This is me A collusion of broken pieces Seemingly fit together but between the cracks are empty spaces I seek answers in disillusioned places I learned the truth but felt no connection It’s all irrelevant to my mind and I treat it like an infection In my own brain the things I see aren’t the same I tell myself it’s everyone else but who am I to put blame? I feel ashamed To be a part of this web of lies and yet I don’t feel any surprise I created this by my own design And now I choose a different life But it’s hard to walk a different line When all you know has been embedded in your mind It’s twisting me up inside I’ll never admit that I lost I’ll never admit defeat When you see me you’ll never know the pain that I keep I wear a smile like a mask but it’s the only thing reminding me of what I strive to achieve:

A better version of me

Within silence, I hear the most I am just a parasite Looking for a host

Within darkness, I see the most I am not alive I am just a ghost

(This excerpt is inspired by my novel Welcome to Lakewood, a work in progress soon to be on wattpad!:)

It was the dream family destination. It was the idyllic ocean-side scene where a writer could find their muse. It was the ultimate vacation getaway, a marriage’s saving grace.

It was Lakewood.

The town was gorgeous and boasted everything Marianne and her husband Dorian sought after. Right next to the ocean, a calm surface of deep indigo, and bordering a lush and lavish forest, the most striking colors of hunter green and emerald shining in the sun.

As the couple pulled up to their new home Marianne’s breath was stolen. She had watery eyes when she turned to her husband, clearly expecting them to share in this emotional new chapter together. The look she saw on Dorian’s face was dark. The sun was out and making Marianne’s caramel skin glow, but Dorian’s ivory complexion was cast in a daunting shadow. She felt immediately withered by him, even though as he turned to look at her the gloom had instantly vanished. He smiled.

“It’s great isn’t it? It’s like from a storybook!” His enthusiasm seemed to match her own. Did she just imagine that horrible, demented look in her sweet husband’s eyes? She wiped her suddenly sweaty forehead and gazed forward.

The lane was overgrown with trees that looked fluffy with yellow and orange leaves, a light breeze ruffled them like soft feathers. Old-fashioned street lamps, authentic and vintage, lined the smooth and even paved cobblestone walkways on either side of the road, a warm oil flame flickering inside the glass tubes.

Dorian parked their expensive BMW in a driveway of a small manor. The spires of the three towers soaring were paned in solar, the windows themselves were reflecting beautiful mosaic stained glass. It truly was out of a storybook, a fantasy where a lowly servant girl comes to finally live at the castle. Marianne felt like a princess.

The fantasy was shattered like taking a hammer to glass, the pieces falling away. Marianne felt a distinct feeling of something horrible creeping up her spine. She turned instinctively towards a shuttered house next door to their right. A curtain fluttered rapidly, a shadow retreated into darkness. The whole house was grand as was all the others on this block, but something about it’s rundown yard with weeds taking command over all else was haunting, all the windows were dusty and dirty and surely brought in no light with their current state and the fact that most of them were curtained with blackout drapes.

And then the neighbor, watching them surreptitiously, instead of greeting them at the street with cookies and baskets of candles as is being done now with all the others.

No matter, thought Marianne. It’s not like anyone knows who she really is, where she came from, why she married Dorian after only six months of dating and swept him away from his family and friends to another state. No one knows anything about her.

But, as she doesn’t realize but will soon come to understand, is that everyone knows everyone in Lakewood. The butcher is neighbors with the pharmacist, and the delivery driver goes to the same little cafe by the post office that his daughters schoolteacher frequents. It’s all friendly smiles and neighborly favors, which is why Marianne chose this particular small town with its bright, happy occupants. She is sure that no one here would dig into her muddy past, though how could they? She’s done a hell of a job burying her secrets.

Welcome to Lakewood, Marianne, a little town where everyone knows everyone… and all their dirty, buried little secrets.

(Stay tuned for more!)

Day 266 Subject #13 Aha! Lucky number thirteen. This subject is proving to be quite promising. They accepted the inhibitor and injection and have past the point of the rejection period. Though that’s not to say it could still fail. I have many failures. Their corpses are lined up in the back.

But nonetheless! This one I have high, high hopes for. The others, I will mention only briefly as I went into carnal detail in my other entries, weakest trait was the softness of their flesh. Flesh is weak.

Number 13, my saving grace. They survived the injections, and their skin is turning into a hardened suit of armor before my very eyes! I poke the surface with a tip of a needle, and the tip is dulled instantly. Progress.

Day 267 Yesterday was a success. Today will be the shining star. #13 has fully morphed their epidermis into a solid, bulletproof wall of defense within 24 hours. Their vitals remain intact and their heartbeat doesn’t flutter or stutter. A strong subject, number thirteen. My career is going to take off, I will go down in history as the greatest scientist the world has ever had the distinct pleasure of knowing about, reading about. Bill Gates himself will invest in my company, the government will kill for this technology.

All I have to do is keep #13 from perishing.

Word has gotten out about my experiments. Not good words. People are calling me the Devil, a man who is toying with fate by committing acts only God is allowed to do. I say to them: if God has the power to make man invincible why does he not do so? The answer is clear.

Because only I AM meant to play that role. I was chosen by God to perfect his creations over time. There will be significant loss. Mutations have already been a burden to me, extra limbs and body parts shape-shifting and forming before my very eyes. Sometimes I find myself just watching the process, for hours on end. The skin as it stretches and concedes, evaporates like bubbling, boiling water to reveal a smooth, glass-like black surface underneath.

I am God.

Day 464 My hand shakes as I write this. I’m not sure how much longer I will be around. My other entries, my research, all my technology and formulas and science has been destroyed. My lab… it’s gone.

Subject 13 is nowhere to be seen.

The table from which they rested interminably had been thrown over it’s side, the tubes that fed precious vitals into its being snapped in half and spewed clear liquids all over the floor. The lights flicker now in discontent. I do not weep or distress.

Subject 13 is ready.

But… is the world?

It came upon me all of the sudden. A rush of golden light, or was it a golden smell? Something sweet and savory. Tingly. The announcement fluttered like an entity, a small butterfly, throughout my blood. My heart beat in my chest and my ears rang with tinny resonance. An overwhelming sense of something lost once returned flooded my brain until I thought I would collapse. A decision had to be made. It was either Xbox or PlayStation.

Both consoles were sleek and elegant. Both boasted top ratings in performance and stability. But the question still remained… and I knew in the deepest part of my soul, this decision would change my life forever. I had to come to terms with a collection of exclusives that only I had access to, me and the other loyalists who pledge their undying allegiance to the console.

I found the back of the line quickly, and people ahead were determined and trite, having locked into their choice like a commander with due diligence. Winter had fallen. The air was crisp and salty, and not just from the unwashed patrons of GameStop. No, something else also besides the chilling breeze from over the frosted mountain caps seen in the distance, something far fouler.

And this decision would make me or break me. Of course, why couldn’t I pledge my allegiance to both? I pulled out my tattered old coin purse, the binding worn. Like a small leather journal it opened to reveal not pages of money, but nothing at all indeed. I would have to work some magic with American Express and MasterCard, hoping that the combined forces of the two spell powers will be sufficient for me to grant passage.

But my indecision could kill me.

Harken! My woes of sorrow! How could I come to such an impossible decision? What could I do to determine, once and for all, who I want to give my soul to? The double doors are upon me now, only a few more steps to go. Then the path will be split by a spasm of conflict and color, the path to the left leads to a bright green field of wonder, whereas the road to the right is a cool blue forest of mystery and intrigue.

An ominous tone, a loud bell, alerts the GameStop guards to my presence. One with a look of utter dismay and misery, the shadows under their eyes ever-daunting to look at directly, waddles not with haste to my location. I could feel the soul-eating energy with which they thrive coming off of them in waves of discontent.

“Are you here for the new Xbox or the new PlayStation?”

Their words send me to my knees. Now I am the one in utter depression, angst, and terror. I rise my hands and my tear-stained face towards the Heavens, silently begging them to give me a sign. My voice evades me. My throat has closed and I struggle to choke out my next words.

“Take me… to the Nintendo section…”

A stranger looking in my mirror I don’t like who I see there He wears my face and he knows my disgrace He smiles at me

A monster looking in my mirror I don’t like who I see there A demon in disguise, he is planning my demise He smiles at me

What is that creature looking in my mirror? I don’t recognize who I see there He no longer wears my face but an intricate form of my disgrace And he snarls at me

The demon is no longer in disguise He has brought forth my demise But that monster looking into my mirror? Whom I don’t like to see there That demon I see

He is me