The Wind

The shift in the wind was the worst I ever felt

the blow was hard and severe,

the ice stabbed where it didn’t melt
the face of the miles I went to find you

the miles I spent waiting, the trials I roo.


Garden Tool

The imaginative extremes people put themselves under to make themselves feel like they’re better than others is astounding. You try to be patient with their mindless prattle of how minor things people have done for them as the sign of undying loyalty, become the only thing they talk about. If they’re feeling more benevolent, they may give you the floor to say something, As long as it’s going to praise them.

You have to understand that some people only see others as garden tools. You’re just as useful to the person the last thing you did for them; which is never enough. There is never going to be a time when they’re self-reflecting on how they can better serve themselves and others. They love to do things as long as there is an audience of people who don’t care what they’re being served, as long as they’re served.

There is never a time to panic, but there is always room to make way for someone that doesn’t want anyone else to stand in it.

9:29 P.M.

Self-preservation should be a permanent vacation, but there is no wake in the setting. I’m betting he’s going to try one more time to lie to himself that he’s fine, but this time, apparently, he’s going to “mean it.”

I’ve seen this time and time again. He sends us into a tailspin that thing can’t stay the same and change has to remain. Thus deep down inside, he’s only trying to hide the significant fact that’s he a brute and a horrible man to boot. Instead of working on his aura, he instead grabs a bat and takes a swing at being a whole new person–a whole new being.

Now, it’s all about a secret wins and free spins as the parade goes on. He’s never going to settle what he has drawn to himself in the past, that kind of self-reflection won’t last in the game he’s playing with society. I applaud him once more as I consider this folklore I’m going to assume as reality.


I am

waiting for the days

where I believe I am something

and  stop telling people my experiences mean nothing

when deep down inside, I think they are something.

I project on to others that I am nothing

because others have more to offer

and I don’t have anything

I know, I can start today

to affirm, I mean something

I remember for a few days then forget about it again

Alas, I made a great habit

of reminding myself, I am nothing

someday, I will block I am nothing and

condition myself to believe I am something

but first,

I’d like to write down that I feel like nothing

on a day I should tell myself

I am something.


Trust is subjective and you can’t give into what you don’t believe.

I don’t think I want to trust that there is more out there than a casual stare into the night as the light of the world goes tumbling down into the causal roads that lead to nowhere.

There was a time that I trusted everything anyone has given me as a sign of peace, but it was only till recently I saw marigolds that bounded color to transfix a gaze that was unwanted.

I used to trust up until that point, but the end is to be made that trust is a distant memory.

Trust is subjective.


I feel like I’m floating in the middle of the deep ocean

blue, I keep things right for myself.

At any minute, things are thunderous. I can relate, It’s one of those things the ocean can’t help.

I see the storm head and the waters gilt and jolt me with it. I panic the same when I discover someone new.

The stormy weather leads me to the underwater graves of ships that never made it to land. Lasting spirits of the widows perched on hollow wood that gives false hope that understanding.

I am my vessel returned where the weather is going to take command.

My feelings about myself —it’s like an ocean; idolized as calm, but widely known to be disastrous.

Conversion Lost

Last night he complained to me “Nothing is real anymore.” he didn’t feel that he was here. Sure, the body was present, but he thought he was looking at himself existing as if he wasn’t aware, but was watching himself live through his eyes.

“Let me know when I wake up” He lamented as he crashed open his cigarette box. I was worried about his statement, but he was always too dreamy for me. I felt that he always spoke in code, and I was never smart enough to solve it.

“You’re awake. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be talking to me.” I hoped he would feel better at my dose of reality.

He explored his eyes in the sky as if he was looking for random words to put together. “No, I feel like a canary, seeking shelter in a cage.”


You would think they’re laughing with you, but in reality, they’re grateful they have someone to point their index finger and say, “At least I don’t have things as bad as them.” Don’t you wonder why they’re absent when you broadcast your achievements but front and center to prod and poke at your pain? Don’t be fooled by the ones who may claim they love you the most. Although some people care dearly, some are only around to gun you down with a comfortable shot.


I prefer the wicked wash over me like a gentle shower cleansing my spirit as I try to defeat my next enemy. Or so I say, the enemy is within, but I can’t stand what it looks like without. That troubled figure is me, and I don’t know what to do other than allow and nurture the darkness that comes over me as if my body is an impending storm and my thoughts the rain that floods low land dry.

What I would say to her

a response



I thought we parted on good terms. She wants to scream at me; it has not been earned. Although I love her mind, it was exotic.  I have to stress our “love” was toxic.

She never trusted or left me be. I would have given her my all, but she didn’t want to see.

She wasn’t a secret, that was a lie. She never wanted to come out, she swore I would die if people saw us together, she was never secure. I had all I could have. I loved her, so I endured.

I don’t care what she feels. I don’t care if she’s still sad. I have a new woman, and she makes my friends go mad. Well, that as a little shallow, but I have to admit. It’s nice to have a woman, every man wants to lick.

Alright, I admit, she was only for fun. I couldn’t be seen with her, it would make people run.