Life Is Like
A Video Game
You Work Hard
You Earn
Something
And Unlock
Something
And Possibly
Become A Leader
One Day
But,
An Expert
Was Once
A Beginner
A Follower
Which Lead
Him To
Determination
Hard workmanship
Commitment
And Like
A Chain
He Could
Have Stayed There
In The Chains
But,
He Left His Demise
And Found A Key
Way Out Of
Death
Or Maybe Regret
~Paris Styron~

You May Have
A Script
But,
That Does Not
Mean You Know
How To Use
It
~Paris Styron~

Do Not Love
Me
Because My Love
Is A Star That
Will Always Be
Wished Upon
My Love Is So Strong
You Will Turn Into Stone
If You Were To
Break My Heart
That Star Will Turn
Into Scars
That Will Shine Alone
That You Will
Later Realize
You Wish You Had Me
And, Still
Would Wish Upon
That Star
~Paris Styron~

Pain Is
A Gain
Of Progress
~Paris Styron~

Humiliation
Is A Form Of
Unitity
In Ones Self
One Step Closer
Of A Human Being
~Paris Styron~

Let The Writing
Talk, And Your Thoughts
Express
Let The Tears
Run Down
Your Face
That Covered
Pain
Now Tears Drop
To The Floor
Behind Doors
That Whats
Keep The Floors
Crying
~Paris Styron~

Loneliness
Is A Tool
Which Can Turn Into
Solitude
Thus A Piece Of Mind
~Paris Styron~

Music Is A Thing
Trapped Inside
A Man World
~Paris Styron~

I Will Be A Scar
That Is A Star
In Your Eyes
You Will Wish Upon
~Paris Styron~

Night Of The Coolness
Moon Of The Light
Carry My Sadness Away
Everyday
Every Night
From This Day On
~Paris Styron~

Carry Your
Sorrows With
Kindness
Not Anger,
Rage
Not Slaughter
~Paris Styron~

Your
Always
The One
Who Held
My Pain
Deep Inside
Tamed It
As If It
Was Your Own
So It
Wouldn't **** Me
Inside
Your Heart
Knew My
Pain
Your Tears
Always
Carried
Your
And My
Sadness
Away  
Depression
Was Your Middle
Name
The Wolf's Eye
Was Always
Different
Was Always
The One
Who Knew
From Same
From Different
Never Could You
Be Another
Eye
Another
Star In
The Sky
Where
My Tears
Align
In The Sky
~Paris Styron~

Your Tears
Always,
Hanged
By Sorrows
Of The Night
Grief That
Always
Grief
That Fills
Your Day
With Fear
And Illusions
That I
Can
Never Unfold
~Paris Styron~

When You
Unfold
My Note
Of Pain
You Unfold
It
With Care
That Almost
No One
Can See
Where
No One Seemed
To Care
You Almost
Could Not
Bare
My Tears
Down My
Face
With
The
Undead
On The
Ground
Where Fear
And Death
Have No
Bounds
[~Paris Styron~]

Your
Blood Always
Spoke
To Mine
Always
Fear And
Death
Made You
Bleed  
Of Guilt
And Shame
You Always
Had Pain
That Would
Never
Go Away
Until
I Flew
With Your
Wings
I Noticed
They
Could Not
Fly
Without
Me
Without Hope
Without
Happiness
That Always
Lead
To Shame
And You
Died
Inside
Day By Day
Night By Night
Day By Night
You Always
Flew
In Despair
In Depression
Which Always
Kept
The Soil
Growing
And
The Graves
Crying
Your
Pain Is
My Command
I Am Used
To It
[~Paris Styron~]

The Walls
I Write
On Always
People
Look Away
In Misbelief
In Mis' Of Shame
Bloodly Paws
Always Perfume
Your Thoughts
With Guilt
Of Laughter
Of Shame
That We Cannot
Wash Away
Our Pain
Tears Always
Hanged
Never Noticed
Always
Ignored
To Be
Insane
And Left
Out Of
The Pack
Because
Your Face
Is Black
Because
Your Face
Is Worn Out
And So
Are Your
Memories
Imprinted
Never Forgotten
In The Night
You Always
Howled My
Heart
Which People
Like Poison
Darts
Cut You Down
In The End
Darts
Makes Your
Blood Run
Stale
[~Paris Styron~]

Your Childhood
Broken
Away From Peace
From Happiness
From Joy
To Despair
To Pain
To Hopeless
To Hold In
That Shame
Never Could
You Be Sane
With Yourself
Again
[~Paris Styron~]

The Tears
Drops Fill Up
Their Glasses
Worn Out Places
Worn Out
Faces
Had An Early
Of The
Daily Races
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday
Your Heart
So Black
So Black
You Never
Wanted
Worn Out
Memories
Worn Out
Faces
Of Pain
Of Sorrows
Of Grief
That Always
Bleed Away
The Day  
And Bleed
Through
Happiness
And Joy
And Eats
You Away
Like Acid
It Paints
Its Name
Guilt
And Shame
You Must
Always
Be Alone
[~Paris Styron~]

Scars
Pass On
And Pain
Is The
Memory
That
Keeps
The Soul
Caring
Because
They Do Not
Want
That Scar
To Be
Another
One To Own
Their Love
One
And Be
A Hook
That Digs
Into
Their Souls
[~Paris Styron~]

Your Tears
Are Scars
That Cannot
Be
Ignored
Be
Silent
You Always
Have Stars
That
Speak Your
Name
Only One
Aligns
My Heart
My Soul
Always
Until
The End
[~Paris Styron~]

Everywhere
I Step
I Think Of
You
My Heart
Turns Into
Stone
When I See
You,
You Show Your
Delicate
Love
You Hold My
Pain
It Hangs
On A Wall
That Keeps
Me Sane
You Hold Me
Like A Child
To Keep
Me Young
Because Life
Is Too Short
For Grudges
For Stress
For Problems
The Only
Meaning In
Life
Is Love
~Paris Styron~

Crying
In The
Shadows
My Heart
Withers
Wilted
In
Shame
Of
My
Loneliness,
Trapped
Beneath
The Shackles
My
Heart
Rattled,
Hoping
To Find
Someone
Who
Finds
My
Pawprint
In
The
Black
Snow,
Who
Follows
Through
My
Mist
Of
Loneliness
Who
Sniffs
Who
Finds
Hope
For
Me
Emotionally
The
Honest
Ones
Who
Get
This
Message
The One
Who
Is
Honest
To
My
Face
~Paris Styron~

To
My Face
During
The
Black
Dark
Days,
Which
Leads
To
My
Tearful
Black
Tears,
Running
Somberly
Down
An Empty
Hole
Saying
"Where
Will I Go"
~Paris Styron~

My Dark
Sorrows
Grasp
My Hopes
And Dreams
Render
Them
Helpless
Tantalizing
My Emotions
With
Sorrows
And Disbelief
Perfuming
Me
With
Despair
That I
Cannot
Describe
But
With
Black
Bleeding
Tears
Running
Down
My
Face
~Paris Styron~

Sniping
One By One
The
Tones
Darkened
The Gray
Clouds,
Drooping
The Bodies
To The
Grave
The Bullets
Flying
To
Their
Victims
Precious
Light,
Farewell
My Friend
Your
Black
Rose
Diminished
In My
Heart
~Paris Styron~
~Farewell~

The Dove's
Heart
Woos
The Somberness
Of
One Soul
Leaving It
In
Ashes
Shriveled
From
Existence
Wooing
The
Woefulness,
Weeping
For
Its Victim
Dripping
Drooping
Filling
The Room
With
Puddles
Of Blood
~Paris Styron~

Her Heart
Rendered
Helpless
Between
Her
Tears
Weeping
For
Forgiveness,,
As Time
Passes
By Her
Eyes
And Her
Tears
Grow
Dimmer
Of
A Color
Known
As
Black
Then
Her Soul
Shattered
Into
A Grave
~Paris Styron~

I am Here
Finally Free
From Bleeding
From Depression
Only This Day
And This Moment
I Finally Get To See Life
For The First Time
~Paris Styron~

I Walk This Forest
Hearing The
Wind
Speaking To Me
It Is My
Friend
For Now
Which
Path In Life
Should I
Go So Many
Where Do They
Lead To Happiness,
Sadness,
Then Depression,
Where?
I Am Lost
In This Forest
Stuck Here
Mixed With Blood
With Tears
That Are Here
With Me
A Howl Nearby
I Hear
For Help
In The Mist
He Is In....
Pain
Just As I Am
I Am Not Alone
~Paris Styron~

Where
Your FootPrints
Go
I Go,
You Will Not
Leave My Sight
You Will
Not Be Slayed
Because
I Am A Shield
With Two PawPrints
Belong To Me
4 Belong To You
I Am A Loner
In Solitude
That Cannot Be Broken
I Am Sorry
I Will Not Stand With You
I Will Be
In My Arms Alone/Solitude
At Peace
~Paris Styron~

What To Think
Now
For Who I Am
From Which Footprints
To Be In
Am I Trying
Where Am I
Always Standing Here
What To Do
Where To Do
All I Need Is To
Keep Writing
Because Problems
Turn Into
A Work Of Art
Just As Depression
Does
~Paris Styron~

My Whole Life
Of Something To
"Help Me"
It Makes Me Forget
My Whole Life As
A Child
And
Now I Am Left Behind
I Believe
To Be On My Own
Now To Work
On Being Alone
Not Having People
To Help
I Grow Tire
Of Them
Giving Me Things
I Want
To Earn It
Now
No Longer
Just Take
~Paris Styron~

I Believe
People With
Easy Lifes
Have No Lifes
Most Don't
Have Hard Work
Habits
Just As I Do Not
Sadly
~Paris Styron~

We Are Divided
By Love And Hate
We Love
We Are Hatred
We Are The
Saviors
They Are
The Destruction
Of The World
The World It
Seems Cannot
Be Saved
Only Few Can
Save This World
Of It Once
Born With:
Honesty And
Truth
~Paris Styron~

A Stain Covers
Your Heart
That Tells You
Apart
Fueled By The Hate
Fueled By The Innocent
Of Tears
Of The Innocent
With A Thorn
In His Heart
We Sleep Our Life
Away
~Paris Styron~

People Look
At The Wolf
They See Nothing
More Than A
Deviant Than
A Waste Of Time
Waste Of Space
Like A Plant
That Is The Only
Hope For Earth
To Live Again
They Throw Me
Away And Life
Away
~Paris Styron~

When I Write
I Am Never Wrong
Of What I Feel
~Paris Styron~

At Least I
Have A Person
With The Arms
Of A Heart
~Paris Styron~

You Are Like
Earth
Peaceful
Beauty To Look
At
Unlike The Sun
You Do Not Burn
My Eyes
But, You Do Burn
With Burning
Beauty Of
Passion
In My Eyes
All The Time
Where It Is Quiet
Where No One
Is Around
Because You Are
The Only One
That Understands Me
As My Tears
Fall
Beauty Rises
With A Heart
Like Life
It Is Worth
Living For  
~Paris Styron~

The Night
Of Hope
Has Arrived
Only You And I
Survive
The Night
You And I
Moon,
Survive
Through Nightmares
Through Tough Times
Which Are
Strong
Being Alone
In Solitude
~Paris Styron~

The Wolf
Journey
Is A Path
No One Takes
I Take It
In Solitude
In With Passion
For It Is Peace
That Brought Me
Here
From This Day To
Be Alone In
Solitude
With
Universe
In My Paws
As I Float
The Night
And Elevate
And
Float In The
Air
The Universe
Is With Me
~Paris Styron~

Calm Of The Moon
Of The Night
Where Black
And White
Is Your Light
A Scar
That Is A Scar
That Will
Be Never Forgotten
~Paris Styron~

Moon Of Tears
I Am Here
For You,
I Hear Your
Howl
Of Cries
Of The Innocent,
Evil
Lingers These
Lands,
Land Of The
Innocent
Being Slaughtered
Save Me
Moon Of Tears
For My Tears
Fall As Rain
Fall As Sorrows
Of The Innocent
~Paris Styron~

Give
Me
Things
Made
Of Gold,
Not
Pennies,
Give
Me Words
That
Are
Like
Gold
That
Shine
Not With
Ego,
But
With
Humble
Utterness
Of
Untouched
Gold
That
Only
Few
Can
Touch
~Paris Styron~

Give
Me
Things
That
Not
Make
Me Happy
Giving
Will
Only
Make
More
Lonely,
The Only
Thing
Is
YOU
~Paris Styron~

I Am
A Wolf
Twinkling
Between
The
Stars
Sword
Held
High
In Life,
Slaying
Challenges
Through
Blood,
Trama
And
Gore,
Between
Each
Star
Is Hope
Of
Perspective,
"That Is
What Gold"
That IS
STARS
Reflecting
On
My
Sword
Of
Hope
Of Dreams
Between
The
Voices
Between
My
Eyes
I See
A Tunnel
Worth
Slumbering,
That
Is....
Family
~Paris Styron~

Give Me
A Moon
That
I Can
Sit,
Ponder,
With Someone
Before
The
Dawn
Arise
Give
Me
The Power
Of
Which
Is Called
Perspective
"The Almighty
Encrusted
Sword"
~Paris Styron~

Why
Are
Some
Stars
Thrown
In
The
And
Turn
To Dust
~Paris Styron~

I'm very tired
And it's very late at night
My thoughts keep me up
It's getting harder to fight

I think about my failures
And everything I've done wrong
How I **** everything up
It's all a familiar song

My words are getting literal
I can't disguise my guilt
The hatred for myself
In every direction it's built

Well rhyming gets so hard
When I try to write my mind
Because I'm unable to find the words
That could shed light

Even without a rhyme or a rhythm I find it hard to articulate these dangerous thoughts I have. As many writers do, we have this sense of frustration because no combination of syllables can really portray the emptiness and sadness that lives in us. Styron called it "melancholia", but not even that will suffice.

Your Wings
Make Me Fly
And Cry
My Day
With Joy
Realizing That;
Life Is A Gift
From The Unknown
Of The Creator
We All Have
Wings
That Are Black
And
Ones That
Are White
You Must
Learn
From Them
Like A Bow And
Arrow
You Must
Learn
And Comprehend
The Day;
The Last Thing
Is To
Think
About Your
Day
Of What You
Have Done
To Learn
A Better
Tomorrow
~Paris Styron~

Your Wings
Carry
My Sadness
Away
And Bring
Tears
To My
Daring
Darling Eyes
Your Eyes
Hang
My Tears
With Yours
In My Wings
I Cherish
Those
Tears
Until The
End
Because Your
Tears
Will Never
Drop
The Same
As Another
Soul's
Tears
Would
Love
Until
The End
~Paris Styron~

When We
Love Someone
Our Tears
Mix With Sugar;
Of Happiness
And Joy
~Paris Styron~

As I
Take More
Pain
I Look
Into Your
Eyes
Of How
Your Soul
Really Is
~Paris Styron~

My Heart
Forever
Free
It Has
Been
A Decade
Since
The
Love
Of My
Life
Has
Been Lost
Forever
In The
Sea
With
The Seagulls
For Our
Goal
Is
To Fly
Survive
The
Waves
Of Life
I Walk
Alone
In
The Strings
Of
My Guitar
Plucking
Each
Note
Of
My Own
While
Solitude
Listens
Peace
Has
Found
Me
In
The Depths
Of Silence
~Paris Styron~

The
Moonlight
So
Bright,
Yet
So Far
Away
From
Grasp
Yet
So Close
To Our
Hearts
For It
Shines
In Our
Darkness
Letting
Us
Know
That
Hope
Is Here
In
This
Darkness
~Paris Styron~

This
Home
Forever
Flies
With
The
Seagulls,
Forever
Fly
And
Between
The
Shadows
Is Our
Hopes
And Dreams
Wish
Them
And Make
Them
Before
They
Diminish,
Fly
With
The
Stars
Before
Time
Ticks n'
Tocks
~Paris Styron~

Fly
Until
You Cannot
Fly
Nomore
You
Were
Given
The
Chance
To Fly
Use
It
My Friend
Fly
And
Survive
~Paris Styron~

i only started collecting a library, because, would you believe it, my local library was a pauper in rags and tatters; apologies for omitting necessary diacritic marks, the whiskey was ******* on icecubes to a shrivel.*

ernest hemingway, e.m. forster, mary shelley,
aesop, r. l. stevenson, jean-paul sartre,
jack kerouac, sylvia plath, evelyn waugh,
chekhov, cortazar, freud, virginia woolf,
philip k. ****, dostoyevsky, aleksandr solzhenitsyn,
oscar wilde, malcolm x, kafka, nabokov,
bukowski, sacher-masoch, thomas a kempis,
yevgeny zamyatin, alexandre dumas,
will self, j. r. r. tolkien, richard b. bentall,
james joyce, william burroughs, truman capote,
herman hesse, thomas mann, j. d. salinger,
nikos kazantzakis, george orwell,
philip roth, joseph roth, bulgakov, huxley,
marquis de sade, john milton, samuel beckett,
huysmans, michel de montaigne, walter benjamin,
sienkiewicz, rilke, lipton, harold norse,
alfred jarry, miguel de cervantes, von krafft-ebing,
kierkegaard, julian jaynes, bynum porter & shephred,
r. d. laing, c. g. jung, spinoza, hegel, kant, artistotle,
plato, josephus, korner, la rochefoucauld, stendhal,
nietzsche, bertrand russell, irwin edman,
faucault, anwicenna, descartes, voltaire, rousseau,
popper,  heidegger, tatarkiewicz, kolakowski,
seneca, cycero, milan kundera, g. j. warnock,
stefan zweig, the pre-socratics, julian tuwim,
ezra pound, gregory corso, ted hughes,
guiseppe gioacchino belli, dante, peshwari women,
e. e. cummings, ginsberg, will alexander, max jacob,
schwob, william blake, comte de lautreamont,
jack spicer, zbigniew herbert, frank o'hara,
richard brautigan, miroslav holub, al purdy,
tzara, ted berrigan, fady joudah, nikolai leskov,
anna kavan, jean genet, albert camus, gunter grass,
susan hill, katherine dunn, gil scott-heron,
kleist, irvine welsh, clarice lispector, hunter thompson,
machado de assisi, reymont, tolstoy, jim bradbury,
norman davies, shakespeare, balzac, dickens,
jasienica, mary fulbrook, stuart t. miller,
walter la feber, jan wimmer, terry jones & alan ereira,
kenneth clark, edward robinson, heinrich harrer,
gombrowicz, a. krawczuk, andrzej stasiuk, ivan bunin,
joseph heller, goethe, mcmurry, atkins & de paula,
bernard shaw, horace, ovid, virgil, aeschyles,
rumi, omar khayyam, humbert wolfe, e. h. bickersteth,
asnyk, witkacy, mickiewicz, slowacki, lesmian,
lechon, lep szarzynski, victor alexandrov, gogol,
william styron, krasznahorkai, robert graves,
defoe, tim burton, antoine de saint-exupery,
christiane f., salman rushdie, hazlitt, marcus aurelius,
nick hornby, emily bronte, walt whitman,
aryeh kaplan, rolf g. renner, j. p. hodin, tim hilton... etc.

Life Isn't
Worth Living
Only For
Beauty And Power
No Difference
No Acceptance
Of The
Horrifying
Shackles
Hanged
On The
Ceilings
Is Our
Blood
Run On
Power
Of Money
Is It?
We Are
Like Machines
Only
To Work
Work And
Work
Until
We Die
With Lies
Of Society
That Turn
Love
Into
Greed
~Velocity Of Life~
~Paris Styron~

The Stars
Were
Preordained
Before
Even
Humans
Layed
Eyes
On Earth
Earth
Cried
When
Humans
Hit This
Planet
With
Cruelity
As We
Lived
Cruelity
Grew
Beyond
Many Worlds
Before
The Stars
Even
Moved
Or Aligned
In The
Sky
I Ask
Myself
Who
Are We
What Are
We
Why Are We
Here?
For Living
In Cells
In
The Frozen
Sky
Called
Home
Of Cruelity
I Would
Rather
Die
Than
Live
To See
The Stars
If That
Were
The Case
Unless
I Were
To Be
At Peace
For Eternity
~Paris Styron~

Was
There
Peace
Before
Humans
Were Created
When
The Stars
Were
Preordained
Before
Even We
Were
Here
~Paris Styron~

The
Stars
Aligned
In Tears
Of Sorrows
Even When
They
Were Young
Even
When They
Are
Cold
Shattered
Stones
In The
Space
Of
The Unknown
As Humans
Were
Created
They Cried
Let Cruelty
Die
While
Innocent
Live
But You
Can't
Save Them
All
~Paris Styron~

The Only
One Left
Here A Stain
On My Heart
That Tells Us
Apart
Our Bars
Are Divided
By Love
We Were Born
All Alone
Here
In A Cell
Awaiting
For Our Jailbreak
For Our Lives
To Be At Steak
To Be Free Of
Our Lives
Without Chains
Without Hate
We Are, Innocent
Of The River
Who Have Cried
Our Hearts Out
But Always
Unheard
Always Abandoned
In The Cell
B59 It Is
I Have No Name
I Am A Lone Survivor
Seeing Blood
On Every Corner
Pawprints
Smeared In Killers
Blood
I Must Get Out Of
Here  
I Am A Wolf
With A Chain Over
My Heart
~Paris Styron~


B59 Is My
Name It Is
A Scar That
Has Numbers
That Are Black
And White
With Strips
59 A Number
A List
Of Neglect
Of Hatred People
Have Given Me
Long Enough
Loving Prison
Is A Place
Where My Acid
Burns
Where My Pain
Burns
~Paris Styron~

B59
Is A Name
B Stands For
Burst Of Pain
59 Is A Number
Of The Number
Of Patience
I Have
Before I Break Down
In Tears
~Paris Styron~

Its Either Love
Or Be Loved
~Paris Styron~

Your Toxin
Always
Brings Sorrows
Of The Undead
That Always
Keep Tears
Crying
For The Dead
Toxins
Perfume
Your Blood
With Staleness
Of The Night
Your Pawprints
Never Could
Be The Same
Without
Your Toxin
You Feel Pain
You Hold It
Like A
Child
That You Cannot
Hold On
Forever
~Paris Styron~

Toxic
Black Roses
Grind
Between
Your Furry
Toes
With Despair
With Grief
That Always
Bleeds
In My Heart
That Cannot
Grow Apart
I Am A
Leech
That Cannot
Go Away
Because
I Carry
Your Diseases
Away
Infected
Pawprint
Message Of
The Day
Of The Night
~Paris Styron~

when they write about existence i just think of:
blinking out of every instance -
snapshots of life, vibrating to
a culmination of sounds
preserved in the Bermudas,
or simply the overhaul of νεως
anywhere with internet access
and twitter account...
existential arguments: each
and every insistence exaggerated
and later gagged on...
just like i think of theatre and poetry:
i think of theatre as poetry on
the menopause...
theatre is poetry on menopause,
the last remaining depth of continued life
having a chance in the Darwinian cold
of absentee hearts and economic cheese
graters with broken bows playing
out-of-tune violins...
when they write the word existence,
i can't take them seriously,
they later come up with the somehow
happy alternative of what's called life...
such sad happiness when blue in green
opens up so lazily like 5 a.m. on the
Camden High Street in winter,
when it's still Armageddon bleak black
of ghosts chasing shadows into a
revenge against the grave...
some say you never really turn 30 when you
haven't bought Miles' Trafalgar Sq.
prior, meaning you lost out on being 30 when
you turn 40, and so on and so forth
in that Zeno paradox of two steps forward,
three steps back...
yes, the Grecian augmentation of the w...
less sharpened edges...
but still a Oui oh you... then a flamingo flamenco
with the teasing all blues...
i don't know...
whenever they write existence seriously
to later want it to underpin life as such,
i take their serious offensive on creating a
membrane of cushion and powdering and repeat
their seriousness, leaving life aside to
do its method on all of us:
existence - out of every instance... based or
biased as out every instance, the pickled gherkin
perseverance, persistence (dictionary mode),
out of every instance... a slaughtered bull
for pagan sacrifice meaning: insistence;
thus ex- instant into re- instant
i.e., out of (every) instant into a repeated instant -
that which we all keep secret,
that speciality of ours we do solo to keep
the nerve, to keep the homage, like
some did toward Catalonia... but in our own
very special way... it's not such a big
foreboding word after all...
it's rather mandible when the scalpel hyphen
cuts it open... just words, such words
that allow such things to take place...
cut life open... well... you end up with strife...
and that's what it is...
but at least cutting up the word existence provides
a bed, a cushion, some covers...
perhaps because of its etymology bias...
life is hardly up there in the etymological arithmetic
times table... cut the word life open... and you
get no game of words, no play, just the end result:
strife... but i would hardly attach
too much seriousness with the word existence,
as i already said but haven't:
the Cartesian maxim is subjective... it personally
relates a man's translation of life as pleasurable
with a pleasurable experience of thought alongside it...
true to say: physical exertion didn't give him
the biblical presence of work - harder for the mind
to make a sandwich that isn't there than for
the body to make a sandwich that is there...
hence the revision of Descartes: not that he was wrong,
he fooled everyone with a subjective statement
like an artist might create a piece of work...
because aren't there people out there that
experience the joys of life, but not that of thought?
while there are also those who experience more
joy from mere thought than from life itself
that joy of probing someone into action?
there are equal numbers of each...
and so translating thought into being he revealed
to me how translating ex- into re-
we can attribute a variant (metaphysical)
interpretation of the nadir of Einstein's parabola,
since we're no longer dealing with Newton's vector...
translating ex- to therefore mean re-,
we seek to guide ourselves toward that one
instant where all passions are lost...
or to put it more bluntly... ever watch the non-thinking
side of this? no? are you sure?
to translate ex- to therefore mean re-, never seen it?
never heard of drug addicts?
as in my case... it's not the addiction per se,
it's what i do with it that's leveraging me
to continue... i could have succumbed to
william styron's darkness visible -
but you see... i write while intoxicated...
the relaxation technique works simultaneously with
a chance to stretch my legs, and do what
the devil would have said regardless:
i make word of idle hand that would have
lifted a hammer... fair enough to the devil...
the devil makes work of idle hands...
well, idle hands make the devil into a caressed cat
when the mind excuses itself from idleness
that the body assumes, to later turn into a poker match.

Your
Always
The One
Who Held
My Pain
Deep Inside
Tamed It
So It
Wouldn't **** Me
Inside
Your Heart
Knew My
Pain
Your Tears
Always
Carried
Your
And My
Sadness
Away  
Depression
Was Your Middle
Name
The Wolf's Eye
Was Always
Different
Was Always
The One
Who Knew
From Same
From Different
Never Could You
Be Another
Eye
Another
Star In
The Sky
Where
My Tears
Align
In The Sky
~Paris Styron~

Your Tears
Always,
Hanged
By Sorrows
Of The Night
Grief That
Always
Grief
That Fills
Your Day
With Fear
And Illusions
That I
Can
Never Unfold
~Paris Styron~

When You
Unfold
My Note
Of Pain
You Unfold
It
With Care
That Almost
No One
Can See
Where
No One Seemed
To Care
You Almost
Could Not
Bare
My Tears
Down My
Face
With
The
Undead
On The
Ground
Where Fear
And Death
Have No
Bounds
~[Paris Styron]~

Her
Tears
Falling
Into
Space
Tainting
Stars,
Beauty
In Her
Cries,
Her Bones
Screaming
In
My Veins
Of
Sleeping
Cries
Of
Where
Beauty
Of
The
Dead
Sleeps
~Paris Styron~

It Is
Funny
How
This
Star
Shines
Alone
In
The Darkness
Between
The
Hate
We
Hide
In
The Darkness
Avoiding
Destruction,
Ignorance
Is
Blissful
To Those
Who
Know
Nothing,
But
The Ones
Who
Know
All
Will
Feel
Its
Everlasting
Pain
~Paris Styron~

Give
Hope
To
The
Stars
For
They
Align
The
Tears
In
The
Line
Of The
Sky
For
They
Comfort
The
Sky
Filled
With
Sorrows
With
Tears
Beyond
The Grave
~Paris Styron~

Your
Always
The One
Who Held
My Pain
Deep Inside
Tamed It
So It
Wouldn't **** Me
Inside
Your Heart
Knew My
Pain
Your Tears
Always
Carried
Your
And My
Sadness
Away  
Depression
Was Your Middle
Name
The Wolf's Eye
Was Always
Different
Was Always
The One
Who Knew
From Same
From Different
Never Could You
Be Another
Eye
Another
Star In
The Sky
Where
My Tears
Align
In The Sky
~Paris Styron~

Your Tears
Always,
Hanged
By Sorrows
Of The Night
Grief That
Always
Grief
That Fills
Your Day
With Fear
And Illusions
That I
Can
Never Unfold
~Paris Styron~

When You
Unfold
My Note
Of Pain
You Unfold
It
With Care
That Almost
No One
Can See
Where
No One Seemed
To Care
You Almost
Could Not
Bare
My Tears
Down My
Face
With
The
Undead
On The
Ground
Where Fear
And Death
Have No
Bounds
~[Paris Styron]~

The
Silence
Is
More
Peaceful
Than
Words
Can
Say.
Forever
I Walk
Alone
In
The Mist
Of
Solitude
For
I Can
Now
Have
My
Mind
Dive
Deeper
Into
Wondering
Solitude
~Paris Styron~

Cry
In
Solitude
For
It Is
So Long
Since
I Found
You
~Paris Styron~

You Can
Hear
Your
Thoughts
Loud
And Clear,
Every
Sound
An
Echo
Every
Sound
Loud
Yet
So
Quiet.
The
Silence
Allows
One
To Hear
The
Quiet
Even
Louder
~Paris Styron~

Your Tears
Always Hanged
Next To Mine
By The Dark Moon
Always
A Needle
Pains Me Inside
Your Skull
Always Filled With
Tears
Mixed With Fears
That Always
Bled Blaring
Red
That Always
The Undead
Feed Upon
Your Screams
Fill My Life
With Terror
And Always
Filled With
Abandonment
Of Sorrows
Of The Night
©Lonewolf
~Paris Styron~

I Always
Weep
In The Shadows
In The Night
Where Sorrows
Light My Moon
In The Sky
That Is Why
My Pawprints
Leave Prints
On The Moon
In Tears
Speechless
Where Our
Tears Align
With The Stars
Of Sadness
That Always
Gives Our
Hearts
Away The
Night Of
Tears
Of What
We Cannot
Stay Away
~Paris Styron~

Peaceful Moon
Tears Flow Down
The Wolf's
Eye
You Were There
When I Needed
You;
Your Wax And
Wan Change
The Vary
Night's
Prizes
Of How We Feel
We Are All
Souls
~Paris Styron~

Your Eyes
Make My
Heart
Perfume
The Black
Roses
With
Heartful
Scented
Of Delight
Of Joy
Peaceful
Eyes
Listen
To The
Words
On The Ground
You Keep
Walking
My Pawprints
With Each
Step
Is A Step
Closer
To My
Heart
To My
Gold
Pawprints
Of Love
Only
One Have
Crossed
The Desolated
Snow
Of My
Sorrowful
Home
Of From
The Crave
Of Shame
"You Were
And Are
My Outline
Of My
Life
You Make
My Graves
Leave My
Sight
You Make
My Heart
Howl
In The
Night
With Pride
That I
Never Had
Until
Your Eyes
Laid
On Me
And Your
Heart
~Paris Styron~

The
Desolated
Tears
Perfumed
My Eyes
When
I Laid
Upon
Your Soulful
Eyes
Your
Tears
Followed
My Heart's
Pain
As
Did My
Tears
Hang
Yours
In The
Tomb
Of Sorrows
You Wish
To Wash
Away
The Scars
You
Show
To Me
Are
Stars
That Align
Our
Hearts
In The
Desolated
Lonely
Sky
We Were
Both
Dying Inside
~Paris Styron~

Good
Morning Moon,
Or GoodNight
Moon For
I Have Been Waiting
For You
Have Been Waiting
Everyday For Me
Thank You I
Welcome You
You Change Everyday
Just As I Do
You Ride On
Just As I Do
Everyday
~Paris Styron~

Oh Moon
You Change To
Full To Crescent
To Wax To Wan
You Change In
Feelings
Day By Day
With Spots
Dark Ones,
That Are Scars
That Shine
A Light
That Is
Like
No Other,
For Others
To Witness
As
An Example
Of Causes
And Effects
In Life
A Shine
Of Morals
~Paris Styron~

People
Gave Me
A Dark Present
That Lead
To Pain
It Was
The Best
Pain
I Ever Had
~Paris Styron~

Pain Is
A Present
Is Where
Learning
Is The Prize
~Paris Styron~

found in Styron's darkness visible... he survived auschwitz... but said adieu to life: by throwing himself down a flight of stairs.

millennial, generation y, huh?!
    also called the:
bearable heaviness of non-being...
   say: survivors of auschwitz,
and apart from Kundera,
i'm fudged into this stealth-culprit
     hangover...
   and when i speak the native tongue
i use double emphasis...
everything suddenly becomes italic...
    gówno... or ****... teutonic: gavron, ja,
ich habbe schtabbe ga ga, magpie on
              a licky-sticky schtaisse:
vroom bog-tie boom boom...
   everntually language is just that:
   magnifique sounds, mein herr,
    be that a cello i hear?
                      nada... mindlessly i too
  feigned a farting brigadier, farting into
       a brass horn: worth a gingerbread /
pumpernickle        marching rhythm.
yes, double emphasis in the native...
kosz (koš)... bin...
    trza błagać... błagać!
        o śmierć... beg for death...
             but hetman cossak said *smerc... and it
sounded altogether better.
   a household argument,
   after prawn-pasta was cooked throughout
an afternoon of general bewilderment:
        a heap of pebbles makes more sense
than the Orion constelation...
              given the mathematical approach
to the situation, and subsequent mapping...
   because they really did drop a bomb on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki...
                and that's why 21st creativity
is trapped in a hamster's routine...
    karaoke is standard...
                         this insissting plagiaristic zeitgeist!
so i said: you really think you conquered
yapan?            jesus, je suis, zeus, yesus, jamaican
                              jah jah *** buck...
      rasta root mon, rasta root.
    battered and bruised...
               someohow this whole dating scene
passed me by...
                     and what happened to me aged
21... is strangely becoming the norm
                       of giving the circumstance:
  i can't remember being of any age, particular.
  the quicker argument would coincide with:
    give me a machinegun, and march me into
a Latvian forest...
                   because, right now, it's
a scenario of being coerced into donning a leash
   or more like a leech,
                         and an afternoon spent
pulverised by a pneumatic tsunami
                     of adverts... calling it a job done,
with a siberian brew: cow juice in
                       tea...
                     liquid werther's original.

i still think
                                           that literature's       "      "
is better assumed as
     mathematics'                             ~
or what's simply abbreviated
                                    ambiguity, sort of,
as apologetics for Heidegger is concerned -
     that there is moral ambiguity in the interpretation
  of Dasein as ecstasis about, e.g. the war in Syria:
    but is that a self-serving ecstasis for the fact per se
    or that other interpretation for concern, which
with the above mentioned notation is a lack of,
       as in for peace to resume as common sense
      and less of what's suitable away from the apathetic
route, and indeed the ecstasis to shout for forced peace
            rather than see it all as without your moral
judgement with you being no moral agent in the matters
     that themselves have to resolve, without your input.
- and it always comes like this, cute little things,
or how you can condense all the theories surrounding
the psychological trinity into superego,
or that verse by Philip Larkin
        that begins wonderfully:
they ******* up, your mum and dad
  (this be the verse) -
  and the two other bits and bobs,
the Gemini scalpels -
       depending on how you wish
to make incisions into thought (or
any other moral quality, for that matter) -
do you wish to be a surgeon,
your own man as it were, and with the ego
cut your own story?
        or perhaps you'd prefer a butcher
psychiatrist lob pork chops of you
    with his depersonalising id?
         after all, he will say:
the laws of the state demands you have
so sort of i.d. (identification credential);
only the rich, a Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany
could ever fit the programme of Herr Doktor,
         Ode Odi Oedipus            Olé!
Herr... auto-****** means i have enough
******* on my ******* that
a gentle rub of the ******* gets me all
hot & bothered and juiced up?
   after all, the maidens of Egypt have
to have theirs cut and endure docile mantras
of why, why, why.
    and please, Herr Doktor, when
will Latin actually die? they keep saying
Latin is dead, familiarly like Nietzsche's god
is dead... but Latin isn't remotely dead,
  the blimmin' alphabet is still here,
how do i know? well, d'uh, i'm using it...
you say id             i say es
   you say ego               i say self
(then you make a Frasier joke about elves)
       and we go on and on in
this cat               mouse              game,
it's all a matter of fashion,
      they all said the above Mr. N was a
great stylist, after all an aesthetician is,
   and now they blabber on as if talking
Gucci pooch'e - this is dead, that is dead,
it's a fashion industry: but less obvious,
more inclined in       what you talk about
than what        you wear.
             said,
   '            ', he said
     "        ", he thought he said,
                                 or the narrator said it for him,
                         or the narrator thought he said it
for him, when in fact he didn't say anything
    nor the fact that there was anyone to actually
  say anything at all -
                 kinda a Beckett Watt moment.
           the Watt waltz, and that truly is a mind
   ******; as i sometimes wish narration was
kept in the Irish / Polish standard of notation
- and off we went to the poll booths.
- aye, and we vetoed rather than voted.
who would have thought that two ****-heads would
make the unlikely politicised duo of escapees.
             akin to Ulysses - but i get the
picture, the hyphenated compound words not
yet approved to be actual compounds,
        cite the Oxford committee for doing
****** paperwork, or none at all to modernise
  the Anglo-Smackson.
      ****... in the real world this could be
called pimping - but here... mm hmm:
peacock exfoliation - and i know it, so it's less
smarty and cared about: just... done.
yes, it usually starts rigid, that bit about
    Latin not being dead is extremely rigid
in composition - it's a sore the size of a ****-steak
   on my forehead -
            as is my lack of desperate attempts
to applaud Delmore Schwartz attempt to bring
    Finnegans Wake (the pearl in the crown
of all things difficult) to the people and the swine...
            so he didn't think Ulysses was
difficult enough? jeeze! and this alone reads like
a modern aversion to how young people are
drawn into mutilating themselves -
                  rampant ids             less acknowledged
Larkin moments in discussion:
        or perhaps the opera of suburban happy-go-happy-do?
       kids without even the foggiest of
the lysergic acid of Hanna-Barbera
                        and the Loons -
                                the fun-go-to lunacies of
cartoon network 20th century 90s...
                                       and hell: when we actually
        lived in times of toy story toys;
                 these days i'm getting the impression
a girl is probably going to play with a ***** than
   a barbie - must be the pink and the blonde
                         matched by the how many? jokes
    in mouth as in look doppio standards of not getting it;
but of course, the many other stereotypes.
            well, us kids, back then,
                          ah...         nothing like that coming again.
       summary... in ref. to the title,
   it's next days shrapnel from the debauchery of
the previous night, or why i write drunk and sometimes
get lucky sobering up and do not indulge in the bottle
      and not write something, and end up not writing
something like William Styron's Darkness Visible,
    who also drank, but didn't write and drink,
                  drank on the sobering up note, like
this poem. well, i figured, if i don't exploit the drinking
       as a sedative unwinding and be bashful
then, resolutely, the sobering up me is still making
  that blood wine:
                          and never did liquidating
   two kilograms of caster sugar in half a litre of water
             feel like handling mercury.

These Lands
Filled With
Blood,
Stains
All Over This
Place
That Was Abandoned
With
Their
Secrets Held
Here
For Centuries
Everyone
Thinks
Your A Monster
A Deviant
A Wolf
Just Alone
Here
Lying
Here To
Rot
You Are Not
Alone
You Are "Different
Than Others
That Is All"
~Paris Styron~

Tears Falling
With Blood
And My Tail
Just These
Nails These Claws
They
Have A Past
Written On Them
In Stone
Scarched Onto
The Present
These Nails
Walk
Walk So Much
Into The PawPrints
I Make
Thus Leading Into
The Future Which
Are Blank Snow
Covered Waiting
For Me To
Believe Try
To Take
A Chance
In Life
~Paris Styron~

I Always
Felt
Like An
Old
Soul
Living
Among
The Young
Learning
From
Within
My Very
Old
So Called
Mind
And Heart
Howling
At
The Stars
Clawing
At The
Pain
So Called
Mud
I Deeply
Wollow
In
Aligned
With
The Old
Strong
Stood
Stars
That
People
Look
Upon
Because
Of
How
Far
Away
We Really
Are
From
The World
In The
Cold
Cruel
World
Of The
Unknown
Frozen
In Emotions
Of Despair
That
Perfume
And Freeze
Tears
We Are
Left
Behind
Our Skin
Kept
Us
Warm
On
The Outside
But
Not The
Inside
I Claw
At The
Sky
Wondering
Was
There
Peace
That
Aligned
The
Stars
Or Was
Hatred
That
Spread
Them Apart
I Know
Not
What
I Do
Know
Is
They Stay
And Stand
Far
Enough
To Form
A Shape
Of
How We
Really
If We
Sick
Together
But Awlast
It Is
A Lonely
Uncherished
World
Full
Of How
Bright
Money
Can
Shine
In And
Out
Of The Sky
And Our
Eyes
Don't
Look
For
The Right
Of
The Greater
Good
That
For Which
Is Not
Gold
It
Is A
Hard
Trustful
Soul
That Is
The Key
To Life
~Words Of Wisdom~
~Paris Styron~

I Drown
In The Sorrows
Of The
Desolated
Sky
People
Wonder Why
I Am A
Loner
In The Corner
The Quiet
One
The Open
Minded
Yet Not Connectable
For Some
Reason
I Tell
The Truth
To People
That I Shortly
Know
And They
Are Great
Yet
When We
Talk
A Week
Later
They Are
Old News
Just Like
Happiness
Its Old
News
I Love
Solitude
I Am
A Lone Wolf
In My Heart
Only One
Can Join
She Can Only
Can
~Paris Styron~

Your
Pawprints
Never
Leave
My Tears
Even
If In
Ice
In
Dry Ice
Your
Tears
Unfreeze
My
Sorrows
And
You Made
Me
Have
A Purpose
To Not
To Die
In My Eyes
8 Pawprints
2 Said
"Hi"
2 Said
"How Are You"
2 Said I'm Fine
2 Said I'm Dying Inside
~Paris Styron~

You Always
Held Me
With Alcohol
In A Baby Bottle
With A Pacifier
Spreaded
With Alcohol
Of Hatred
Of Pain
That A Child
Could Never
Forget
Or Change;
Your First
Impression
Was Your Last
Impression

Everytime
I Look At
You
I See Blank
Memories
Of
Something
I Could
Never Understand;
Cruelty
She Said
"I Never
Wanted
Kids"
You Wanted
Alcohol
Over Me
And So
Will It
Be

Fortunately;
You Made Me
Feel Alone
To Know
What Life
Is Like
Cruel
Beyond Comprehension;
Sometimes
The Cruelest
People
Are The Ones
To Learn From
[~Paris Styron~]

Your
Pawprints
Never
Leave
My Tears
Even
If In
Ice
In
Dry Ice
Your
Tears
Unfreeze
My
Sorrows
And
You Made
Me
Have
A Purpose
To Not
To Die
In My Eyes
8 Pawprints
2 Loved
2 Cared
2 Sought
2 Fought
2 Said Goodbye
~Paris Styron~

Your Pawprints
Numbed
In The
Deep Dark
Lonely
Snow
Blood
Dripped
Down Your
Face
Into
Your Deep
Dark
Pawprint
Outline
In The Snow
And Turned
Me Into Blood  
Of Beautiful
Sorrows
That Always
Leaves
My Tears
Hanged
~Paris Styron~

If You
Listen
To Your
Heart
You Will
Follow
Your Pawprints
That Outlines
The Blood
You Leave
Behind;
Memories
Life
Isn't Just
A Game
It Is
A Creation
Beyond
Many Things
Beyond
The Unknown
Follow Your
Heart
Not In
The Eyes,
But
The Thoughts
That Come
With
An Individual
Everyone
Is A Star
That Shines
So Bright
In The Sky
To Light
Up
The Lonely
Sky
People Say
That This
World
Will End
One Day
For
Nothing
Lasts
Our Goal
Is To
Create
Explore
Survive
Love And
Enjoy
Our Lives
What More
Could We
Want
Follow
Your Dreams
For If
You Stop
Dreaming
You Have
Stopped
Living
Like Walking
Gently
In The Snow
The Feet
Carry
Your
Soul
In The Mist
Of The
Unknown
If You
Stop
You Have
Given Up
On Life
And Your
Dreams
~Paris Styron~

Truth Be
Told
By A Man
Of Sorrows
Told By
Depression
Told By
Scars
Pawprints
In Blood
On Walls
Filled
With Self
Hate
With Regret
Of Pain
Numbed
Pain
Perfumed
My Past
With
The Undead
Saying
Embrace
My ******
Claws
You Can
And You
Will
~Paris Styron~

The Gentle
Pawprints
Lurk  
In The
Desolated
Abandoned
Snow
Where
Tears
Wrap The
Cares
The Prison
Bars
With Sorrows
The Bones
Cry
In The
Lonely
Snow
With Scratches
Of
Words
I Wish
"I Was
Here
With You
The
Only Death
Worth
Fighting
Seeing
Hearing
For
Was Your
Heart
Of Bones"
~Paris Styron~

He Was
Hanged
In The
Prison
He Fought
For
His Life
Stood
There
In
Hopelessness
In The
Dark
Crying
For His
Life
He Was
In Brusies
In Cuts
Which
Led
To Blood
Dripping,
Chained
In The Air
Perfumed
The
Prison Bars
He
So
Called
Home
He
Always
Was
In The
Mist
In Hopelessness
In Desolation
With His
Wings
They Traveled
Then
Stabbed
And Hanged
From This
Day
Tears
Of A
Numbed
Wolf
With His
Tears
Hanged
In The
Very
Prison
Air
Of Despair
Written
In Stone
Was His
Blood
In The
Precious
Arms
Of A Prison
{Victory}
~[Paris Styron~]

Your Pawprints
Always
Infeceted,
Frozen,
In Pain
With Time
Never Could
Fine
The One
Like You
The Star I
Could Never
See
Again
In The Hail,
Of The Snow,
Your Pawprints
Always
Leave
A Trace
Of Pain
That I
Always
Unfold
With Care
That Horrify
Others
In Misbelief  
Of The
Harash Truth
That Always
Leads To
Isolation
Because Some
Wolves
Don't Understand
That Which
Others
Would Reject
Would Savage
For Any Purpose
To Only Help
Themselves
I Look Into
Your Pain
In Your Pain
In Your Eyes
It Freezes
My Soul
And My Heart,
My Tears
Always
Washes
Away Your
That Always
Makes Us
Closer
Love Until
The End
~Paris Styron~

A Flower
Will
Droop
Be In
The Shadows
Of Despair
At Times
Even Make
Despairful
Mistakes
But If
Someone
Were To
Change
Bring
Itself
Water
And Food
And Grow
From
Negativity
And
Shape
Into
Something
Postive
That Is
Me
I Was
Not
Born
Like
A God
I Am
Born
With
A Root
In
The Ground
I Am
Person
With
A Crack
In
My ***;
No One
Is Perfect
I Sure
As Hell
Wasn't Born
Like
Yesterday
I Hope
To Be
A Better
Someone
Tomorrow
Even It
Means
******* Up
Not
Every
Relationship,
Friendship,
Is Perfect
But The
Inperfection
We Look
Past
Makes Us
Greater
If We
CAN
Look Past
Each
Other
Faults
We Sure
As Hell
Can
Ride
In The
End
For
The Heart
Of Cupid's
Arrow
Is Sparked
By
Trust,
Faults,
Support,
Forgiveness,
A Bond
That Cannot
Be Broken
Until
The End
Even
In The
End,
We All
Die
But
Our Spirits
That We
Leave
In People's
Heart
DON'T
Fade
Away
They Do,
But
A Lighter
Is
A Spark
Is Always
There
Never Gone
Live
Is
A Hell
Of A
Run
From Where
We Have
Gone
Sorry
For
The Mistakes
I Look
At My
Shadows
That Reflect
The Moon
And Wonder
What
Are My
Faults?
What Do
See
In The
Flower
In My
Emotional
Point Of
View
~Paris Styron~