Anxious eyes

Nightly searing flames devour

Sicknesses that kept me sane. 

I lose it all when moonlight calls

And silence claims my mind again. 
Knock, knock, the branches come tumbling

Snare me in their jumbled arms

The rotten wood that lives in my bones

Screams at me to set it aflame. 
Blurry eyes see blurry paths

And stumble down them wrongly;

An hour spent in lost lament

The cost of vision that worries. 

silly story

It’s a Tuesday. The bell rings and you make your way to your math class. As you’re walking through the hallways, someone bumps into you, casually enough. They say something to you and begin to walk away. Only after they’re gone do you realize that instead of saying “I’m sorry,” they said “wake up.” Feeling confused and slightly annoyed, you soon forget the incident. After your lunch period is over, someone bumps into you again and scatters your books everywhere. As you gasp in dismay and bend to recover your belongings, you look up at the person. An apologetic look flashes over their face as they exclaim, “you’re in a coma,” and begin to walk away. A mixture of emotions, including frustration and annoyance, fight for dominance inside you. Only when you stand and consider the stranger’s parting words does the earlier incident resurface in your mind. Feeling a cold trickle of some chilling, silly fear, you swallow hard. But soon you shake off the cobwebs and make your way to chemistry. After the last class bell rings, you are rushing through the hallways to the buses when for the third time someone collides with you. This stranger seems aloof, diffident, as they toss four words over their shoulder in an uncaring attempt at an apologetic tone. Four words that make your blood run cold.

“Doctor, she’s not responding.”


It’s a good thing

My life is not lived seeking your approval. 

Because your sideways sleights

Your quiet niggling comments that creep into my mind

They would make me miserable

If I let them. 

No more. 

You are not a friend. 

You are a leech. I am done allowing you to feed

On my blood. It belongs to me

And while I would happily donate a pint to someone in need

I refuse to let a monster use it

To grow stronger. 

Consider this ‘friendship’


I          Am.              Free. 

A sore throat?

Thank you that I do not live

With straining heart and shallow limbs

Thank you for taking them away,

Oh how they both taunted me 

And sickly preyed on my family;

And colored me, cruelly,

The flaming sun-dead shade. 

Thank you for making it end,

The hollow half-hearts, screaming 

While my spine writhed within 

Molten muscles; shrieking bones. 

All the clamping voices that used to shout inside my body

I thank you now for the silence broken only

By an ocassional sore throat. 

to be human, alone

Climb the ladder, join the ranks! 

Coffins sing your praise. 

Fall in line (learn to let go)

Complete the rhyme —

“I’m only human, I suppose.”


As rivers of annihilation worsen human sin

Saturated storms of poison writhe within their tins

Find a can of spoiled food, cure the ills inside of you

Laugh and snap an empty dream to hear its lonely breaking-scream

Fight with teeth to cut your friends, kill the ones who helped you win. 

You should enjoy your rusted crown 


beware this most of all;

don’t fall (as you follow)

For nothing lives in the deep dark below.