I Am Not Here

People surround me

Laughter, conversation echoing.

I am here,

But I am not here.


My feet walk me to the table,

My empty shell sits down.

Words flow around me,

Like driftwood I wash away on waves.


I hear voices,

I try and ground myself

But I am pulled away.


My mind has left now,

Far away my name being called.

I am somewhere else.


In another world,

In another time

I exist as something else.


The present cannot keep me

My body goes through the motions

My grasp on reality fragile as ice.


People float like ghosts around me,

Behind veils, I hear their whispers

But they cannot hear me speak.


Who is the lucid dreamer?

Like smoke it all melts to nothing.

I am here,

But I am not here.




I call out your name in the darkness,
Waiting, hoping,
Instead it echoes in the emptiness
Haunting me in the night.

Broken, wasted,
Blood dripping from my veins
I walk this lonely road.

Onwards it stretches
Through the shadows neverending.
Even the stars are lonely here,
Casting their eerie light
On this godforsaken path.

Trudging mindlessly,
My footsteps stain the earth.
I’ve searched this life for you
But still I walk alone.

March Of Death

The ticking of seconds,
A reminder
Of the never ending march.
Forward in the darkness
We forge our paths.

Fragile, our grasp on the now,
The moment slipping through fingers
Passing like fleeting shadows.
Time, the beat we must all follow
Left, right, left, right.

We march to our deaths
Going through the motions.
Silent are our cries
Despair pushed aside,
This current carries us on
Drowning us as we step off the edge
Sweeping us away.

Tears never shed
Pain never felt
Lost we remain.

The clock ticks faster
Pushing us on,
Leaving the past behind.
The tide heads out
Stranding hopeless memories,
Abandoned, these empty husks.

We move on
This march to our death
Until the last breath.


So the last week has seen me have a mental blowout from all the little things that add up. Namely being overrun at work and everyone else wanting a piece of me. Sometime I wish I could hideout on a island. Sadly, I’m not rich. And no matter how many times I wrack my brain over it, short of winning lotto I don’t see it happening in this lifetime. So we all just have to deal with our own little problems.

I’ve managed to score some breathing space these next few days. But DIY has gone on the back burner. While I stare at the paltry 1000 words I have for Nanowrimo. It probably isn’t going to happen this year with my late start and all. I just can’t quite get into the headspace I need. Usually it doesn’t take a great deal of effort slipping inside a character’s mind and playing out the bitter and twisted angst I have planned for them. There’s a hurdle now, like I just can’t quite commit, and then my attention just wanders. Well, I think if I manage to get halfway there at 25k words I’ll be happy. Now to get writing…

Endless Thoughts

These thoughts, a maelstrom
Trying to pluck words from it,
One by one,
Like wings off a dragonfly,
The twitching body
And the silent screams
Crying for the peace,
That will never be.

The throbbing garish shadows
Of a world too bright,
In the darkness,
The neverending storm
Whipping streaks of blood
Across my back like lightning.

Trickling, pouring, gushing,
Eyes turning as red as death itself.
The pinpoint of pain
Ever hidden in these anonymous clouds,
Never telling these secrets they hide.

Concealing the chasm,
That rips holes in my chest
Falling, always falling
Out of control, out of mind
These endless thoughts in a maelstrom.

Ode to Winter

The bitter emptiness echoes
Like a dream that once was.
The smell of spring, a faint memory,
Fragmented thoughts
Like petals on a breeze
Floating, lingering, existing.

The darkness holds no shadows.
The void, a black hole, unforgiving,
How can this faith uphold?
Hope, a prayer on wings
Takes flight through the night sky.

The pale moon watches silently,
Its weakened light
Shrouded in mist and ice.
The world below
Dying, suffocating
In its own smothering grasp.

Can one’s own heart be blamed
For the darkness that consumes it?
From within…
The steady beating slows,
Turned to stone in a frozen cage.
The black winter carries on.