Cheap Brandy and Desperation

Cheap Brandy and Desperation Lane,

love doesn't matter in this place.

Only drowning your sorrows in bitter taste.

Were feelings are gone, sex takes its place.

Yearning to feel anything but pain,

longing to know something that is real.

Passing up your inhibitions

And giving in to the feel.

Handcuffs and play things,

more Brandy on the rocks.

Nothing to keep you grounded,

ditch the shoes keep the socks.

You know she doesn't love you,

But you long to be inside her.

Confusing passion for affection

blurring your emotional divider.

She may long to get closer

yet you refuse to let her in.

Only wishing for more ectasy and pain,

let these sick games begin.

Then you feel yourself falling

its as if your losing control,

So you push her away

since she has strayed from your goal.

So you scour the the streets

looking for a girl on emotional vacation.

So you can both hide your depression,

in Cheap Brandy and Desperation

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Bleh... Too many poems focus on a girl's point a view so I did my best to capture that of a male

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Happiness is not given, it is earned with struggle
Patience and power you cannot ask for it
Just another back fire, no rebound will help from anger
Hatred, fury and maybe fear

Kept strong in the soul, thicken the skin
Mind working hard as it can
Fulfillment with happiness, fulfillment with guilt
Depression is a doorway out and hatred suppressed in

Happiness is a gift, given from a lover, enemy or friend
Every wrong will make it right, every right can make it wrong
A section of your heart is healed, the other miserable
A section is pure evil, the other with no bad

Happiness does not exist in a person
In reality, fantasy and dreams
So fulfill yourself, and fight for happiness that exists
It'll only be earned when your ready
To feel happiness again

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The Steps to feeling Happiness. In my Theory.

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A Bullet for a Kiss


A bullet For a Kiss”




Death rides shotgun down this highway of pain and suffering. This cold and hot fever is a punishment that I had brought down on myself. As I can feel the barrel of the gun as it's pressed against my temple. My reaper shouts for me to drive even faster and it is then that I see my wall. The hopeless reminder that we are all simply running in circles.



Ashes in the wind, as there is no control. The ultimate con, the ultimate illusion. There are no laws of physics within the minds of mankind. Driven by instinct, driven by passion we build our egos to mold our personalities. We are the hell beasts that devour the innocence. We are the creatures ruled by our hearts, our emotions. We can be majestic and divine, able to reason and to understand or we can be evil and sadistic, inflicting unspeakable acts of cruelty.



My thoughts have taken me through the ringer. Conflicted within myself which has caused me to relapse once again back into the arms of my sweet addiction. Always follow your heart right? If I had listened to my heart I would have ended up betraying my own personal promises and once again hearing the seductive whispers in my ear calling out my name. I would like nothing more then to close my eyes and fall back into her velvet bliss, the beautiful ecstasy of the mind numbing ignorance. I would sell my soul once again to be caught within that angel's glance. Even for the pain of realizing it could never last. Better to have been forgotten in a world where love fades far too soon. Then to have never been known by another soul.


Going insane with these repeating thoughts; A bullet or a kiss. The grand irony to an already cluster fuck of a life. How much more could I possibly have to endure before I have that breakdown? When all the bullshit just becomes way too much? Feeling like the fool as I still desperately try and cling to the hope that somehow, someway it will all work itself out. That maybe one day there will come a time when I get one issue solved and there would not be five more creeping up like a bad rash.



~ ~ Midnight Addendum ~ ~


If I could claim a true fear, and not just some phobia. The kind of fear that causes your legs to become frozen. Too scared to run they become lead pipes attached to the ground. Too scared to scream, finding your words evaporating as they gurgle from your mouth. The kind of fear that could give an old man a heart attack.


The line has become blurred, obstructed. Blending into a nightmare of hellish gray. A constant struggle to figure out what my moral compass should dictate. So my fear would be the vicious nature and the constant reminder of a bullet rattling around in my brain pan. Irony to be had as I once again declare that I have no death wish, I am not suicidal. That persistent thought however could contradict even your own belief.

I think about death, as much as an addict would about meth.”



Why must I endure this constant torment? Why must my mind take me down this road of insanity? Where my own death takes center stage, among all others in my head even surpassing that of vicodin. Most of all why the martyr syndrome to my own suicide plot when there would be no glory to be had?


As I stand before the mirror I see not my reflection. A stranger in the echo who picks up the revolver placing the cold barrel within my mouth. Solo Russian roulette only all chambers are loaded. I pull the hammer back and the last few thoughts that were to be had will die in my head as a sudden pop would be all that is heard. I see death, in the reflection.

I feel so tired anymore. Rarely finding the passion that is the mystery of life. I have always entertained the thought of just giving up. It's never been about my suicide. An act of a miracle should it ever happen. So why am I constantly plagued by them? Eating a bullet, or eating a pill. A devils true advocate to a man's broken heart.



I am falling apart, coming undone at the seams.

Caged in this lie built on the ashes of your dreams.

Slay the beast, or admit that you are weak.


Watch my decent into darkness.


Face to face with your devils and demons.

Falling from grace into disgrace

as you wage war against your temptations.


It's hard to see the moments

when your humanity shines through.

In that second I can see potential in you

Wolves. Sheep. Puppets on a string

shackled to fear; to the heavens we sing.

Where one positive thought counters a thousand negative ones

Wars resolved by the barrel of a gun

Then wonder why I see a bleak outcome.”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my newest piece from chapter 20 of ThoughtShock, "The Suicide Diaries"

I wont post a whole lot on this I will leave it up to you the readers to take what you will from this piece, I post it with a heavy heart to say the least. Battleing depression while writing this chapter really took its toll on me.

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A Suicide Letter "Revised for ThoughtShock"


A Suicide Letter”

(Poem from Psycho- Confessions Revised)


I try and put myself in that state of mind, as if searching for something I desperately lost and now trying to find. I peek inside the locked tombs I've suppressed back when I thought of suicide and was always depressed. On nights when I was alone, I'd cut while listening to a song on a track that was stuck. Like a broken record, the soundtrack of my life while creating art with this dull knife.


To Bleed. To feel the pain. Then to know you are alive. To vent, a symbol or statement. To question your very soul even the simple thought of control.

I never wanted to hurt anyone, never even wanted to own a gun. There was a chance I would have used it before I would have realized what I had done but I know I could do better so this is my Suicide letter.



"Living in this drug induced coma

swallowing pills, overdosed on somas

chopping lines of Codeine

While thinking of injecting Morphine

Trying to run from the most obscene

Escaping from your thoughts and mind

I am only human, born to sin

I am only mortal, struggling not to give in

Pinned against the wall

I sometimes wonder if I'm destined to fall"

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is actually a small edit to my old poem "A Suicide Letter" which can be found in Volume 2. As I mentioned in my comment on my other revised Poem "The Pain of Suicide" I am adding these to my book ThoughtShock.

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The Pain of Suicide "Revised for ThoughtShock"


"With so much pain and so little gain,

There is too much hate with so little faith"


"Death is the only way out"


The Pain of Suicide”

(Poem from Psycho- Confessions Revised)


Our hearts are turning black and there is no turning back.

Your hands have been stained red from all the blood you shed.

The world is dead and life is but a dream, that cannot seem.

Draw your gun because you are dead, falling out of life,

falling out of peoples memories. Killing yourself for others to see.

We had heard your pain but then forgot you were even sane.


'Kill yourself now, let me show you how.'


Forget about everyone who once cared then remember all those pranks, those stupid dares. Everyone who mocked and stared. Clear your head and pull the trigger now. It really does not matter as you now reflect on your life.

Oh how you wish to have been a someone, yet as you dream life gets that much harder. You see how everyone hates you. So you want nothing more than to make them pay. Oh how much you wish you could say.


"As I hide in the shadows I wait to hear your reason why

or how I wish to fly, to go beyond the bounds of human feelings

But that doesn't matter now, kill yourself, I'll show you how”


Close your eyes, as all those painful memories die. Pull the hammer back and wait for the pain to take as you now begin to shake. Your life is in your hand. It's time for you to take a stand. A single tear rolling down your cheek. Now on your knees, a coward too weak.

Praying for salvation. The gun in front of your view if only the cure you knew. One last look, one last touch, feeling so empty, feeling so alone. All you had is gone, and there is no one home.

Pick up the gun as you press it to your head. Your thoughts racing through your mind. Your life racing against time. Any last words from your mouth to the open air? "Life is never fair."

Pulling the trigger as the sound echoes through the air. Falling towards the ground, now laying without a sound. Closing his eyes, as he turns his head. The deed is done now he's dead.


'Why God Why'

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Some of you will remember my old poem "The Pain of Suicide". It was basicly written under duress. haha

So I revised it for chapter 20 in my book ThoughtShock which has been titled "The suicide diaries". Your thoughts on the new version?

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Just another suicide letter


Just another suicide letter”


I woke today to see the forced smiles on the pale faces of all others,

So many have just gave up, gave in and no longer satisfied by their desires.

Stuck on repeat, stuck on a loop, they are simply following routine

a failure at everything, so they gave up on ever obtaining their dream.


If you happen to read this letter,

know that my life has not gotten any better.

I have danced with and even entertained

those thoughts that would make me seem deranged.

Let this letter be a glimpse into my soul,

part of the puzzle you just might not know.”


Dead babies displayed before the press, the piranhas on the move.

With open assassinations, might as well turn in my resignation for in the end we all lose.

Often I feel as though I should be asleep, this nightmare in its own right.

Somehow took the wrong cocktail. Lost my sight with no reason left to fight.

'Tomorrow will be a new day.” Yes that sounds like something I would say

and while I respect the laws of infinite possibilities, turns out its just another day.

How can I survive in a society more fucked than I?

Your stupidity, and your insanity compels me to want to die.


I have grown lost, now trapped behind this illusion you managed to conjure.

Each step taking me further from the path. Each step you taunt me with a cure.

The answer to a simple question, now foaming at the mouth its become an obsession.

Dancing with death, I can't help but count every single regret.

It all becomes a fading memory that I can now do without, just another dream that died

and before its creation ever transpired another broken promise where I had lied.


For the most part I do not even want this as an answer,

'still searching for what little beauty is to be had in this infectious cancer.'

Little by little, more and more I find myself drifting away.


This is just another suicide letter,

just know my life is not getting any better.

A coward who hides behind a vice.

A coward who is afraid to do what is right.”


The heavens rain down blood, as I ask myself what is it I've done.

What has become of me? Now just a shell of a man, hallow and numb.

What sick freakshow did I spawn from?

Where I find myself dwelling on the act, 'a bullet in the brain'?

Thoughts of suicide, yes they never left.

Asphyxiation by self perversion is it not the same?


Ashes to ashes, as we all find our way back

this twisted fate, strapped to the devil's rack.

You had your chance to turn back.

A door best left closed, it is a deadly trap.”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This would probably be my third "suicide letter" that I have written.

I like to choose these "styles" for their shock value, as well as offering me a way to convay a message in a strong and controversal way. So enjoy!


(Had moved this to its rightful place in the ThoughtShock Folder since its being added to this publication)

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Moment of clarity

Reality pinpricks across the surface;

The dance of the narrow needle.

Everything’s illegal, so we end up selling parts of our own bodies,

We were running free, but somehow got lost in the underground,

So much sympathy for our demons,

Crying gasoline tears in the heat of summer’s tease.


An ocean washes up pebbles and bones,

Victims of discrimination, beaten and stoned.

Preservation burns when trapped in the hold,

In the mind of a stranger, struggling to be free,

Resisting all instinct that is explosive within.

Submitting to the charm and seduction of fate,

Though I’ll never forget who I was,

I’ve collided with the man I want to be.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Everyone thinks they know everything about others from where they stand. I realise now very little look inside themselves with that same deconstructive approach. This does not make me better than the average man; I just believe as a man gets older he should redefine himself and improve upon himself, instead of looking at what he doesn't have or is missing.

Ballad of the Stars (Incomplete)

'Ballad of the Stars'


A Rhapsody composition by; Matthew Wayne



                                                             In the beginning....




Act I “As the Sun sets.”



I have been lost for so many years,

I have shed and bled so many tears.

I am lost deep within this never ending labyrinth

desperately trying to make any sense out of this.

So here I am, with visions in my hand

trying to figure out a way I could possibly comprehend.


What is a normal life? Is it a loving wife?

Is it a home that I could call my own?

With land kept, and breath taking sunsets.

The cool autumn breeze, just maybe it's all of these things?

What is normal in the eyes of a stranger?”


As the sun sets on this strange day,

a whisper of hope these winds say.

On the dieing breath of a heart in chains

now watch the life fade from these eyes.

'The caged lion who slowly dies'

I had given up hope lost my passion.

While in winter watching the death of the sun,

they can strip you of everything,

take your sight but never your dream.

To die with a smile, is to remember what makes life worth while.


Act II

'May god forgive me for what I have done.'


I am no stranger on the road of sorrow,

crossed that line for the sake of survival.

I have witnessed a hell through my own pale eyes,

I felt the shadow of salvation that was just short of eye sight.

Forgiveness needed for our own stubborn ways, and the ignorance it portrays.

As the echo of the ego's war drums beat, having our humanity running in retreat.

Struggling to save face, from disgrace we quickly lose our grace.

Enable the monsters, the hypocrites to cast you out to sea.

Can you even kill the man in the mirror with your own bare fists?

Cheering victory as you now bleed from the wrists.

Stranded in the road, left for dead till your blood runs cold.


Barbarians that feast on the elegance of the swan,

In this cruel world, It's the survival of the strong.

As the wicked things play from dusk till dawn.

Monsters that rape the beauty from the mother of innocence.

Then wonder why an army of son's take up resistance.”


I feel death creeping towards my back.

Hell hounds caught my scent, ready for the attack

foaming at the mouth to strike a little more fear.

Locked deep in your dungeon, with just a whisper to keep me here.

Where I had made myself a prisoner to my own mind, my own cell

and through this maze you are not hard to find, after all this is my hell.




A tragic tale”




I have traversed madness and even escaped hell,

found love and was ready to set sail

however there is something beautiful to be found in that devil.



Her sorrows could be matched by no other,

in her arms was her dieing lover.

The moon had nestled against the peeks,

by the mountainside she had waited for weeks.

Her warrior did not show, fear told her to go.

She waged a quest in search, tore through the heavens in pursuit.

Hell be damned, she would find her man.


She was beside herself in tears,

under the stars she lived her deepest fears.

The beast was slain, but what cost? What pain?

She looked down into those eyes she had grown to love.

With but a whisper on his dieing breath he shall watch her from above.


There is an eclipse over your heart, those tears that tore her apart.

I hear her whisper to the moon, wishing her prayers to be answered soon.

Lost is hope, with no means to cope.”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I have decided to share the first two "Acts" that have been finished for some time now, as I am still working on the next ones. "Ballad of the Stars" will be by far my "biggest" piece written, I decided to base this artistic piece off of Shakespeares plays and the like. There is a direction/theme here however I had decided that with this I will go with my traditional style/method of writing which I consider open/loose (where the reader can relate it to something completely different then to what another reader would.)

As always I hope you enjoy the read! Comments and Critizisim is welcomed as well.

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Lost Myself

Volume Three

Lost Myself”


There is music playing in my head, as her bare feet glided across the stone pavers.

She was beautiful in her white funeral gown, with dead eyes she lead me to her own pyre.

I can see the flames burning away. I can feel the death creeping my way.

She comes to me in the image of beauty, a weakness in my heart she whispers to it.

Did I finally discover my insanity? Having conversations with myself.


The vision of death dances on in my mind,

to lose myself within the thoughts I find.

Silly dreams of such childish things,

where imagination is left to decay

all hope for humanity will rot away.”


Dreams that always fade before they begin, now reaching for the nightmares for solace.

Trying to live in love, desperate to live with love. Just another reminder of a fallen angel.

Wandering a morally corrupt wasteland, knowing no one will ever understand.


I traded the devil the best of myself,

and can think of a thousand reasons as to why I lost myself.

It's a fate that I deserve no less,

It's my date to reserve my death.”


Did I throw away my soul, did I abandon all hope. Lost myself to the madness.

Have I truly gave up on all of this? “The beauty behind the chaos.”

Trying to find myself in this darkness, following the scent of you.

Reserved my seat in hell as I followed the devil.

The skies will go dark and gray, the solemn moment before the rain.

When the heavens open up and the stars weep from above. “Wash away the pain.”




I have been lost for so long, a voice with no song.

I can remember the day I would scream “Where do I belong?”

As grace continues to pass me by, a dream turned nightmare when I close my eyes.

Beautiful memories fade over time as the emptiness will only grow,

trying desperately to find myself before I lose even more control.


With her finger she gently traces the beauty buried deep within my soul.

To wash the nightmares from this day, to keep the demons away.

She walks in a field of roses. In my dreams of ambrosia.

This reality we manifest is, 'experience this misery' we infect.

It's only when I find myself, can I escape from this hell.”



Author's Notes/Comments: 

My newest poem, just finished compiling it together.

As you will noticed from this, like the rare others I have this piece isint done in my normal style. I like to think of it as abstract when I go outside my comfort zone of a particular style of writing. Your thoughts?

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