Tag Archives: Sadness


Give me but a moment,  I beg, to collect these thoughts that much like incessant insects, buzz around my head so quickly that they make me spin. See I stared at a western horizon that was so black that the very hope was choked in my throat before a word could even be uttered up in prayer. I saw the world turn white at the darkest point and watched the world painted in cold. The red hill to the south was finally smothered in white as I fell backward through a warm moment and found a sick betrayal of momentum. I tried to stop the backward spin through the chaotic white hills that orchestrated the spin at the end of all time. The ashes splinter into a fractured sense of seduction, as the addiction turned pale and bled out all over the knights of perdition.

There they go again. Little bastards are constantly running away from me. It’s like a crackhead on a bender with two overworked cops thrown in a blender. See because they saw me, they assumed I was found. The blue stretches on forever, stretched thin over iced oceans and snow blasted desolation. I clutched so hard and still it seemed to slip my hands. I’m so very scared. I’ve seen the monster that lies at the far edge of the night. I was hoping for a dream that was worth fighting for. Hoping on a dream.

I would scream if I only had a voice worth hearing. I would tear the sheet that separates me from what I’ve done and who I’ve been. I would rip the flesh from the former to recreate the latter. I would spit back the pill and remember that the hole can never be fed with chemical satisfaction. I would prevent the constant spin that split the seems and left my childhood buried in black tar heroin. I would flee from the cold pale eyes that haunt the very air I breathe. The dodged bullet wasn’t worth the price paid in blood and life. The trip should have ended and the smile should still have been able to shine. Let them go. Please just let me let them go.


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Posted by on January 4, 2015 in Paradise Drift


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Corrupt Confinement

Blood. It is an imprint of everything biological in me. As unique as each individual snowflake that falls like regret from the glowing night sky. It holds all of me in the single drop that rolls off of my finger and stains the white world below me. Thoughts are tossed out into the flurry and are smothered by the oppressive cold before they even have the chance to fully form. I hate this part of the evening as the vomit splashes into the small dot of red drowning the beautiful evening in my sickness. It continues long after the last drop of liquid has been expelled from my stomach. What was it all worth? What was I ever really worth?

I know I will never see the answers so long as I’m still oxygen reliant and that fact frightens the hell out of me. The unknown darkness that hovers just over the horizon frightens the absolute hell out of me. It’s the ultimate spoiler alert. It’s the fruit that was forbidden and in consumption has obliterated the innocence of countless of tiny lives. The grains of sand roll out of my hand and crash back into the beach, only to be washed down and away by the inevitable tide. I see a man hunting to provide nourishment for his family. I see a woman tenderly picking up a fallen child and teaching him to stand once again. I see the hourglass drain the last bit of its sand as all of them turn to ash, and are blown away by a swift eastern wind.

If I could halt the unrelenting flow of time, I would hold it captive until its creator came back once again to claim it. I would paint the sun blue and dye the moon red. I would grip the lecherous monsters and chain them in cast iron cuffs, to be tossed into the deepest parts of the oceans. I would bathe the world in harmony and separate them from the vengeance burning inexplicably in all of our hearts. Instead, I will turn to ash and I will be blown away.


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Posted by on October 26, 2014 in Paradise Drift


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Bipolar Mine Trap

The kitchen cabinet opens like the curtains on a disgusting play, and inside she is chained up much the same way a rabid dog would be, sitting on her knees with a face covered in running mascara and food. Her moans are pitiful and haunting all at the same time. He closes the cabinet door with tears streaming down his face and turns and walks from the ragged house in the middle of the crooked wood, leaving behind the only thing he never wished to see.

The pistol feels cool and comfortable in the palm of his hand, almost as if it was invented and manufactured for this very purpose. He inhales softly and remembers the cold stone catacombs where he left his childhood wonder entombed. Chemical dreams and restless wandering took over the sandbox and toy soldiers that used to be enough. Medicated and halfway through the point of no return he realizes that he long ago forgot that magic was real and ghosts could kill. His temples are throbbing along to the beat of his weary heart as he places the cold steel against his forehead. The gun clicks upon an empty chamber and he surrenders to the fact that even this he can’t help but screw up.

The faces of long forgotten acquaintances stand in a row on either side of the pathway he finds himself walking down. They smile and greet him with as much empathy and excitement as a porn star would muster in an actual Hollywood production. He can feel the fakeness along with the anger as he finds the brick door and pushes it open slowly. Inside he sees a room adorned with crimson curtains around bricked up windows and a simple bed covered in blood splattered white sheets. Laying in the middle of it so still and gruesome is the one thing that finally holds some kind of emotion for him in this strange land. Her hair is black as the darkest night and her skin as pale as January snow. He moves next to the bed and presses his finger into her wrist. The pulse is faint but clearly there for one such as him to find. He lifts the limp woman into his arms and turns to the door only to find it gone. She is placed lovingly and oh so carefully back onto the bed where he found her and then he frantically searches the four brick walls for a way out. The bricks are as solid as the mortar used to hold them in place, still he punches and slams his body against them until blood coats his hands and bruises decorate his shoulders. Finally he moves back to the bed and the woman so still upon it. He tries to find a pulse, but he already knows there will be none.

Once the tears finally run dry and he is able to pull his face from hers, he turns and sees the doorknob that was not available to him when he so frantically and fanatically had searched for it. It was not available while it would have mattered. Once again he scoops her into his arms, only this time she feels so much heavier and also unbelievably cold. The door opens, and he sees a vast green meadow, stretching on for as far as his eyes can see. A concrete path mars the landscape and seems ridiculously out of place among the shin high grass and wildflowers sprinkled throughout. He follows it for what seems an eternity, with the corpse of the woman he never knew tucked lovingly against his chest, until off in the distance he makes out the faint shape of a tree. It grows as he closes the gap and he sees that the path will end at its base. He hits his knees when finally he reaches the end of the path and sits his precious cargo against the massive trunk. The tree seems to come alive in that moment and opens up to pull the cold corpse into itself. Where the woman once sat, only moments before, there is only bark. He rubs his hand lovingly against it and turns back to the path behind him. His footsteps are heavy and his hands shaky, and all the while he fights the urge to look back.


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Posted by on October 15, 2014 in Paradise Drift


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Exorcise the Mind

Reworked metaphors built upon the ashes of infinite bodies hover like a poisonous cloud above us. I only ever wanted a clean slate but the eraser was rubbed dry and the ink wouldn’t budge an inch. I often wonder if it would matter at all anyway. The world seemed to softly fall into gorgeous bonds of nihilistic chains as the sun faded to black and the stars, well the stars would have shined if they hadn’t all overdosed on chemical dreams and fractured circumstance. My head hurts holding it all in day after horrid day. The crimson stain left behind was washed clean by the callousness of yesterday and the smile was forgotten the moment the twinkle died out from his eye. What could I ever fucking say to make this world right itself again? What could I ever fucking hope to say?

Attention? Fucking please. I would rather dwindle into dust with honor and quiet contemplation alone. All I’ve ever had is my mess of angst ridden thoughts and splintered disbeliefs. I was left alone and thank god for that. Thank God my cancer has been contained and nailed down with plastic smiles and hopeful wishes. I cast the reflection upon the surface of glass lakes covered with the mists of forgotten emotions and broken hopes. The tears ran dry, as dry as my corpse will one day rest at the bottom of a six foot drop, as will all of yours. So I should persue the golden goblet, I should clutch it to my cold chest and pray that it shall earn me redemption at the end. I should… but I never fucking will.

Admittedly maybe I’m more than slightly lost. Maybe I fell through the looking glass and was tossed out the other side with this malicious smile in place. Maybe I was born the maniac I was always meant to be. I rage against the nightmares that stalk me like fresh prey in a predators hunting ground. They always end the same way my life will. I wake blessed with one more day of knowing that I’m still fucking nothing.

Only the young die good and free. Just let it come fast. Let me end the same way I began… oblivious.


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Posted by on October 8, 2014 in Paradise Drift


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The light wind sheds sweet air through the tent as the chilly air numbs the nose. The fire that appeared dead just minutes before bursts into life cascading warmth into the morning.

The demon dressed in gray wades through the open water trailing crimson in his malicious wake. A small smile is curling its way onto his bone white face, almost as if the whole world shall soon be his.

The snake had struck from nowhere entirely too fast. The venom had already eaten away most of his ankle when his internal organs began to fail. Staring out into the vast expanse of sand before him, his crawling ceased as he surrendered to his back. The stars greet his eyes and infinity peels back her eyelids to accept him into her bosom.

A congregation dressed in black and grey gathers at the shore. The small urn is passed amongst those with the wettest eyes. A man with an important looking hat whispers a few words into the heavy wind and sends the ashes of yesterday into tomorrows waters.


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Posted by on September 13, 2014 in Burned.


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Hand in Sand

Inevitability shall run its course and the courier shall bleed out and turn to dust. Eternity is vast and complicated by human hubris and bloodshot pride. The bullet resting in the chamber is getting more than bored as the sun sets on another dysfunctional day. The bird struck the mouse and no one will ever know his name, no one will ever really care that there is no name. God it’s so damn feeble and fleeting, much like a star shooting its way across an open night sky, burning so bright, only to fade away.

Calm yourself… breathe deep and feel the air…  focus on the rush of the blood… bathe in the rush of life.

I would be here if I wasn’t there and I may possibly not push at all, if all you ever did was pull. Because the middle ran dry and was laid bare before the desert sun. The wind and sand wore the smiling thing down into unrecognizable stone and bone. A single petal from the first bloom could have saved the mind.  It would have saved the mind. It should have saved the mind.

So fight the burning hole pulling you beyond current vision. Understand that you will never understand and continue to blindly hate. I was what they made and nothing in between. So I stand apart from you because you can’t handle the reaper hanging around my head. It’s written plainly in my seemingly “passionate” eyes. A mystery wrapped in black and accompanied with crimson subtitles. You will never know for you shall never see… this vast black hole… that has swallowed the core in me.

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Posted by on August 30, 2014 in Burned.


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Emotional Wreckage

Scattered thoughts much like ashes splinter and are blown away. The focus is growing within the revolving shadow and is drifting further and further into the black. Whispered prayers are forced and pushed past walls of regret and crimson shame. Humanity is philosophy and shameful in its voracious hunger and selfish brooding thoughts. There’s no room for redemption in the land of the saved and the perpetually damned, no resurrection available to the dirty and shamed. Tears flow like butterflies in the blooming spring air and the ocean changes pace with the moon.

The heat was assaulting with a side order of twisted desire and sweat flowed freely. The mountain gave way as industry pushed its crooked way through its rocky heart. There’s a warm wind caressing his naked chest as the whole world dreams away the gorgeous night. The fresh scent of the rain is interrupted only by the hint of peppermint whispers and hay fever screams. A moment spent in quiet contemplation as the blood slowly drys across the flesh covering his bitter heart. The door closed ever so softly that day and his heart cracked to the rhythm of the falling rain.

Three times two in triplicate. He died a hundred different ways in the time it took for her to paint on the worlds face. The knife was sharp and the wound clean. The bullet was as straight as the aim was true. The fall was frightening yet strangely exciting. The water was warm and embraced every inch of his airless lungs. Bridge the gap between love and death and you may still end up on your knees alone in the rain. Freak occurrences and ridiculous options turn into images of normality, leaving the stomach churning. Scent memory can never lie, but no matter. No matter at all. After all, he only ever misses her when it rains.


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Posted by on August 1, 2014 in Paradise Drift


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