The Dead South

The stage it smells, tells, hell's bells Miss-spells, knocks me on my knees It didn't hurt, flirt, blood squirt Stuffed shirt, hang me on a tree After I count down, three rounds In hell I'll be in good company -THE DEAD SOUTH  

PTSD -EMS – And Me.

There's a montage of violence I can't silence in my mind. I try to sleep but these scenes repeat and past tenses play like fragmented sentences as I struggle to make sense of it.              

Looking The Other Way

I'm disgusted by your apathy, I'm disgusted you don't care about the things you see. I feel disdain when you you look the other way, Like there won't be pain as long as you don't say.    

Ghost Walking

Ghost Walking She got more beautiful the less she cared. She got calmer with every scare. She stopped wanting after going without
. She stopped looking for doors, there was no way out. She stopped fighting, she was never going to win. She conceded so life could begin. She found peace
 with ambivalence, the world had... Continue Reading →

Sorrow Drowner

2002 I’m a sorrow drowner, A real downer, I was never taught how to feel feel. And I’m at home And I’m alone And I don’t know how else to deal. It's like MY WHOLE LIFE IS A CHASE me running from my disgrace- I'm not even in the place I can LOOK MYSELF IN... Continue Reading →

He Breaks

My Ghost Speaks

He breaks,
he breaks,
he breaks!
There’s only so much a man can take.
So angry his hands shake,
fists clenches.
The ground quakes in the wake of his walk.
Spit flies when he talks.
Tight grip,
his rage has been awakened!
Shirt rips,
no more of him will be taken!
He’s through with it!
Like a caged animal,
being poked and prodded.
What was once down trodden
has now hit his bottom.
He’s lost all control,
no outlet
and nowhere to go.
Just a cog in a wheel,
never taught to feel,
he has a monster inside
and its coming to surface.
He has no place to hide,
he’s struggling for purpose.

myghost speaks 2014

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