Poetry · Writing

demon killers

if i sold everything i have

i still wouldn’t deserve you-

it may not be true

but it is true to me

and i don’t deserve you-

but i’ll prove it;

the late nights let the past creep in

when the doors are locked and bolted shut

trespassing over my private property

and it’ll run a muck, yet,

everyday putting i will put in the work

from nine to five staying late working overtime

to prove that these demons don’t define me

and i will wonder:

i have brought myself from the darkest corner of hell,

i should have stayed and held that rope tighter

but i am here, fighting, so

does she deserve me-

and i see her working just as hard;

stomping her own demons

and i know we can survive anything

Poetry · Writing

do not enter – double a batteries

i know i have been in your thoughts

i woke up and my legs were shaking

roaming corridors i once lived finding myself a tourist

a map with rooms crossed out and a new name written

on brown tape-

renting or buying

a night affair or a lifetime package

why was i brought to witness;

a chance to outbid

or walk down a memory lane with caution tape

boarding off every entrance,

the tape was my doing

but the exhibits were made to last

and i wonder

how many double a batteries

it would take

Poetry · Writing

winter is here.

lost in a graveyard

found six feet under

it was never meant to end this way

or maybe it was

maybe i choose to ignore the signs on the road

the endless yelling of choosing poorly

but right now was meant for the hollow

a cross of a god that was never my god

a cross for the forsaken or the loved

holds the seal tight

i would challenge him but

he is a god so that seems dumb-

against his wishes i will rise;

turn my hands into shovels and rise

the bottom could never hold a spirit like mine

a heart with everything still to give

stories left to be told

work still to be done


the last season of game of thrones

still to be watched

Poetry · Writing

stringless kite

a little lost now

following a kite

map shredded

two nights to get it

and i have never felt, whatever this is-

a chilling call

not a heroes call

an endless brawl through the nights free-for-all

and i have been losing

easier to count the small moments when i felt everything was whole

can do it with one hand

do not see the second being used

yet to push aside this feeling of being used

left beaten and bruised

to lay in the coldest of night

with nothing but a stringless kite

Poetry · Writing

space in the world;

i find comfort in solace

to retreat to my corner write a rhyme

it is an organized crime, murder- right before bedtime


solace is never kept lonely

i carved my space in this world built on fiction

i will not blame anyone for not being real

made it myself love the appeal

check on the time but that is not real

blood on the walls carved from stainless steel-

solace is my emergency contact

it knows i exist

just never picks up


Poetry · Writing

yield sign re(move)d

we are worth more then one chance

i usually deploy a weak baseball rule

three strikes

but weak because i can never call anyone out

even when they deserve it-


bad shit comes in threes(bleed)

should have been a breeze(beast)

fucked around caught your disease(21)


you have been out for years

kept you around against my wishes

missed the days when it was simple

dimples and smiles got you in the door

war followed and never stopped-

Poetry · Writing

honey dip ii

sometimes you just know-

i do not know how to explain it or to express or tell you to guess what it feels like

but i can feel it

in the tips of my fingers

it is you

the late nights the date nights the great fights

i only want that

with you

a show always getting a new season

no reboots maybe a spinoff

little jet on his own;

a show with its ups and downs but we hold strong

a model for those to say i want that

a jim and pam a marshall and lily tv sweethearts;

this script is tender and soft

but with you it is always right

burning in my chest i need you here

a cure but temporary need hourly doses

of your potion and you will always have roses

so you know that you are chosen

a star in the show, a star to me

nobody else fits that role

Poetry · Writing

yesterday’s grave;

it is in our dna

like a skeleton in our closet-

we were made through violence

the quake in my clench fist

was the same in my past life;

it is not what i am here for

to lay down the sword and wield a shield like cap

i will use words to diffuse

this fuse and the only bomb that will drop

are f bombs to clear the fucking rubble

history only outlines today

but will still build an empire

an euphoria haven of shields

cutting fields of old patterns

burying violence in a grave marked yesterday