Unbridled Thoughts of the Mad

I no longer have any use for nostalgia. Thinking about the past is inutile. It serves no purpose, unless one enjoys self-inflicted wounds. From now on, whenever I start looking back on past years-good or bad-I'm going to gracefully glide across the room in my one-piece disney princess pajamas (Elsa and Anna, sisters forever) and … Continue reading Unbridled Thoughts of the Mad

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Before I grew old…

Before I grew old, I had hopes and dreams, I believed in things like God and other super-beings. Before all the death and chaos I thought I had a purpose. Before the infinite suffering and anti-climatic days I believed in happiness. Before I grew old I believed in innocence. We are all guilty, the only … Continue reading Before I grew old…

I’m not waving, I’m drowning

They stuff large quantities of food in their gaping mouths, jamming it in without thought. Continuing on like the entitled, pampered, spoon-fed children they never grew out of. These people, these overgrown self-important animals with unwarranted pretentious confidence, and egos unfit for the halos they borrow from the hat racks of the pragmatic. They have … Continue reading I’m not waving, I’m drowning

Peacocking Through Time

My defiance is one of many bulwarksI ostentatiously boast whenMy cloak isn't relevant.Part of a pseudo-diabolical guide-Inherited from my ancestors-To fool myself and others,In order to remainEnigmatic.There's a fractured lineScribbled in black sand,That vaguely bisects us fromWho we are andWho we pretend to be.An ambiguous grey area,That rests just below eye level.We're all denizens ofThis … Continue reading Peacocking Through Time

The Blue Pill

I hold close tomorrow's dose, Lazily backstroking through introspect,I tell myself, "Hey, at least it's not dope."My plans to taper were crushedWhen the compulsion ruptured intoa destitute of self-control.I know where this dismal path leads,And the Black Dog will be walking medown it.A deceptive malady that enjoysWatching me run in place,With the occasional joyride on … Continue reading The Blue Pill

Just One More…

He hears laughter in her cry's. Blood drapes the floor in utopian shades. Her cry's transcend into ambivalent shrieks. A lifetime of worries suffocate his sanguine dry mouth. Tremors ensue, the bottle beckons. One more drink, and he'll be done. Rescued by his flask, he steadily holds her, shedding whiskey infused tears. Swaying into promises … Continue reading Just One More…