I’m Still Alive

You thought I died?

Or how the indoctrinated say, “unalived”

because they fear the word Suicide.

Slaves to their Gods: “Like,” and “Subscribe”

You thought I died?

I’m like that wicked angel, that fell from God’s side: I have too much pride.

I refuse to run from the burden of life.

A gunshot to shut off the lights is admitting to your enemies that they were right.

I’m still alive, and I have so much still to write.


White Bones

Mirror cracks inside of me, no shimmer.

Black reflected back,

I prented it doesn’t bother me.

The hole it leaves is new to me,

jump down.

Corrosive waves burning me,

strip down.

Revealing all of me:

an endless sea of bones

all white,

all former me.

Up above, I’m banging at a glass.

Down below, I see the mirror start to crack.

As I corrode into a sea of bones, it dawns on me:

this search for light has gone on endlessly.

This pit of white grows with every passing me.


UnForgotten Words

Smiling electric teeth speak to me like flames through iron.

Blank and absent eyes scan past me, darkly.

All black, but they’re sight burns towards pyres inspired, unbeknownst to me.

Seeing more of me than I deserve to be.

Birthing new meaning and scope,

New artworks and hope.

I smile back, happy for words unforgotten.


Living Fast

I need to let go of the rope

undo the knot at my throat

step down,

and plant both feet on the ground

Life piled high,

in such a short amount of time

waiting to be buried in a landslide

Let off the gas

and stop living so fast

it’s not a race where the loser dies last

but an endurance game, that resets every day.


Cycle

Piranhas swimming in a sea of me,

eating all the light I see.

Worms crawling deep in me,

in the pits of restless sleep.

Having lost all sense of peace

doesn’t mark the end of me

even when there’s nothing left

a second me starts to breath:

I come alive,

as a rite,

and devour all the parasites.


Strange Dreams Follow Me

Future pleas follow me inside forgotten dreams.

Warning me while I sleep that my death is soon to be.

It shows me a world, visceral, and full of thorns: I’ll be torn.

and yet I ask for more

because my dreams also reveal my inner soul.

Tonigh I dreamt it sprouted horns. . .


Time Alive

Time plays like a soul.

It’s alive, and wants to grow.

The pull of when and where to go

shared amongst like minded tombstones.

But time defies

gets no afterlife.

It sheds the past,

like a snake.

Dead stars in its wake

unable to escape

the pull of its cosmic fate

Time plays an endless game

it plays like a soul,

wishing it could fade away.


Liquid Skies

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Liquid Skies 〰️

Coming Soon

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Coming Soon 〰️