Ink Weary

Did I lose you along the way?

Off to play at better pastimes?

Did I cross the line?

One too many run on rhymes?

Did I strike a nerve?

Ask too many questions?

Make you feel alike?

Akin to my perception?


Cutting to the chase

Did I lose you, or have I been outpaced?


Am I out of touch?

Out of step?

Out of depth?

How many fathoms down am I in this abyssal trench?

Questions met with silence

Too few swim the waters that I myself reside in

Shying from light, shying from eyes

Hiding on the ocean floor

Pass over me on route to unknown, distant shores

I’m a primordial echo

Trapped in a place where the past comes to settle


Is anyone else unable to check their notifications here on WordPress? I just get an infinite loading wheel when I expand the GUI. It hardly matters, as I only have a handful each time I look, but it’s nice to know who’s reading without having to go to the actual post. Funny that there should be issues the day after I considered upgrading my account. Being here about a decade, I was starting to think this a reliable host.

The Endless Headache; Verbal Destreza

As someone who uses the internet on a regular basis (more specifically social media), I tend to get into a lot of arguments. Sometimes I’m just another voice, trying to hammer reason into some MAGA man. Sometimes I’m the magnet, drawing too much attention. Each and every additional person that joins the “conversation” wants to start from the beginning, forcing me to either point out the day old discussion that answers all their stupid questions, or begin another grueling “battle of wits”. That frustrates me beyond compare, as I take the time to look into things before challenging them. I only expect that simple courtesy from my would be opponents. I’m not trying to master some verbal Destreza and defeat a seemingly endless stream of contenders. I feel like I was going somewhere with all of this, but I think it can stand on its’ own. No need for a summation of one drawn out thought.

Caring for Old Words

What am I, just piles of letters?

Useless, though they keep forever

Collecting mold and dust

Foxing on the corners

Old ink will even rust

Trust in the passage of time

It cannot be broken as can your word

As can mine

I try to bind myself

Every promise made was in belief I could fulfill

Ill falls without discretion

Bonds will end up broken if I don’t fight to protect them

Solid Ground

Sometimes my lack of will betrays what I have done

Is my strength so spent that I struggle to move on?

Long battles leave me feeling tired

In this weathered state, I feel so trapped

I feel so mired

I try hard to take a step

I continue to sink deeper

It feels tight up to my chest

Each breath becomes a strain

I want to know the freedom of solid ground again

Relentless Waves, Static Shores

I can’t get past the stress

All the questions in my life

I lay in heavy silence

I find no peace at night

Just the weight of all the choices

Each one set in stone, stark and grey

Ever joyless

I throw myself against them

Breaking like a wave

They wont budge, but I’m relentless

When my will is all but spent

I piece myself together and start it all again

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?