From the Howitzer to the warm embrace. Who can give me solace in this terrible gas-storm of ruin? Articulated mechanisms of the field battery. Articulated mechanisms of the muse. There’s always one in the chamber. There’s always the danger of a stray. A looming threat exploding overhead. Finally final when the body is dead. It’s easier to forget that in spite of this, I’m still here… Neverdead. I am thy ruin. Emaciated fear slips on down. The black curtain unveils the cold, white body. Glowing… glowing. Pathways of pain leather the slippery soul. This is where I bury the blade. Blunt, under weight, split hard the drape. I tail the stage. Grunting like a whoring drunk. A spidery net cleansing the street. Glistening… sticking to your feet. You’re staying here. You’re just beautiful, dead meat.

For a day-job I work in film set fabrication, but that's not nearly close to the feeling I get when I'm writing or creating music. I'm currently working on several screenplays, but this site is where I come to dump my quick-fire ramblings and expunge difficult emotions or experiences. I hope you take something from these writings. Each and every one of them comes from the heart.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: