Hello Human.good morning,how are you?the questionasked as a formality,no time to hear the answer,just keep walking.I'm alright,how are you?I'm okaya shit replyto a half heart question.I've never toldthe same lieso many timesa dayI want to scream I am not alrightI'm pulling my hair out when you turn your backblinking back tearsin the silence of the library stacks,I am all wrongeverything's all wrongalright is just the lie that keeps me looking sane.I want to scream I am not alright,but the screams come out as whispersand the ones who hear won't listen.I'm dangling from the chain with a broken claspand I never wanted to fall so badly.but I'm alright, no worries.mediocre at bestI smile and save you the time.because the answer is unnecessaryfor a question that has no inquiry.
Lost in a life. (2014-07-14)I have to bless a roadThat sits on my mind;I will let no man take it.A primrose playsNext to the bladed meadow.A match made in heaven;But I'm lost in a life that found me.
We poetsAs a young boy, I looked up.Up to this towering man that I wanted to be just like.With bulging muscles and an expansive vocabulary of macho-induced lingo such as:crescent wrench, car jack, oil filters, sinkers and bobbers, and Budlight.Keeping up was a fight.A fight to remember which a Phillips head was and which was the other.On more than one occasion, even bringing him an Allen wrench by mistake.I had to soak in the let down face of my father with every wrong tool that I brought.Each. And every.Damn. Time.I could not be taught.Was he taking this as a sign?My lack of interest in fishing and boxing.Eventually, to stop asking for my help in the garage and instead seeking out my younger brother.Always hearing of fishing stories where I had been uninvited.I didn’t miss the grease, but then again, I wasn’t in it for thatI helped him with childlike enthusiasm, because I loved the bonding.The bonding of father and son, not so much the bonding of metals by the weld
PianoAt night someone plays the piano in my living roomThe song is mournfulAnd I hate it, the feelings it wakes in meA stirring hungerI find myself yearning for somethingNameless, resonating, the music echoes throughThe house, like a warm memoryHauntingClinging to the empty hallways There's a void inside my chestResembling the handsOf another soul
Cleansing FireCleansing FireA manifesto of my angerI want to watch the world burnI want to watch buildings crumble.I want to see fire consume everything,to cleanse the filth from the surface.I want to see it leap into the sky,unthinking, unfeeling, but moving.Moving fast.Beyond anyone's wildest imagination.Devouring, eating, destroying.If someone strikes you, do you not strike back?If they spit in your eye, do you not retaliate in kind?For my entire life the world has struck me.Has spit in my eye.And now, I want to return it's harshness back unto it.I want to see the world burn.I am no madman.I am no destroyer.I am a creator.I want to create a surface of ash.Do I have my reasons?Of course I have my reasons.But I will not share them.Not now.This is not my treatise on the moral degredation of the world.This is not my "how to" guide to fixing everything that's wrong.This is the manifesto of my anger.Of my rage.Of my disgust.This is the spark that lights the torch that lets