Sunday, August 31, 2014


why would you ever land,
once you learn to reach the sky?
what can you hope to find,
in the dust that air denies?

give me the clouds dark and haunting,
the wind and hail and rain;
give me the unforgiving lightning,
and the chance the land will change;

give me the sun ever bearing
on my shoulders and my back;
give me the thinnest of air,
where I always seem to black--

Saturday, August 30, 2014


anything can happen
when anyone dares
to take these chains and shackles
and decides not to care


give me the silence
where words hold no sway,
a place to retire
and to put away

all the things whirling,
all that's left unsaid,
all that comes a'calling,
all that runs too red.

give me the silence,
and let all else fall;
I stopiing caring about you
and broke out of the walls.

untether me from falling,
untether me from flight,
untetherme from fakers,
untether me from fright.

so I've got an attitude,
so call me names before my back,
I didn't come here for lovin'
I came to pay for hacks

give me the silence
to find silence inside my head;
when all else is spinning
I want stillness instead.


my wings are clipped
I can't get high
trapped a'ground
instead of a'sky

wings of flight
keep my mind
working right

ride two wheels
forget the bike
looking up
the sky a'sight

worlds of light
keep my mind
out of the night

my body heavy
my soul so free
a-chained by
possessions, feet

all the sky
keep my mind
turning left

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Umbrae Enim Lucis - Shadows of the Light

“Here’s the deal: one day, you’ll receive a phone call. It will be a phone call, not an email or a text message. It will come from a number you’ve never seen before and will never see again, but it won’t come up as private or unknown. We don’t expect you to pick up; rather, we hope you don’t. Let it go to voicemail.

“The message will tell you what the first step is. Just the first step. When you’ve completed it, you will be provided with the second step, and it won’t come in the same form, but it will be made obvious to you that it is the next step.

“The call may not come for years. The call may not come in your lifetime. If you have sons, it must be passed to your second son. If you have one son, you must pass these instructions to a second male child of a member of your family. If no such child exists, you must join a Big Brother program and raise a surrogate heir.

“Understand me when I say that you must do this. If you find yourself unable to commit for any reason, you must select someone under these guidelines to succeed for you. If you fail to find an heir—and I say this with regret—you and your successors will suffer, but you will never know the source of their suffering, as the people who will be watching you will be receiving very much the same instructions as these. Even I received instructions such as these, years ago, but my call came in.

“I cannot stress enough that your line has been selected with good reason, and I hope you never learn that reason, or learn the suffering that will follow if you fail to perform. If I were a religious man, I would pray for your soul; if you are a religious man, I would ask you to pray for mine.

“This is not a joke. This is not a scam. This is more than just the minor suspicion of conspiracy you find yourself wondering about at this very moment. And yes, I know you disdain conspiracies and hidden networks and suspicions of such; I know because I was once in your very shoes.

“Please, take my word for it, let it reside in your heart that this is not intended as punishment, but a chance at eternal salvation. Do what is asked of you, and I know you will be rewarded much as I have.

“I hope you never receive the call, and I bid you a good day.”

He was only one of the calls I made that day, and they were all very much the same.


My mother told me a story, a long time ago, that I must be groomed for a duty. She couldn’t tell me what that duty was, only that she feared for my soul and the strain that keeping such a secret would put on me and those I might come to love.

Thursday, August 7, 2014


This isn't a vacation
It's a journey out of hell.
The bricks drop without warning
Just when I start getting well.

This isn't a pleasure cruise.
I don't like my absent days.
I spend the time trapped in my mind
And sorting out the greys.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

The Straightest Line I've Ever Drawn Freehand (Mature)

Mature Content

Caress my skin with the blade,
Feel the offer to bite,
To slide in softly worshipping
To kiss and make things right.

Steel's promise to release
The pain long held inside;
No more disappointments made
And trapped beneath my hide.

Make a solemn sacrifice
To gods who hear no cries
Bleed upon the empty altar
And stop eating my own lies.

Tracing lines with steel
Warm and soft and light,
Pictures seen only by me,
Showing my internal fight.

No papyrus beneath the pen,
No strong, immobile stone,
No animal meat to eat,
Just me and my skin alone.

What's beyond I cannot say,
But I know enough to guess
Maybe nothing, maybe something,
But all things I will address:

There could be only darkness,
The nothing I embrace,
I just stop, the world goes on,
Without my solemn face.

There could really be hell
And I might suffer for my sin
Of doing Death's job myself
Instead of waiting for him.

There could be rebirth,
Perhaps compensating for my life,
Maybe I'll be stone
And never know this strife.

There could be Omega,
A Point for all who've died;
I'll tell them you're sorry,
If memory makes the flight.

There could be a split,
The Law of Conservation of Life
Where the world just gets stranger
And a different me has died.

There could be an after image
Burned into this plane.
Forced to see but not affect,
Forced to see your pain.

 There could be a slowing,
An event horizon effect,
Where I slowly get closer,
But never manage to defect.

They say the pain will fade,
Take with it the wish to die,
But the Hotline doesn't know
 How many times I've tried

To curl into a ball and wait,
Wish the hurt to fade away,
Twenty blasted years of it;
I want to go today.

Everything breaks or flees,
Failing in my tries,
Giving way before my dams,
My pain and my goodbyes

Even the phone,
When I call work to say
I'll probably not be in
Because I killed myself today.

Sitting bedside dressed to go,
With a penline on my wrist,
The Straightest Line I ever freehanded
And it's where I want the kiss.

Saturday, August 2, 2014


I can see where they all failed. The world and my choices have never been more clear, and yet, I can never reach those stars.

I have the mind to make it, though.That's no failing of mine. Where the fault lies is with the world: there's nothing happening. There's no change that needs to be wrought, no revolution that needs a turning of the tides, and even worse, there are just plain too many people exactly like me.

We see what could happen if everything went right. Why stop at a "murder by numbers"? Why not push the boundaries of what could be calculated to occur if only we were wholly rational?

Therein lies the fallacy that pulls down all world-catastrophe models: people are petty. If you can stop thinking of yourself for just long enough that there are things you need to do such that your world can survive, regardless how small that world is, the plan won't fall.

You see it in the games, the videos, and on the tv. Everything going grand and smooth until somebody decides, not to be selfish, but to be petty.

Everybody is selfish, and even selfless acts are selfish acts, designed, maybe not so much to help ourselves, but to make ourselves feel good. It's the pettiness that tears the world apart, the thoughtlessness. Give me a war camp with a thousand pimply-skinned, near-sighted geeks who know how not to be petty, and we'll take on any army you can find to stand against us.