I am weary but I do not want the night to end; to slip headlong into that troubled sleep that tortures and haunts with memories I want not to keep is to embrace a tomorrow which I do not want for all the endings it will bring.
Art: Portrait of Picasso
This is a charcoal portrait of Pablo Picasso that I was doing. Technically, it's a work-in-progress, but someone who saw it in this state fell in love with it and ended up buying it as-is. This isn't the full piece; it's actually an 18"x24" piece, with a lot of my grid marks and pencil... Continue Reading →
I have burned these years, set the pages alight, and all that's left are ashes of a love that was never wanted, given back; and pages black where moments once were held scatter to the wind and I wish that the frayed strands of my soul could go with them.
Publishing News: The Book of K
My first novella, 'The Book of K,' is now available in the Amazon Kindle store as well as in print edition, also on Amazon (anyone who purchases a print edition can get the Kindle edition for free). It is a supernatural horror/weird fiction story that will appeal to fans of H.P. Lovecraft, Indiana Jones, gothic... Continue Reading →
These pieces of me, shattered and scattered in time and memory, are nothing more than what remains of who I never was.
It weighs heavy, this being, who I am, but more so who I am not; this burden of life, of living and loving is taking its toll- shoulders sag, the head bows, knees buckle, the back breaks, beneath a world that could so easily forget, but... ...I stand.
It beckons: a moment that's only a breath away, the space between life and death where living really happens; a chance, a risk, a rush, and the hope forgetting what brought me here, the thrill of the storm charging the blood, until the fire burns out and the sweetness of pain replaces the bitterness of... Continue Reading →
Morning is filtered through a lens of blue and grey, the light scattered and broken by a falling sky; and the space between waking and sleep, where dreams linger before they die, envelops me in its embrace, but it is not you-- it is not you.
A sense of the catastrophic, the inward crash imminent-- the ravens have flown and there is now only the calm before the storm, and the deepening shadow of night.
suffocate and embrace the hereafter; release and escape a world without laughter in silence it ends, the world I created, and I have become the thing I have hated and now, only now, is mine for the taking and I'm asking for freedom from a soul that is breaking