Monthly Archives: February 2016

Gilded Glass



Blank stares meet at contrast in face
There is only one through the mirror
The gilded glass hangs for fame
Where we can see it but cannot hear


Body escapes the boundaries of life
As thoughts shift freely through flesh
Other minds quietly pass the time
Desiring in want of the significance


Eyes flicker as forehead tilts forward
Finally succumbing to unawareness
Darkness slowly creeps as shapes form
Sight expands outward framing features

I am grateful for my reflections ❤

ILL Will


All of the stupid things I’ve said
To justify the anger
The fire burns through muscle in my chest
I don’t know how to snuff it out
There’s a fine line between carefree and careless:

I tossed the past in the trash where such horrors belong
White plastic bags buried underneath a few unidentified moments
As an ordinary object, it makes my skin crawl
I can hear it breathing, this sentient fiend preparing omens
Of hate, sending shivers down my spine making me weak
Admitting that friends become enemies when their ILL Will feels justified
Thoughts claw into the layers of your mind unconcerned with the casualty
The poison spilling out feelings sending black thoughts to anyone alive

(and to no one else in particular)
As our united soul suffers to wait for the next silent wave of an attack
Both sides lose, as they always do and the truth remains unknowing
Forces against heart demand to blind emotion
Displacing innocent wishes because it’s easier being angry than being wrong
In my mind, no death is worth this destruction
It’s all the same to me, evil is as evil does and you all know who you are

I am grateful for trash day ❤

I wonder



I wonder if we’ve become more concerned with the

Sexiness of beauty instead of the truth of the heart

Where the outline of skin draws more attention by

Mimicking affection and confusing the sanctity of Love

Building crippling relations through the idea of touch and

Aggression as dark as what we’ve assessed to be unthinkable

When the cheap inspection of emotion can only affirm as much

As we claim when forming attachments as nothing more than optional


I am grateful for Tim ❤



Monthly Archives – February 2015


Monthly Archives: February 2015

 Unrecognizable me

Posted on February 26, 2015 by MuseWriter

Breathing in the mental hunger tasted
By ordinary thoughts created

Memories of what we question

Of what is real and what is a reflection

Or the mental mind stamp of time and place

The pictures drawn to dream

Each moment to catch your attention

Bracing for the next life lesson

Simple happiness simply wasted

The imagination is hated

Painting on a believable face

Unrecognizable me


Basement Corridors

Posted on February 18, 2015 by MuseWriter

I descend the staircase
Step after step
Spiraling downward
Inside of a turret of
Stone and mortar

Shadows dance along
Always by my side
Following the way down
As the light slowly dims and
Then it is extinguished

Darkness consumes sight
My friends of confidence
Of light and dark that
Leave me alone in my silence
Without the echoing cadence
Step after step
Inside of the basement corridors
Of my mind


Empty Eyes

Posted on February 15, 2015 by MuseWriter

I woke up from a dream and I lost control
I rubbed the dirt from my eyes
And I see nothing but the night below
And I hear the wind on all sides

I watch the hands on the clock
I slip through the sands of time
Visions blurred, unspoken words
Have I lost my mind?

I find myself so alone
Starring back at everyone
Bodies pass me by
With their empty eyes

I walk with you between these old bones
Among, the crooked rows, of lost and broken stones
Black phantoms marching, their footsteps pass me by
And I hear nothing but the sounds of snow
I watch the spirits rise


Blue chair

Posted on February 12, 2015 by MuseWriter

The floors are white
annoyingly so
Shining the reflection
of light
Into my eyes

The chair is blue
Rusted with age
Probably picked up
on the side of the road
Or given away

Soles of shoe
connect to the
Slippery surface
mirroring the ceiling

Sitting down upon
seat in middle of room
With the glittery floor
and single object of

Blue chair scuffs white
floor and rings out an
Echoing scream of
metal scraping tile until


*insert title* II

Posted on February 2, 2015 by MuseWriter

My back is enveloped within the trenches of my mattress
Body’s tensions easing into this nightly intimacy of comfort and safety
Submerged underneath layers upon layers of dreamt wishes
I sink into the bottom as a sleeping fish on the ocean floor
Wishing everyone above Goodnight

Greatest Masterpiece
There are acceptable phrases to begin particular statements,
The remembered hardships become the sentences that wrench out of gut;
the blood and the intestines pouring out of stomach into a heaping pile of life
Symbolizing the jagged wound opening human flesh to kill all of the hidden spaces of ideas
Metaphorically dying as a sacrifice to the Greatest Masterpiece

Puppet Strings
She glances left with her bright white eyes and painted lips.
Now head turns to accentuate perspective.
Left arm moves up, next the right.
Now eyes face forward.
Mouth chatters as she walks.
Left foot steps, right steps next.
Hands lift and sway.
Now head tilts up, rosy cheeks round.
Her mouth is open wide but no one can hear a sound.
Now head looks down and her eyes are hidden.
Puppet strings can only do so much


There’s never a face…


There’s never a face

Only a blurred mask of features

Cloaked in all black

Probing, seeking, killing

We never learned how to believe

Shoved into this state of certainty

With acceptance in grieving

As if being alone is freeing

I say fuck that

The rooms are familiar

They haunt me in my sleep

Saving the night for disaster

As the psycho beast creeps

This time I’ll be waiting

Not running through the maze

In this life of creation

We own the hours of the day


I am grateful for staying awake ❤

Someone’s Ghost


An old song is playing on the radio

Where there is no time

Forgotten in the journey of the unknown

I don’t want to ask why


It’s easy being the one unnoticed

Let’s forget the past

It’s been said that I lack focus

But no one has ever asked


We can pretend to live forever

For in death do we part

Hopefully then you’ll find it easier

To forget it all from the start


You’ve never been a real person

Just someone’s ghost

As a figment of my imagination

A stranger at most


I am grateful for public radio ❤

Corporate Stagnation


But first a little side note, if anyone could spare a little extra money to help a wonderful kid, it would be greatly appreciated. Below is an excerpt from his mom from their page. It’s not every day that we can actually do** something to make a difference but in this case, every little bit helps. Cancer is a fucking bastard.


“My dear, sweet son Otto has been diagnosed with Stage IV Neuroblastoma. He just turned five last month, and became ill suddenly just a few weeks ago. The last month has been a whirlwind of testing, doctor’s appointments, and specialists. We were admitted to the hospital when his symptoms and his pain became too severe, and finally received our devastating diagnosis after several days.
As his mother, I cannot bear to leave him right now. My only baby is afraid, angry, and in so much pain. I don’t know any mom who would feel differently.
Unfortunately, taking care of my boy means that I can’t work. While FMLA will protect my job so that I can return there when this is all over, I am the breadwinner for our little family. We just bought our first home in October and would despair to lose it and have nowhere to bring Otto home to when the time comes. My paid time off allotment will already run out as of this Friday, barely a week after we brought him in.
We need your help to cover his medical expenses as well as funds to keep us going so that we can continue to support him here in the hospital. We have already received such an outpouring of love and support, but we still have such a very long way to go. I know our goal seems like such a large number, but every small amount will help us.
Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”


Corporate Stagnation

The words disappear beneath the shadow of hands

Ink-stained knuckles curve into fists of anxious frustration

I hide this self only as much as I can pretend

With the challenge of mind led by the weight of suppression


The truth is acknowledged by those in its possession

Absent in substance, despite how it’s being written

We accept in ignorance what we abandon in submission

Perverting blind desolation while claiming “It is I who apprehends!”


Well, who I am to desecrate this movement?

As I sit here losing hope from the promise of creation

Devising rhyming riddles of expectations to offend

Only to deaden the void from the torment of corporate stagnation


The page glares in indignant accusation

With a delighted radiancy desirous to transcend

I always succumb to suffer its carnal predation

As it is, who cares? we all die in the end


I am grateful for friends and family ❤

Monthly Archives: February 2014



Posted on February 28, 2014 by MuseWriter

Eerily quiet

In a way that escapes the modern ear,


A blank canvas filled in with white

A bold emptiness inviting anyone

to create a mark

Or to fill a hole

Whether the colors resemble anything

remotely perceptible

Some, hear the saxophone lulling into the night

With a heavy heart of understanding

outlined in the pinkish hue of love

The echoes vibrating off of the porcelain keys

A duet of hauntingly beautiful music

to complement the mood

Others, afraid of the uncertain

See darkness in nothing at all

No direction nor meaning

No sound, no saturation, no feelings

A mysterious sullen shade of

shadows and silhouettes

Misunderstood, perhaps

Wintertime is merely the feminine

shifting of emotions

Of acknowledging the

empathy for the differences that unify

everyone of us

A season of physical touch and self-awareness;

A memory of warmth and of the

glowing sun.


Closed Eyes

Posted on February 28, 2014 by MuseWriter


The golden webs glow in the darkness

Of shut eyes focusing on seeing

Knuckles grind into skin and the lights get brighter

Breathing steadies

Lines and shapes moving, pulsating

Intertwining into an array of mystery

What is there to see behind closed eyes?


Nooks and Crannies

Posted on February 24, 2014 by MuseWriter

Where are you?
I see the shadows
feel the movements
But only from the corners
of my eyes
As if it’s some kind of joke
to confuse the blind-ed
Where were you?
When the clouds drew near
blocked out the sun
when I forgot to run
Feet locked into the ground
as if they had sprouted roots
all by themselves
Letting the dirt swallow my
body whole
Even the dark
Nooks and Crannies
that I had forgotten about;
How do we begin to
lose ourselves
in the very things that
Once helped


Kept Outside

Posted on February 22, 2014 by MuseWriter

Sucking in breath
Calculating movement of throat
And counting the appropriate
Pauses to create;
To distract attention from face
Highlighting the notice of a distant object or attraction
Offering something, anything
Reasonable as to explain why
Focus must always be shifted
And kept outside
To be comfortable


Posted on February 4, 2014 by MuseWriter

The simple choice to make, think fast it’s easy

Do you go with gut instinct or only question the answer?

To evaluate the lenses available for view

and for purchase

One by one each pair is laid out in a row

Stagnant in waiting for a view left in

wanting; unseen

The different frames decorated for


An attachment of recognition on first


Selecting the best mirrored of self

instead of the glasses with the correct

focus to see

Too much visual screening can leave

one often staring, lonely

Observances jaded by the different

shades and shadows covering face

A mask to wear while

claiming ignorance and


Monthly Archives: February 2013


The Norm

Posted on February 25, 2013 by MuseWriter

I shrugged in sarcastic narcissism,
Of course everyone got the joke.
As a creature molded to analyze
I constantly try to self-replicate myself into the norm;
It’s safe, a nice comforting cocoon, the norm.
An obvious cliche stepford kitchen recipe
But the norm is always actualized from diversity
The new beginnings that created multiple personalities
Stages of metamorphosis to write down in history.
I am a masked face to pretend to relate.


To Be Happy

Posted on February 24, 2013 by MuseWriter

It’s hard to begin to express the sheer frustration and depression I fall into when you leave. Although your body lingers, your mind has lost it’s way. The pathway to self-destruction on speed. A numbing embrace and a glimpse of a light, so you use. To keep a handy vial on hand, mimics the guidance of friends, pushing you away from everyone. And you do. Your self-confidence issues are portrayed, by the mean words you say, when you’re not you. How important do I weigh in the narcissistic world playing in everyone’s heads? What would you say if you were given the chance to conquer it all or, to be happy?



Posted on February 22, 2013 by MuseWriter

As a cockroach, the ugliest parasite of them all

I am free, but pointless

Black antennas and beady eyes, they consume

The world is on fire but the bug always prevails

A grim reaper of destruction and chaos,

What have I become?

A monster of death?

A watcher, a listener, a schizophrenic creeper?

To be an addict’s last witness and give out his dying wish

We all collectedly suffer;

To always be alone and afraid…


My Miniature Vault

Posted on February 13, 2013 by MuseWriter

My miniature vault, a glass storage jar, sits on the table

In its own little spot, next to the monte carlo cigar box

As an object of character, it represents my freedom, my rebellion, my sweet descent

My little piece of sanity that keeps me contained

A late bloomer to the bud of the most contentious flower

I hear every poet’s favorite color is green

I hope so…

Posted on February 12, 2013 by MuseWriter

The walls are pounding,
Quick, loud beats that mimic my heart.
The room is always illuminated by the tv,
A reality of fiction and demons of temptation.
Where is our salvation?
Where is the harmony of perfection and ecstatic bliss?
They say that everything happens for a reason,
But I won’t stay here pretending that I don’t notice.
Am I a threat, a calculable mission,
A potential cause for confusion of emotion?
Oh God, I hope so.


Posted on February 11, 2013 by MuseWriter

I looked down, red caught in my peripheral vision

A few seconds passed of shocked contemplation

Mixed within the natural expression, was blood


A Dreamer (part 2)

Posted on February 9, 2013 by MuseWriter

A dreamer is

the medium to life that puzzles together

the miracles of the Universe.

He isn’t godly or holy;

He isn’t a wizarding character of fantasy.

A dreamer is a creator of hope;

and with hope,

life begins…


February 9, 2013

Posted on February 9, 2013 by MuseWriter

Softly, somewhere, a piano sings

A whispering tune that I have never heard

It’s my hope, the sound of the keys is encouraging

My own fairy tale, just without the violation of words

And I find myself remembering, or at least believing, that

I could remember the place of collective self and happiness

It’s without Greed, the killer, the monster that will devour the world;

A plague that ravages you from the inside.

Legs shaking under the steering wheel, I hide it

Blue lights flashing in the rear-view mirror, an intrusion of the night, they hurt my eyes

A confusing warning, a paranoia sponging up the awkwardness

In that moment, I flash-forwarded to a million scenarios of what was in my pocket

The system is corrupt and weak

But we still believe it

We are abstract clouds that wander through the fields, their sheep

Somehow lost in this crossfire of a country’s desire to everything


Hoarder of Memories

Posted on February 7, 2013 by MuseWriter

There once lived a man who claimed he could fly.
He said he was a true pilot of practiced skill,
Also known as the difficult type, but he was loved by us all;
and their colorful words and phrases depicted him well.
This man loved, as so many romantic men do,
Like his whole body was roasting on fire.
The acrid smoke clouding his judgement;
The heavy heat making living unbearable.
A gift was offered, it was long ago;
A gift that everyone has forgotten,
But the man who flies can see the world,
He’s become a hoarder of memories that don’t belong to him.
He suffers now, afraid of what he might remember;
Because she doesn’t.
How many lives are allowed in one sense of time?
If there is a favorable notion why you hold them so close,
Then, it’s okay to divulge the available details.



Posted on February 4, 2013 by MuseWriter

Butterflies, how do they fly?

Little velvet wings that shine like stained glass in the sun.

Such a delicate life;

An explorer of illusion made for beauty and wonder.


The Monarch of the tree paints it a fiery orange;

Orange has always been my favorite color.

The battle for the tree is illuminating;

It’s so remarkable, this insignificant magnificence of a whisper