Tags » Inward

Stuck In a Cycle (a poem)

Isn’t it mad how one can live in a haze?
Drifting through days upon days upon weeks
Without any real significance or depth of meaning… 243 more words

If not for these...

Canto yokai rustle, unseen, in tall brush and forests. They exude illusions like twisted antlers or cut-off heads from trunks of bodies. Their eyes peer through full moons and satellites as they catch light, flare, and disappear against the black sky. 226 more words


Feathers for death

Waiting for a break-through to pierce through the dark hanging grey.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Waiting for everything to bleed out. To be so empty that there’s only two choices: get up or die. 451 more words



Prescience, sensed, something seems

Held out of reach, patiently

Softest mist on the fringe of dreams

Whisper softly, again I may know

Days long gone, in silent groves… 32 more words


Satellites drifting overhead. Pieces of things falling and burning in the atmosphere. I see it bright blue, impossible to avoid.

Signs of the fall coming? 284 more words



Words like ash and smoke rise from candles lighting a dark room. The room: my mind — the candle light: these (ephemeral) thoughts I cannot avoid. 409 more words


July 18, 2014


(Number 565)

To grow up, you must grow out. Otherwise, you grow in, which makes you grow afraid.


The American Mindset