Poems

Violent Tendencies and Gentle Breeze Whispers of rage, they coil and they seethe,wrapped in the silence of a steel sheath.In my veins, the storm, it brews so fierce,clashing with the calm, my soul it pierces. Violent tendencies, a tempest’s roar,crashing against the gentle breeze at my core.A duel of spirits, a war unleashed,where whispers of […]

Vanishing Point (3) Eyes wide in the dimming light,fading visions, losing sight.The world a blur, where nothing’s right,at the vanishing point, out of the fight. Voices drown in the growing din,can’t tell where you end and I begin.A losing battle I’ll never win,at the vanishing point, where fears spin. Hold me back from the edge,

Vanishing Point Eyes wide in the dimming light,fading visions, losing sight.The world a blur, where nothing’s right,at the vanishing point, out of the fight. Voices drown in the growing din,can’t tell where you end and I begin.A losing battle I’ll never win,at the vanishing point, where fears spin. Hold me back from the edge, so

Velcro Jesus and the Bedframe Choir They crucified him on a hospital wall,with Velcro straps and a bathroom stall.A rosary made of rubber gloves,and a choir of screams from the ceiling above. He preaches truth from a tilted bed,where angels piss and prophets bled.The ward bows low when he speaks in rhymes,and the IVs drip

Under Your Sky In the shadow of titans, where I find my thrill,dreams of giants that can bend me to their will.Crushed beneath the weight of an immense caress,in their mighty grip, I find my true regress.Towering figures in the landscape of my mind,a fantasy of scale, impossible to find.Under colossal heels, a fragile, fleeting

Vanishing Point (2) In the silence of my own skin, I conjure a retreat,where my body folds, a quiet so complete.A surreal feast, where flesh consumes itself,lips upon lips, like books pulled from the shelf.This self-devouring vision, grotesquely serene,in the swallowing, I find a space so clean. No horror here, in the closure of form,only

Two A.M. RefrigeratorThe house goes dark, the family’s asleep,I’m standing in the kitchen at two,the refrigerator hums its old familiar nothing,every instinct says this is wrong,but the light comes on and the cold air hits my face,and suddenly this kitchen feels like something holy—leftover ribs from the cookout yesterday,the mac and cheese my wife said

(Genre Pop-country)Two Left Feet The honky-tonk band cranked its twang, rhythm pounding through the planks,and I stood frozen there, terrified to move,my boots rooted like I’d grown roots,everyone else spinning past in some effortless country blurwhile I remained a statue carved from pure panic. He crossed the floor before I could bolt,his smile cracking the

Truth in the Shadows I’ve walked through shadows where others fear to tread,a heart so cold, eyes vacant, empathy dead.I’ve taken what I’ve wanted, never a second guess,witnessed their suffering, felt nothing inside this chest. They scream, they plead, their pain a silent song to me,I’m detached, a spectator to their agony.No tremble in my

Tunnels of Panic It builds like pressure, deep within the cage of my chest,a balloon swelling wild, leaving no room to rest.My fingertips tingle, a cold creeping dread,as the world starts to blur, thorns bloom in my head. My scalp’s electric, buzzes sharp and deep,while I tear at my skin, desperate to unbind.The walls start