growing around the break

growing around the break

Among broken monsters

We reside

Ones whose cores

Lay broken beneath tissue

Growing around broken pieces

Where humanity once rested.

Among broken monsters

We walk

Teetering between friend and foe

One hostile encounter away

From mutually assured destruction

For even monsters who hunt

Can receive fatal wounds

From prey refusing

To answer deaths call.

Among broken monsters

We share intimate spaces

Creating bonded ties

Prone to breaking

At a moments notice

We live with shape shifters

Flip floppers

Masked individuals

Who’ve grown used

To the illusions they broadcast

That mirrors are hated cursed and despised.

cratered steps

Dark clouds linger,

bloodshot eyes,

seeking permanence.

Tears falling—

an everyday occurrence,

seemingly now.

Dark clouds follow

every step taken,

feet leaving craters

from the load you carry,

whose weight

has become so burdensome

that your heart strains.

What we carry forward

We become
collectors,
archiving moments.

Experiences shared
become memories
to be recalled.
They become stories told.

Some become
tales of caution;
others become
badges we collect
of days long passed,
of youth long spent.

We collect moments
to heal from.
Some become repositories
where healing is sought,
for they display
all which we’ve overcome.

We filter experiences,
at times, never the lessons,
for experience holds credentials
of being the best teacher.

What the body carries.

This body
is a library
of moments lived,
of time’s passage,
like tree rings.

It collects seasons.
It holds scars
from moments
where life was easy to carry,
of childhood shenanigans
which seem a lifetime ago.

Born of one womb

when it ends

It ends in tears and blood spilled 

When demons refuse to control their urges 

To prevent dark thoughts 

From usurping power and taking over 

Embedding minds with a thirst 

Only spilling blood will quench

When will it end? 

This demonic plague 

Which cascades and fills beings with no remorse 

No empathy or sympathy for human life 

When will this existence end? 

When pain and bruises fly 

A consequence of men too weak

In both mind and body 

When it ends gallons would have spilled

Lives would have been lost

And souls would rotten and morphed

Into figures unrecognizable  

Yet we shall still question

What she could have done

While refusing to see the pain left behind

By beings too weak to see the error of their wa...

missing you dearly

when does time 

wipe this sleight clean 

make recalling 

the memories

I've shared with you 

moment which don't tear 

this heart apart 

cause tears

to cascade down 

uncontrollably 

I plead with time 

to make recalling 

lessons you've taught 

a feet unburdened by pain 

and the misery 

of contending 

that you no longer reside 

on this plain same as I 

I plead with the heavens 

to dry these tears 

which fall 

at the thought 

of yearning to hear your voice 

time is said to heal 

all wounds 

I plead with it 

to heal this heart 

which still breaks 

missing you day after da...

i need you

these moments cut deep

drawing blood

with every gash inflicted

this pain has me conflicted

hating that you gone

but knowing you at peace

and the pain you felt

before letting go

of your mortal coil

no longer resides with you

but i want you here

i need you here

to dry my tears

to stop this aching heart

to prevent these tears

from falling

because of missing you

missing your presence here

these first moments

have tears falling

my heart breaking

everything stands still

i want you here

i want you here

i need you here

preditors waiting

broken but living

there are moments 

when we question 

why things are the way they are 

when we question 

the existence of god 

when we dwell in our pain 

blinded to everything 

dying inside 

filled with grief 

the beauty of life escaping 

leaving a hole gapping 

and when we fall into it 

we refuse to stand and climb free 

but the majesty 

of seeing real struggle 

of seeing those who wish 

to know the things you know 

to se the things you see 

to feel the things you feel 

things which for granted you take 

the beauty of seeing life 

in those marginalized and forgotten 

can lift you up 

from the depths of despair

to show you that life although unfair...