Want

I want.
An empty, hollow with no ties to reality
setting its claws in me
want

It disguises as need

it knows when that has failed

it wants

the echo not decaying
just reverberating
I want
becoming obsession

lying to me that I need

I want

It

the hollow one needing me to consume in it’s name

forever empty
forever in me
it feeds on misery

If there is happiness it is not
if there is growth it is rot
it triggers on the absence of it

it needs it
it is the ever present drive
of want

it gets in your head
it drives false need
it leaves you hungry
when it makes you feed

consume for want

It wants to be bigger
It wants to be small
It wants the shiny things
It wants it all

it wants nothing
so it can be filled again
it is empty
so the want can begin

I want

It

to

be

silent

Junk Drawer

Junk Drawer

Digging through the junk drawer

finding shit I knew was lost

A bic lighter

random keys

to locks that have lost their relevance.

The noise on the peripheral persists

so I dig through another container

a t-shirt I do not recall

a sock with a skull

a 3D printed polygonal cat

But there are no spoons

Each container full but empty

and the clatter at the periphery persists

a dull roar from outside

reminding me that reality still exists

Earplug container, only one side

mints of a dubious flavor

keep digging

the hell of it all is I need to go out there

Where are the fucking spoons?

I find sufficient noise in the rectangle

no wires, just cacophony

the silverware will have to wait for later

reality awaits

two shoes

two socks

underwear and pants

torso covered by something hanging

at least I have a knife.

slip on the shades.

Looking Back Blind

Nostalgia is a prison
built from the stones that anchor
the trenches dug as the row gets plowed
by the dragging across the ages and miles

Memory is not a shelter
it is a trap for the unprepared
a hole in the row, as cavities grow
and the rictus is mistaken for smiles

a shell of a comfortable mirror
pointed back but not pointed to self
never looking ahead to the alternate paths
just falling into the concentric patterns of death

Shatter the walls of reverie
tradition and how the things were
a trap set by the lazy unconscious
and the death rattle of growing’s last breath

Memory is for reference
Now is for life
the future is chaos blooming
Stop digging and start nurturing existence

Lose the anchors
lower the stones
breath and walk free into now
create today without false resistance

Last Payment

Nobody knows what this will cost me
Honesty’s too real
The baring of the layers of
Callous armor peels

Away from the scarred and broken
mending lines and pain
A confession long unspoken
of plans too long refrained

To tell the truth to myself
would shatter me away
when I look at what is left inside
there’s nothing left to say

Hatred left a wasteland
rage a scorched path
violence was the answer
but the question’s never asked

born into all the world could teach
before the mind could grow
who is it now, what can become
something I can never know

So I pay myself a visit
Across the ashes and the flame
should I peel away another scar
I’ll never be the same

Updating

Adding links to friends, bands, resources, and shit I like over in the LINKS! page. (See the main menu, not gonna double link…)

Kinda going old school and slowly removing all but the minimum from most social media. Twitch and Youtube are gonna get most of my traffic until I can get a streaming resource on this page that works reliably.

Keep an eye open