You think of them, though they don’t care,
Their indifference more than you can bear.
Trying and trying, you seek to let go,
Yet thoughts of them forever flow.

Why obsess when the future’s bleak?
Their apathy shows the truth you seek.
I wish to be cold, unfeeling, free,
Yet attachment keeps imprisoning me.

Yet in this pain, a truth I find,
To love myself, to clear my mind.
Attachment tears you from inside,
But healing mends what’s pushed aside.

In every class,
Every place,
There is a child that's oddly quiet.
As the child grows up, they begin to change,
Growing more and more distant from reality.

They sit there emotionlessly,
Living their dream life in their own universe.
It's quite sad others can't see it.

Sometimes, imagination dissapears along with childhood innocence.
A child that can't play is no longer a child.
Some children are smarter than adults
That's why people belittle them.
They can't stand the thought of someone being superior to them.

Be a child as long as you can.
You'll regret it if you don't.