Au revoir, à mon coeur et à mon âme

Walking pathways of death as respectful as one is able,

You find an occasional numb in the midst of being overwhelmed or unknowing of what to do and how to feel.

Faces of those who might know the area as home are illumined and regarded,

Faces of those visiting are studied as well out of curiosity,

And then those who are seeking a new home in this unfamiliar land;

They are the ones who you do your best to assure they have been seen,

While the world may seemingly pass them by.

In a world on edge,

Below ground can be a place to find peace.

When walking caverns that have become hallowed halls of history,

A certain stillness is found even when actively observing your surroundings;

knowing you’ve temporarily escaped the chaos and noise of society above.

In refining one’s self, you find that you also lose pieces of your “self”;

It makes you wonder if it’ll all be worthwhile,

or if it will be just another phase or season.

Something meant for a scrapbook rather than a defining step forward as a human,

Compulsion rather than immersion.

My critical eyes have been poked many times over,

But I believe the time has come to gouge them out.

For I’d rather gain knowledge blindly and objectively,

then have the privilege of sight but also the handicap of unneeded critique.

With bones dislocated, emotions suppressed or dead, and a mind rather empty;

What good would I pose as just another spoon fed oaf?

As I prepare to leave,

I don’t have a final destination.

As the mirror reflects a face that is familiar,

I don’t immediately acknowledge it as my own.

Maybe a shadow of someone I knew,

Or someone I’d rather forget I met.

Just a sketch of someone or something,

From a place no longer existent.


Retiring from Performance

I had a most empowering moment of powerlessness today,

As I sat hoping to find calm in a cold Autumn breeze.

For as long as I can remember,

I’ve felt like someone or something “other” than most anyone you could meet,

As if I was some sort of twisted concoction that ended up becoming human.

My otherness hasn’t faded away,

but I don’t see it as anything of significance.

No longer is it a burden nor is it something to be proud of,

It is just part of my existence.

With this, I’ve also found that all wonderment of why I may not be able to connect with people has been spent.

I’m not saying there isn’t a single person I connect with,

And this isn’t a melodramatic cry of woe is me.

But I continue to show kindness to people that I all too often look at in the midst of maybe our fourth or fifth conversation,

And I can see clearly that they’re ready to exit as long as they can do it “politely”.

If they want to be polite,

Don’t waste my damn time.

If I’m just not your “type”,

Please just say from the beginning,

I don’t even care if it’s a pre-judgment that ends up being your tool to judge me;

The quicker you decide there is no need to know my name,

The longer I have of my day to use in a more practical way as opposed to feeding your ego.

It may be called a “first impression” but if you’re waiting for me to impress you,

You might want to sit down and get comfortable.

It’s not that I’m boring,

But I’m sure as hell not a circus monkey.

I’m better at saying goodbye than I am at saying hello,

I’m not withdrawing or refusing to try;

I’ve just never had time to waste and I have places to go.

Off beat, right on Time

It’s darkly humorous that I play drums,

And yet a rhythm of life seems near impossible for me to grasp.

I can grasp the rhythm within in a piece of music just by listening,

But I can spend years around a person and still find a way feel as though I just met them.

It seems to be affected by many things,

But I notice it most

when I can’t even recognize myself.

I used to be surprised when I made mistakes,

Now I’m surprised if everything goes right.

But I guess that isn’t the worst mindset,


Better to be surprised that there is a limited amount of flaws found,

Whether pertaining to a situation or task,

In the flawed & fallen world we live in.

Into a flawed existence,

We are born;

And often our mortality is ended by familial flaws,

That have killed generations before us.

Flaws are not what we’re to run away from,

But the fanatical obsession with perfection.



Status Update

The key to all information,

or at least presumed,

Can be found at the click of a button.

But, is it ALL information

or is it only the information that people desire others to know?


Politeness or being correct has become a matter of majority rule,

or at least a matter of a loud voice.

Of course if any authority is shown,

Be ready for an argument.

In a time of history where noise can end up being more important than reason,

and repost’s or “retweets” are what qualify something as significant,

Authority and credibility doesn’t hold the weight it once did.


I’m no better by writing this,

But I don’t know how to react anymore.

The rather constant confusion in the world around me,

Has led to my inner self gripping to any shred of sense and reason it can with white knuckles.


The paralysis felt upon realizing that freedom can be given away in a matter of seconds,

Is oddly empowering in the way that it tries to crush you.

But if you receive this realization as reason to think rather than surrender;

You will find light grows exponentially in the midst of darkness, akin to the one being documented at this very moment.

This light though,

will only be found,

If you actively seek it.


“Couldn’t Buy Love if I wanted to”

Suffering is a friend,

Known only to the lonely.

But why is it that when the lonely want to change,

The suggested ways to go about it are only artificial?

Go out more, make new “friends”, try being more “social”.

Does being social really make someone any less lonely?

Maybe you know how to “work” a room,

It’s even possible that your charm brings anyone that crosses its path doom;

But when you lay awake in your filled yet empty bed,

Does the depth of loneliness felt both within & beyond yourself feel any less real?


As if escaping into some parallel existence,

Into a new storyline or a life of someone else would change things.

You tell yourself,

I’m just going to disappear.

Why worry about the consequences?

You already live the life of a prisoner,

Bound in your self-hatred & fear.

Preaching freedom from your pulpit built upon hate,

Falling in the quicksand you love to throw yourself into.

“Woe is me”, your favorite requiem-like plea.

As if dying is the only way you can be alive.


If you want to just to give up,


But, if you truly want change;

Wake up from your self-induced coma,

Open your eyes.


Self-hatred, among other mental tortures of one self, is an ugly mask that fits too easily onto a person. I continue to realize the depths I traveled to with this during my teen years. Every now and again, it tries to snatch me back into the sharp nailed clutches of its dirty hands; stringing me up like a one character puppet show. Makes for good writing material, but it’s no life worth living. The loose quote this piece is titled after is from a line in the movie, Sin City, by the character Marv when talking about himself in relation to women. As a sort of anti-hero, I see aspects of myself within this fictional character. A scarred, but good hearted fighter trying to grasp for light when he’s more accustomed to being in the dark. Maybe that’s only my perspective.