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I have chosen a way to cry

Slowly slowly,

A cynical way of crying calls for silence.

Tears become unconventional objects

that could be wiped off from my cheeks

and wiped back on clothes,

until the wet leaves no mark of existence.


The pain would go away

and vanish with no trace,

as though it is meant to remain unknown.

By then, all will be well, and the scars shall

thrive in preten...

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Idle Thoughts



Life's great ambition 

Is merely

To survive itself 




I am not 

what I am

So I am

what I'm not


Former land of the free


Every great civilisation 

Consumes itself from the inside out, eventually 

Welcome to the genesis of Gilead!


Time Less


The mind is a time machine 

…Until it's broken

Then memories lay do...

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Just leave me alone and let me find peace
I don't want to hurt
I don't want to weep
Who’s are the voices inside my head?
Why do they hate me? 
What have I said?
Why let them get to me?
What do I say?
Why can’t I make them all just go away?
Why do I feel I have to paint on a smile?
Why can’t I just be ‘me’ for a while?
These are the questions I’m asking each day
The voices, the demons I...

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Is my confusion an illusion
Is my mind just playing games
All the demons and the monsters
Quick enough to lay the blame
Many questions left unanswered
And many answers make no sense
My only coping mechanism
Is self destruction or self defense
On the outside I may look happy
But I’m crumbling inside
All the feelings and emotions
Just so much easier to hide
If the lock could b...

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The Mists of Being

Walking to the station lost in thoughts.

A useless collection of ideas and emotions swirl around me,

and I gradually tune out even those.

Leaving a vague existence between aware and asleep.

Time and life drift by and it’s a comfortable place.




Too Easy.


Arriving at a destination without knowing anything of the time in-between.

That time.  Gone.


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