The day has arrived, the time has finally come

Time to don our guises and have a little fun

Be something that we’re not

For many this may be the only thing they want

Not candy, but carelessness of youth

Detached from the maddening what, when, why and who

Truth can be restrictive

To hide behind a mask can truly feel like living


New Look

Today I’m doing a rough draft of the new logo for thInkStains. It’s been a long time since I updated the look of any of my sites, so it’s about time. Unfortunately, branding is a part of almost everything these days. Catch you later, internet. Happy Almostween.

Breaking Through

Something has to give

I can’t always be this broke

My confidence is spent

How did I fall this low?

Knowing how it happened might not change a thing

At least then I would know where to aim this rage

Pages filled with lost aggression

Screaming at the wall and never learning any lessons

Except one simple truth

Smashing my hands on that wall isn’t any use

I lose sight in this sad state

To take the long way ’round has never been my way

I just want to break through

Give a sense of purpose to the fruitless things I do

The Passing Psychic

I’m dying to find love, but there’s so few places left

A psychic in the street said “Right before your death.”

Then, I shall find love

Something in the way she spoke said more than enough

She shrugged and told me what she saw

Didn’t ask for a cent or demand pay at all

Told me it was “sad”

The way the lines of my hands spoke to her of death


Illusive Life

I must admit, I have no plans

For today, nor for life

I wander through consciousness, hoping for a light

Some illuminated path

I can’t remain this aimless

Twenty four long years have passed

I’m still grasping at the straws

Caring not whether I grab the shortest one or not

Taught to see the world in terms of opportunity

Have I just gone blind, or have they all eluded me?

Time is Money

Up into the small hours

Time flies and I chase it

Collapsing around dawn

Another new day wasted

I wake around noon

Something tells me that I’ll repeat that mistake quite soon

Used, but seldom wisely

Time is something that I spend in excess

Taken lightly

Tight fisted, I am not

I spend time and money like it doesn’t matter much


One brief pause and then I’m back

Attention sometimes seems to lack

Attacked by small distractions

All the mundane things that pass hold some strange attraction

Detracting from my thoughts

A train that derails often isn’t worth as much

Just clutter on the tracks

Moving on in fits

Always seemingly held back

I’ve taken too much freight

There’s no way I can manage focus and this weight

Lifeless Boughs

The sky above is alive with flying clouds of color

Some might say I’m biased, but Autumn bests the Summer

Nothing holds a greater beauty

The poetry and despair of slumber’s colors blooming

Soon will come the cold

For now I’m basking in the warmth of orange, red, yellow bold

Truth told, we’re much like kin

Standing out the most before the fall takes us again

We then must start anew

Budding even after spending most the year subdued

Muted grays and tired browns

Waiting for the warmth to come and bring life to the boughs


Letters pour onto the page

Sometimes complex, simple, lame

Genuine none the less

I was never trained

My structure is a mess

I’m relentless

That’s what sees me through

My lines are like a tempest

The endless, howling doom

It leaves my surface bare

Nothing remains hidden once the wind has said its share

I’m careless in the face of open judgement

If you can’t stand this misery, go find what you call “substance”


Nothing seems to come on slow

Suddenly, most things go

Coming out of shadows

How can so much surprise lay in waters shallow?

Callow in the ways

I drift through murky waters I can’t navigate

I never stray to shore

Land doesn’t carry

The current moves me forward

Sure, there’s less control

Life on this dark river takes the burden off your soul