Another Day

Blank hands on a dirtied page
Wide eyed on an empty face
Tap, tap on a smooth surface
Head scrunched like a boiling furnace
Neck’s in knots ‘round an oozing noose
Dripping black from a losing ruse
Experience leaves a lasting smudge
On skin that prickles with a nudge
Black and blood
Blackened blood
I reach for quill to write something
My visions blur, I’ve reached nothing
And nothing is the ink I seek
For nothing leaves no words to speak
And with no words I lay in rest
Another day, I think it best

This is a poem about writer’s block.



I have been picked up by the winds
And the raging motion of the tides
Burdened by the cargo I carry inside
This fortitude of guts and skin
Let’s retrace these routes
In retrospect but never gesticulate

Stand on the stern
Watch as the waters foam below you
Or abide by the bow
Feel the winds of change dry your vision
The resistance which pushes me forward

I will protect your weight
As it descends the spiral staircase
Into the heart of the hold
Wherein lies a mountain
Covered but alive
I ask that you rest your head
And your body against the dirt
For I will keep it warm for years
As it will keep me moving
On and onward

I may never see the end of the horizon
The straight lines turn to peaks and ridges
Before I am fully submerged by the weight
The weight of rainwater gathered on deck
The weight of your body
And the flag you planted on the summit
That piece of grounded earth
In this moving vessel

So let’s sail
You and I
Heart and head
Love and dread
Let the waters wear us down

I realize I have been absent for far too long on WordPress and I sincerely apologize for that. I’ve just been very much preoccupied with my art over on Deviant Art and my music on Soundcloud. Feel free to check those out if you want.

I’ll be posting an art dump soon and hopefully writing a letter to the Universe so stick around for that!

As always, have a wonderful day.

Echo out.



I didn’t love him. But what is love to a body untouched,
Unsoiled by men that only exist in dreams
Whose hands embrace a ghostly visage and an empty rib cage.
And that was the time. Wasted in dream existence.
I didn’t love him but I could have. And then
I couldn’t have.
It was the bitter-sweetness, that acidic battery of L-words
That burned the insides of our mouths.
That burned the insides of my ears with his voice.
I didn’t love him and yet there’s this fire
Glowing within the joints of my elbows and knees,
Flushing across my neck, my ears, my face,
Burning where my chin rests on my chest.
It’s a slow burning rage.
How dare you.
How dare you.
And the written pages exist still in some vortex that’s intangible;
Intangible like you and those toxic words and my sympathy.
I breathed you in like I breathe you out now:
In a moment.

In a moment I will forget the exact soliloquy,
That self-righteous, self-loathing mocktail you spat in my face.
Because it was water and I’m liquid smooth.
And I chose to sink in your ocean because I told you
Que sera, sera.
A ceramic mask was on my face and you chipped away a piece
Only to find that underneath I was too fluid for your solid nature.
So you left me one piece less.

And in its place sprung a fatuous F-word.
Neverwas and nevermore.

This moment I will remember:
For once the clouds around your red eyes couldn’t see
And I saw right through your essence of supreme clarity.

I couldn’t love you.
Because I sold you and you sold me
Under the starless tree.

And that’s the end of that.


Tonight I Can Write The Darkest Lines

Tonight I desire the saddest lines,
and I’ll sleep with them till the end of obscurity

where our paths will cross
but never meet.

Tonight I desire lines of lust
as they ache under my fingertips
and throb between a single touch.

Tonight I will despise in lousy rhymes
that hold neither rhythm nor time;

begrudge us with unsung crimes
of mutilated mistaken mime.

I will wonder – as I have all along – why.
That all these stars align under my night sky.
That comfort is a softly glowing screen.
That darkness is light unseen.

Why do these visions blur with halos on hidden faces?
Because I could not know them without the darkness.
A darkness that sparks in vacuums.

Tonight I can write the darkest lines
where I leave myself with my thoughts, asleep in the sun.

Inspired by Pablo Neruda’s “Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines”


Could Be Wrong

Nights are long

In the soft glow

Of a screen that emits a light

A light that shines on the other side

Of a world

On a hill

In a dream

Dreams which fill all

When I die tonight

I will dream

In the hope of a long dive

I will retrieve you

And you will come to me

And we will leave this place called consciousness

Emerge from a tarn

In a world

On a hill


Sing me to sleep


You are draining
And when I listen
My speech is drowning

You excite me
With distant promises
So I wait and see

When you speak
You come alive
And I turn meek

‘How’s you?’
But I refrain
And so the silence grew

When it’s ready to break
Your mind is far away
I realize what’s at stake

It is you
Your attention
Your affection

You say speak
And I would have
But it’s bleak

I love your words
You don’t care for mine
So I turn into a bird

I sing you to sleep
The inflections cut against my tiny lungs
And the call ends with a beep

You have caged me
And still I sing
So one day I’ll be free

That day is near
It’s in the sun outside my window
It’s in the revelation of my fear

I absolutely do not apologize for the angst that is to come. Never was angsty as a teenager so let’s be angsty now.


Odes are for cowards who swing on imaginary chandeliers

I write this for the one who doesn’t know
Too fixated on his own contentedness
Too passionate over lost time and histories
Too far away to feel
Too damn far away
I smiled in that picture for you
I stared into the lens for you
I pushed against my limits for you
I’m losing my soul for you
And it tires me like your sleepless state
I need to regain my spirit and I know that
It is not in the hours I listen to your voice
It is not in the words I read
It is not in your advances
There is nothing for me in your advances
I thought this doubt was silly at first
That time could bridge the gap between brain and groin
But when you swing back and forth too much too often
From reality to fantasy
From me to you
From myself to the second myself
You must keep searching for balance
And you keep me off-balance
A few years down the line maybe
When one of us has gathered enough courage for a fast car
When I see you finally in the distance
When you pay the attention I silently ask for
When the memory is old and grey