A Refraction Of Ghosts

The sun’s light
From the ocean floor
Refracted as the inverse shadows of ghosts
Became a steady stream of white noise
Disguised as the backward mask
Of a liar silently turned inward
Thrashing against a wall of self
Fear-stained and feeding
Smashing against the ebb and flow of the tide
Crashing against wave after wave of silence
Secrecy blossoming like a cancer
A pale shade of earthly green
Misled and mis-bled
Sacrificing to an unattainable godhood
An Antikythera mechanism forgotten
Fragility as an antidote to the harshness

Unmerciful Merge

Dulled and regretting ever having come to.
The ghost of almost-present
Dwindling in the almost-surreal.
A commission of lost prophecies
Birthed into afterglow;
Killed in the circular invisible –
Indivisible yet forgotten.
Do your daydreams serve as hopeful reminders
Or scarecrows with bloodshot eyes?
A tension between the tempered steel
Stolen from underwater fears…


A constellation of dead stars.

You close your eyes in one more admirable attempt
To go back.

To stay.


As vines we overcame.
Entangled and enraptured.
Eyes alike but
Aglow with reflections
Of foreign landscapes.
We bought into a sky divine
And hid our yearnings from ourselves
In the shadows
To pass.
Escaping spoils untainted by a silence
We still chose to believe in
Yet deny.

This is not home,
But a temporary corruption.
A fate denied repetitively;
A silent violence;

The noise reduction
We thought was sustenance
Erased the whispers
We so desperately needed to hear;
And turned them into muted screams.
It’s oddly symmetrical
The way we lie to our inner voices.
The way we dishonor ourselves so easily
In order to avoid that which makes sense.

Slowly we ease comfortably
Back into unease.

The death scene daydream.

The clouds rolling;

The immolation of dreams
Turned to ashes and dust.
Scattered as memories
Into the infinite.


In a haunted attic
Softened against ash covered walls;
Self-portraits of the shadows of ghosts.
Sundown on uptown.
The tongue begun.
Irreverence in the form of tear stained screams.
We rise with swollen glands
And crooked teeth.
Angels with missing eyes.
Automatons in single file lines.
The escape from today.
The scars afire
Immersed in the dark depth of pain.
Chaotic and frozen over.
A riot in slow motion ether.
Everlasting and transgenic.
The scarecrows and I.


Ends of rope
Tied effortlessly to goals
That tighten hands around scars on throats.

Arrays of murderous light.
An empty promise made
Through the haze of an addiction to destruction.
Always an excuse to remain,
Never a reason to have a spine.
Your core became a shooting gallery
For the lies you can’t give up.
Your friends…
Only examples of future ghosts.
What is it you think you’re being true to
When everything you are
Hinges on the approval of a world you despise,
Yet admire?

The ‘love’ that blossoms like cancer.


The jagged tree branches
Of broken promises;
Everything you once were to me.
An expansive silence;
An endless text of black infinity.
You charmed me with fear,
Scared me with connection
And became the Dead Sea…
Weighted and shamed;
Mirrored and blind.
The scrawled words left on crumbling walls.
A child’s drawings of a happy family,
Torn into an endless trail of
Shredded envelopes hand-delivered to a dead letter office.
Scream into your clenched fists
And wish for warmth and the violation of everything comfortable.
That nagging thought eating away at your ability to let go.
You know tomorrow this is all going to hurt so bad.
You know.

The Angel / Crow / Emergence

It’s not that I expected more
Than what I could give in return.

It’s not that the gravitational pull of the moon
refuses him any less than I can maneuver.

It’s that I mapped out my own pain
As a way to prepare myself for the fall.

It was the appearance of a bittersweet laugh;
A false smile that I adopted
Then desperately attempted to escape;
An intellectual manslaughter;
The fear of God hidden politely in a diseased embrace;

You do this

Fool’s gold and denial notices;
Shelter in place of home;
Crawl space;
Absence of light;
Avoidance of opportunity.

He takes a photograph
In the fog of a morning sunrise
And tries to imagine a parallel universe
where this dark boy
didn’t only exist within strings of binary.

Find me.

Rest and Reset

It’s a soft drug;
A subtle vibrato;
A steady hum
Beneath the surface of the skin.
It sooths
As skin begins to give way to pressure
That builds
From grains of salt
To vast caverns of hateful noise;
Constantly evolving waves of sound;
Bloodied screams from the tops of trees.

He reaches up;
He pulls himself from undercurrents to ozone;
Tears at the layers of soot his dried skin has become;
Flees the police;
Trespasses where forgiveness is nothing but a long forgotten memory;
Pulls at strings of hair as if cobwebs;
Drags a smile across his face
And tells himself
“I’m OK.”

I’m OK.
I’m OK.
I’m OK.

A Rebirth Of What Never Was

When there is nothing left of you
But a haunted shadow made of an absence of light;
When the stardust is nothing but ashes and dust;
When pain and heartache are the only things remaining;
When you’re sure you’ve been destroyed;
Left behind;

You have nothing left to lose.
You have no reason to remain what you are;
And no reason not to become

Something new.

Track Eleven

You are so secret
In your disease.
A mime trapped
In an invisible box.
I’d break you out
If I could.
(But I’ve got to leave it up to you.)
The nerve center
Of my emotional core
Keeps growing
And pulsing;
With nowhere to go.
So I’m slowly filling notebooks
With your name only.
It’s enough to break you down.
One day I might be brave enough
to show you.