The Curse of Hope

Hope is insidious in its waning, lingering sweet like a sin, an unspoken prayer that betrays reason in defiance of looming inevitability while offering nothing more than a lengthening of the hours of a lonely vigil.

On Muses

"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over." - Hunter S. Thompson A chill washed over him, like icy fingers dancing their way up and down his spine, followed by a sudden emptiness. It was like...

scars

7/7/15

...and in the end, there were only echoes of words said and unsaid, things done and undone, and hope left to die all alone; reaching out to a heaven that didn't want me I found a hell that I created and the passing of my soul...

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This place I never meant to find, this time I never meant to be in, holds me against my will and I linger longer than a moment in years gone past and lost; it's all I can do to not reach out, to stretch out from the lonely dark with fingers broken and bruised from...

Musings From The Porch: The Storm & The Vigil

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!” - Hunter S. Thompson A year ago I wrote...

how the heart dies

You offered it, the hope I held on to, this sense of security and meaning, without my asking, without my wanting-- I reached for it, for what it meant, because you offered, because it mattered; but what I grasped was emptiness, lonely and cold-- abandoned after so many promises, so many offers; silence and waiting...

For That Second

For that second you loved me, that second of hope, for that moment of light when I was not alone, for that touch of forever washed away by this pain, for that second you loved me... ...I'd do anything. Inspired tonight by a piece of music that made me reminisce.... 'For That Second' by Rob...

shadows

Shadows haunt me, ghosts of a past I cannot escape-- and you, always there, the shadows are your shape.

Heartless

He pulled skin and muscle aside, his fingers finding the bone beneath as they tore their way through flesh. Working his fingers between the tight spaces, tendons and cartilage popped and snapped as it released from the ribs, which in turn creaked and groaned before finally breaking. He could feel the bone bend and fracture,...