From a Letter


your god or your light or the darkness
as your pillow holds your head and your
mind’s clarified,
the guardians that seek you from
seven divinities,
cannot null and void your own
vested trinity.

subscribe to this,
or a servant of that,
infinity makes all a reality,
and by definition,
cannot deny or hold back.

take it as yours, don’t let them
steer you away.
your own beliefs are yours with
every beat and
every change.

not some far off entity
on some cloud in the sky.
it lives in your heart and
it’s knocking from inside.


The murals of my mind lack the malleability to be words.

I condense and concuss and roll the pin with hopeful force.


S. C. A. 

Tt.     E.   Red.

Sha.  T.  T.      Ere.     


My own life’s blood turned streaks for clay to absorb.

Clumsy breaks the weakest bonds to settle on my floors.

Oh lawdy don’t let mah babies die like that no more.


In the corridor

I died. 

No way around it.

I had prayed aloud for it.

I knew no light would find me here,

And all of hell’s demons

Refuse to come near

For I scare them.

With a nasty heart 

Blackened by coal,

By the ungodly spectres

That will haunt my funeral.

They step aside as I walk

As if I were a queen.

The queen of the underworld.

Hate is my king.

Today, Tomorrow, Forever

In a world where expression

Is opening a vein,

And all the dead slaves

Serve their masters in their graves

What hope is there for me?

I know better than to hope

For happy endings.

We all know better than to emote

Our deepest feelings.

The end is nearing and

It’s no prettier than life 

Or death.

Nothing appealing

Awaits us in the end.


Every love I’d ever find

Would be compared to you.

Your half smile

Suggesting your meaning

Behind the scenes

Of a mind operating

At full capacity.

I picked up on every



Did you see me?


My blood is ancient.

Set loose by slits and cuts.

Generations pump thru my veins.

The hurt flows downwards

Far too much.

I cannot release enough

To keep my me in touch

With reality enough.

The heart hangs loosely

By threads too sensitive

To human touch.
My genes have cursed me.

The devil spills down his seed

Through generations.

I am broken enough by my father

To never belong in this generation.


I’m posessed

And I’ll be tossed away

For the hateful words rubbed off on you

Brought by my preordained inevitable

 existential pain.

Inevitable Dessert

The world may become


Like cookies dipped in cream,

But in the meantime

All’s not well.

The oven’s just preheating.

The cookies are mush.

Our cream is cow slush.

She won’t enjoy the squeezing.

Chocolate chips are unready

To hold resolve steady.

No one said baking was easy.