Left me
Obvious
Not enough

Stark hate
My blood
Cursed

Isn’t it
Enough

Hate is
All that is left

I can’t rhyme
Or reason

I break
Because
Of you

Can’t we
Just drown
In the muck

End this
For me
Some peace

If only I could summon the will to banish my daemons;
Exorcise the rot that for too long has brought me low;
Waged a war unseen and unheard by the outside;
Inside, a mutinous cacophony of a ****** battlefield;
Where the parts of me unfouled by corruption, weep;
Tears of crimson blood run down as flowing rivers rage;
Anger, that the current refuses to change its course;
Sadness, that I was the one who had diverted destiny;
Swept away by tides no mortal man can hope to shake;
Trapped, like mighty Atlas, beneath the weight of fate;
An unfortunate purgatory of endless indecision;
A fear to see myself beyond the scars I have caused;
Calloused, my pessimism knows no boundaries;
There can be no going back to brighter days;
When days are comparable only to the blackest night;
Sunrises carry the gravitas of the setting sun, reversed;
Life, loses the beauty that once inspired the muse;
Leaving me feeling empty, lost on 'oft forgotten seas;
Praying for Charybdis to churn and drown my daemons;
Finally setting me free from this self imposed slavery;
Shattering the chains holding my past to my present

Rusted hinges creak. A mourning, musty groan.
A hollow echo in a house once known.
For laughter's chime & footsteps light n' free.
Now just a shell, a haunting memory

Sunlight struggles through dust laden panes.
Illuminating cobwebs, remnants of bygone rains
Each chipped, flaking wall a silent plea.
A yearning for the life that used to be.

I tead with reverence on creaking floorboards worn
Imagining the stories in this place forlorn
The faded paint, a canvas cracked n' dim
Holds whispers of love that used to be brim.

Slowly, tools in hand, I break the mournful spell
New life I bring, A future yet to dwell.
Hammer strikes meet chisel's tap.
A symphony of hope, dispelling sorrow's trap.

Ignored or words to adorn. May fade like soundless wind.
Invisible, lyrics to be hushed. "A Ghost Story"

I was a cutting
the empty shell
of what was always meant to flower
my somewhat withered roots
those tangled thorny barbs
were beaten,
crushed to powder
by the grinding heels
which pound life's highway
yet come the spring of middle age
I claimed the time anew,
and flourished strong
no longer swamped by rain
which fell upon my dusty head
it washed me from the drain
where life had placed my weary self
I found rebirth in lost but still familiar tracks
and a writer grew between the pavement cracks

I have value.
    I am courageous.
    I am worthy of love.​
    I give myself permission to be myself.
    ​I am enough.​​

I care for myself.
    I am mindful.
    I am strong-willed
    I have clear intention.
    I share in the good life with others.

Hone in on those genuine desires.
    Health.
    Prosperity.
    Passion.
    Trust.

Trust in the world.

A freethinker thinks

about questions, the answers --


he doesn't want to hear.