I’ve been feeling strange…

Can’t find a lane to stay

I brought my umbrella ….

Because the sky was gray

But really I just hoped that I could wash the pain away

But when they look at me this way…

I’m scared it’s here to stay

Ignorant to the feeling of being desired, what a lowly brute

Desperation of a sinner baring souls inside a Holy booth

Emptiness of forever feels like time only leaves holes...

Oh serpent sell her dreams, tell her I’m the one she needs

Make her long when I am gone, make her heart and conscious grieve

A constant cloud of angst and wicked pangs of my disease

Make my presence her only comfort, and my arms her lone reprieve...

The horrible day still replays in my mind. Packed bags, full of every object I own sans the only thing in this world that I truly desired.

Pride made me leave. I should have begged; I know she would have seen reason but in retrospect the only thing I wanted in that moment was for her to beg me. I lost my best friend that day to an overwhelming need to feel wanted.

How stupid are we to give up...

An Executive level Border patrol agent comes back to work after lunch one day to find a letter on his desk demanding that a major border patrol check point be shut down indefinitely within seven days or there will be serious consequences.

At first he writes the letter off as a prank from his fellow officers but things in his life, both personal and professional start to get more and more strang...

Over the hill, prime that has passed

I’m bitter still, that love didn’t last

Alone on this mound, armed with a flask

I sing to the stars, about girls from my past...

The words, the words, the beautiful words

The prose, the muse, the feelings they stir

The plays, the songs… dreams that deferred

The place where the loving and losing occur

When Shakespeare and Pushkin and Fyodor speak

It reads like rebuttals to Platos critiques

It gives my mind, often weary and bleak

A moment in time to relax and retreat

And ponder the future that’s written by Dick

…filling...

Oh the passion of my youth

the talent that gave me pride

The papers I would jot upon

then promptly I would hide

poetry of a wondering mind

of the future I would inquire

The lust of a lonely teen

the extremes of my desires

Played out on the pages

Like dramas on a stage

Till inevitably they faded

And withered with the days

Oh how I long for wanting

To fill journals with these words

Without the d...

The nothingness it comforts me, my ears could hear a pin drop

My fears can wait another day, my gears stop grinding tear drops

My worries calm, my woes disperse, the Rorschach reads like clear blots

A blank page for the author who always writes my faith in have nots

In that quiet nothings real…but it’s a battle that’s uphill

Because everything holds some weight…and makes a real appealing case

...

He’s weary, sometimes his actions cause him temporary angst

But his non pursuit of passions, causes regret he’ll never shake

Fear of failure shapes the the man he is, no kiln to make the stone

Just clay he cuts and shapes, never bakes, and then re-molds

On and on the process goes…a daydream that’s redundant

He can’t solidify his lofty goals, procrastination runs abundant

He knows Innocence we ...