Who Am I?

I am a shadow, long gone
I am forgotten, disappointments spawn
I am the weeping, in nights silent hour
From society, who savors the sour
I am the dark, stuck within my fears
I am denied, to them and all who hears
I was a dreamer, now hiding within my sleep
From the all of the promises that I can not keep
I am a shadow, long gone

I loved, and I loved you well.
Even after you challenge me hell
I remember, she parted us, you and I
She kissed your cracks, promising you lies
She left you broken, by the dead
But me, I wanted you by my side, to cherish instead

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An old class assignment I digged up.

It was supposed to be more simple and straightforward.

But I remember, I couldn't help myself from twisting it up


Which results with this


ThoughtShock: A Manifesto Chapter 19


Chapter Nineteen

'The mark of a coward'


The devil will wait for me on the road of desolation,

at the crossroads of my weakness and obsessions.

Will these words become my final chapters?

As I walk head on into the den of vipers.”


           I am still here, still alive and kicking. Down but not out. I still have some fight left in me and a great man would stand and take that beating once again. Only I am no great man, as I just want to lay here until they are finished with their abuse.

Life is a challenge as we confront our demons that tempt us into the free peep shows of sin at the core of our hearts and minds. Even now I can hear her whispering in my ear and even now as my tainted blood pumps through my body I feel her seductive pull that is peace. To become numb, both physically and emotionally.

We live in a world that sucks the very life from you. To survive in a broken shell of a body. Abused by years of bad choices and horrible mistakes and often finding myself repeating many of them. Should be into my prime, when I feel I need a crutch just to manage through the day. Reaching my limit of self centered narcissistic egotistical sadistic people who only see me as some bump in their way. It is disturbing that once regarded friends would only use me for money, cheap labor, or a glorified taxi service and those friends would become ghosts when I would find myself in need of a helping hand.

        The human emotion. A paradox that could drive a person to insanity. When negativity roots itself deep into your soul you are left but with few options and even fewer that look promising. It is in your darkest hour, battling your demons and hordes of beasts that want nothing more then to skin you alive, do you find your worth.

Left alone, and to your vices. Where when even the most extreme outlook can feel like it's your only lifeline. It is not always just about suicide being the worst remedy to depression. Sometimes the most tragic tale of a man's saga to survive is that he simply just gave up.


          The worst part is that reflection behind the mirror is truly not my own, rather a junkie hiding in a collapsing shell. That bitch of temptation did her job well. Having me strung out and left for dead on more then one occasion. She believed I was indeed broken, having gave up like my eyes told the world. I had lost everything that was beautiful and was thrown to the darkness to believe the lie that love was dead and gone. All I saw was pain and suffering, lies and assholes. Monsters and ugly beasts living in paradise. There was once a time when I would pray for madness. An escape from the brutality of the darkness. I am no great man, I am but a coward.


I feel as if death hovers over my shoulder

just out of eye sight. That eerie sensation

that you are slowly slipping away.

Knowing your losing grip on reality,

why continue to chase the demon?”


                        'The fallen shall be slain;

Forever to know pain and to the victors with a kiss. Sealed obedience and hear the whispers down the hall. They speak of how you will fall. Tripped by your own accord, a purchase you could never afford. Now bound by debt, you praise your slavery with regret. Just close your eyes, there goes just another star for you to idolize. When up is down you cannot feel around, how does the honest man survive?

          Face the mirror, face the demon within yourself. Taste the fear and destroy yourself. Sick and tired of circles, the idiots and bigots hypnotized by the sparkles. The meek can't afford to be weak, when the devil is standing at the peek and just think of the havoc he will wreak.


So now I stand before the gates, as the fallen have been slain.

My heart now hangs in shame. The honest man dies.

Ask yourself if the heavens cry out in sorrow,

would you feel the tears as they fell from the sky?

Walking with the blind, collectively empty, your soul left behind.'

Author's Notes/Comments: 

ThoughtShock: A Manifesto Chapter 19 'The mark of a coward'


There really isint much to say about this piece, Other than it does have a very specail meaning for me, I hope this piece helps a person better understand their own demons..

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What do you think will happen now?

what do you think will happen?
you lie to the ONE person you know you shouldn't
you say you love him and you don't
you see other men while you are "with" him
you continue your pursuit of your once secret relationships
relationships where deceit and lies are the foundation
relationships that think they are special to you

it didn't work for us
it won't work for someone else
you need to stop and take some time to yourself
and think about what will happen

you can't protect the feelings of those you care about
you can't use lies to heal
the truth eats away at you
and if you don't stop telling lies, it will consume you completely
and you will look back and see there is nothing for you
what do you think will happen?

it isn't true that not getting caught is things "working themselves out"
it isn't true to lead someone on, that they will be happy with that
it isn't true to sacrifice dignity for no ones sake is helpful to anyone in any way

what do you think will happen?
take the wheel and stop rolling dice
think about how it hurts them in the long run
think about being really nice
if you lie too much, you'll end up believing them too
isn't it a painful confusion to keep the stories straight?
how love for you turns into fear and hate?

try a walk without a report or an audience
try to have a dream and ask yourself what it means
try to listen when someone trusts you and shares with you
try to be honest even though no one really wants the truth
try to think about what it's like to be someone else
try, with the rest of us, to make Earth less of a living hell

what do you think will happen?
do you think you are invisible?
do you think everyone will swallow your pill?
do you think you've finally got your fill,
or do you have a lot more to dole?

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Psalm of The Broken


My eyes have not seen
And my ears have not heard
What my heart wants to know.
My tongue is a snake
A poisonous viper.
My hands are evil
But cannot leave me.
My soul is in torment
It haunts me day and night.
My heart is broken;
Love has long left it.

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Sorrow Sits Uneasy

Sorrow sits uneasy
so long since any peace
so long since any feelings strong
her stricken heart gone numb
She breathes out the burden with a sigh.


Shed a single tear, her river flows and wanes
as sorrows washed anew away
in truly such a static state
ah, such is life!
an endless circle
just like the ring he promised!
and so she’ll seek, so she’ll search for more.


She sips her coffee quietly

a bitter taste, her soul intently
searching for an answer
embittered and battered heart as hers -
bruised, broken, shattered.


Sorrow sits uneasy
so long since any peace
for true love commands her heart
and, so often, true love is silent.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Guard your heart and keep it whole! Be wise in whom you give it to. Give it first, foremost, and fully to God, and then you can go through any and every sorrow with an inward peace.

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Plighted Knight

Have you been through barren wind lashing landscape to a place where the only pleasure is pain?
Have you swept through grand illusions of mountainous peaks, romantically doused in valleys?
Have you throbbed and whetted painfully soaking in an untouchable Mire of frenzy in enstasy?
Have you felt numbness broken by searing thoughts of pain-bloated vomittous purges bringing ecstasy?
Have you been so relieved, so rejoiced by knowing you still stir to feel wrapped in delusions so real?
Have you lost the last filtered longing rays of the loving light alone, wondering why so stark?
Have You toiled and panicked and sweated for hours when those illusions left you crying in the dark?
Have you taken to all the corners of your mind digging for the recesses of the lost corners of your light?
Have you schemed and plotted and travelled to chase a glint of memory through the endless night?
Have you burned your eyes in desperation sending beams of longing soul light through those windows?
Have you traced the walls of imagined heights scraping your fingers to the bone, looking for a crack?
Have you forgotten your God, reinvented your religion and realigned the center of your universe in hope?
Have you burned your heart so brightly as a sacrifice in hopeless knowing it will be a lost beacon to the lost?
Then leave me, you can never know my plight.


An alternate is *then fuck off- I feel this is more protective but not in keeping with the rest of the work I guess I just have to choose wich one really is the true intent... A difficult conundrum.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The traps of our mind are the most dangerous landscapes to travel. Need a better name -too tired to think if you have an idea youre welcome to share it and your opinion too, honesty is thoroughly appreciated. Thanks.

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The Power of a Knife 2-10-04

A strong, silver blade slides up my wrist
Red shiny blood is visible – not only on the edge of the blade ~
But pouring from the veins in my arm.
It’s not enough! Don’t Stop! More!
This pain is so relieving!
It relieves my thoughts of the day.
Now-the blood’s running from my other wrist!
The words go through my mind as I contemplate rather or not to finally succeed.
“You’re worthless” “You’re stupid” “Just Go Away!” “I HATE You!”
SHUT UP! (I shout out)
“Failure” “I don’t care what you think”
I can’t take this anymore!
The knife’s rising up to my throat.
One last silent good-bye
Memories are rushing in and fading out!
The cold, sharp silver blade glides deeply through every layer of skin.
As my right hand pulls it across …
From left to right.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

to write out how i felt kept me from acting upon myself... i wish i figured it out years before hand...

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The Decaying Ruins of Paradise

8:45 PM

Long dead and forgotten in the tattered shrouds of time, the old room bellowed out in silent melancholy; agony as it called out from beyond the cold, deep grave of maggot ingested darkness, as it called out in vain for salvation from the putrid stench of eternal decay, which had long made bed in its lifeless carcass.

The contorted gaze of rotting torment frowned down from the remains of its once, flesh covered walls, as shadows danced in the flame of some unseen hell upon its lifeless, gray bones.
Dancing, dying; reeling to and fro, they bled out, spilling down and out onto the hard slab of concrete waiting below, spreading like oceans of black blood.

Billy coughed slightly.

From beyond the safety of the blocked door, faint howls of deathly torment filled the distant unseen. In his ears, the sound of death slamming against distant glass echoed, thumping madly, as if to overpower the sound of his own heart, as it pounded against the walls of his chest. The slow creeping death was coming; he could smell it.

Even when locked in one’s own the cage, thought to be safe from the savage ones, the unending death, that feasts on our fears, it still finds a way in. Once thrown into a world of cursed existence, there is no going back. The old world is gone.

This place…this room…this is my casket.

In quiet desperation he stared on, waiting patiently, breathing slowly; gripping the ivory handle of the massive .357 revolver, as though it were life itself, as though the death at the tip of the barrel was the very essence of salvation. Through every shallow breath, he could almost feel hope.

Weak, numb, and slowly fading, he could feel the blood crawling through his icy veins, flowing slowly into the grave, as he sat against an old stack of bundled papers, which had long remained unwanted by human hands, which were as dead and rotted as the old junk parts and rusted tools littered cross the floor; Left at his feet to die with him.

This is how we end up…forgotten and thrown into the dirt…left to rot away.

“I won’t end up that way.” He whispered to himself. “I won‘t be walking death.”
In the cold, dark realm of death’s eternal night, only the softly burning light emanating from above, seemed to be his source of warmth. As the orange glow squeaked back and fourth on it’s rusted chain of hope, it’s arms of dim comfort reached down to hold him within the morbid embrace of painless death and end of suffering, which slowly devoured his body and soul. In the end, nothing can fight off the hungry darkness that creeps from the unknown.

So this is what death feels like?

As icy as the blood seeping through his bandage, a sudden rush of air filled Billy’s burning lungs. From the unseen, it found him. From beyond the gates of despair, it surrounded him, taking him into its arms, as if to carry him into the unknown. Holding his arm, Billy let out a gasp of pain, gritting his teeth at the sight of the horrible wound.

Everything is gone…eaten away. Nothing but death and loneliness exists here anymore…I should have left when I had the chance. Why does it matter anyway? This is all I will ever see again. My lovely Angel, this once beautiful town.

In his mind he could see the things he once loved. The things that once made his life. Now he could only hope they were alive, he could only hope their fate was not his. He could only pray that his efforts were not in vain. To stay behind, to risk his life; what is it worth to sell one’s soul for the life of another?

“This is all for nothing.” He spoke softly to himself. “All for nothing.”

In the weakening grasp of his savagely bruised fingers, he held the revolver close, gazing at it, entranced by the dull light reflecting from its stained surface. In those chilling hours, a tool of such horrid violence and death felt like the only bringer of peace of a world where control and order ceased to exist, where nature had broken down. It had become his savior.

As he slowly spun the gun’s cylinder, time seemed to be forgotten, and the creeping doom, seemed to die away from his mind, even if for a moment. With each click of a passing bullet, a thought of a memory died.

As he fought within his mind to find thoughts and memories of things he couldn’t remember, it found him.

What is that?

Alone and left to the maggots of decay, the battered remains of an old photograph shrieked out in horror unheard. From beyond the shelf where it sat, long abandoned and unloved, the tormented, shadowy faceless crawled upon it’s coffin of glass, scratching, gnawing; seeking to devour the savory flesh hiding within, seeking to feed an unending hunger from which there could be no relief.

That poor old couple…lost and forgotten, just like the picture they once so happily posed for… they never had a clue.

Even From their expressions of happiness, a dark sorrow seemed to resonate, carrying with it, a melancholy prayer, which begged out for salvation from the death they could not escape. As if to hid the desperate struggle within, each smile seemed as though it were holding onto every breath as though it were the last. He closed his hazy eyes.
I can hear their heavy gasping…their dog like heaving. I can feel them, their hunger…I can feel the hunger…the fading thoughts of everything that was life, I can feel leaving me.

Around him, he could hear the low growls, he could smell decayed flesh. He could feel a growing hunger, which began to filling his slowly fading mind, replacing everything he knew with something else…something evil.

As saliva dripped from his mouth, Billy found himself unable to control his own thoughts, and though only one memory seemed to remain, he fought to hold onto it, even as he felt it slipping away into darkness. Even his movements weren’t his own. Weak and faded, he gazed down upon the gun in his lap.

Why can’t I feel? Am I becoming them? What has God let upon this earth? This is the end of all things. I have no control…Oh God…can I die now…let me die now.

Suddenly, from out of the distant unseen, the violently shattering of glass took his dying thoughts by surprise, jerking him back into the dark reality, from which he’d left only moments ago. The loud, horrid heaving of hungry death, found its way inside. Against what was once his safe haven, the unseen beat savagely. Moaning, gasping. His dying eyes filled with terror.

They’re so close…I can hear their God forsaken cries of agony and sorrow against the door; their sickening breath seeping through the keyhole…They know I’m here…no God, this can’t be happening.

Like worms of the freshly buried cadaver, beads of sweat began to slowly eat through the lifeless, pale skin of his clammy face. As if seeking refuge from the terrible death that had closed in upon him, they slithered away in horror, leaving only fading reminders of where they had once been. Into his blood soaked shirt, they vanished.

I can feel them…their cold, diseased hands all over me, tearing at me…ripping me apart like rabid wolves…their sickening breath all over me…and those eyes. God why?

Alison…Forgive me.

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From 2008 and on

Gravity. By Nikki Price Sometime in 2010

Rain pours. I turn a key and the sound of the click makes me smile. Something works, but not my life. The thunderous sound of the rain on the roof drowns out the sounds of the tv and my mind drifts away. Time passes as I sit numbly, staring out into space. Perhaps I wouldn’t exist except for the heaviness in my heart that pulls my body to the ground.
A loud click rings out – a door is opening. I jump, mumble an answer. Alone again. I’m a robot. I have no control of my life. Some force pulls the puppet strings and I move, some machine feeds out my answers and forces polite smiles onto my face. No choice, no say, just oblige to the hypocrisy. Mind shifts, starting to lose focus. Moments of nothingness. My diamond ring sparkles. Some lucky woman deserves it, some lucky couple in love. Why is it on my finger?
I am glad it’s raining. Is God crying the tears my body refuses to cry? I wish I could lie down in the rain, let the torrent wash over me, either drowning me or lifting me into the sky. Is madness so bad?
Few people would miss me now. My finger lovingly traces the contours of the face of death. Promise me it won’t be painful, okay? Will God take the ache away or make me bare it for eternity? Truth is, I’m dead already, but somehow my body lives on. Like brother Scarecrow I have no heart, for I gave mine away and never got it back. Greedy man; I smile, but it doesn’t make it to my lips. Turns out it was a gift never wanted, but nevertheless “no returns”. My heart wants to believe so bad that he was kidding, of course he loves me too – secretly, bone deep. This is how I know I am mad.
Am I hungry? Not sure. Am I tired at this wee hour of the morning? I don’t know. All I can feel is the absence of you that always makes me feel tired and my heart feel heavy. You tantalize me with friendly words, but my very soul aches for so much more. I want to know you, the ever-developing person of you, but will you let me? Some cherished moments of tender connection, then so much distance I feel pushed away. You have a life, your own life. I have dreams, memories, longings that threaten to ruin my life, my robot life. If I demolished my life for the sake of being closer to you, one of two things would happen: I would feel great happiness at following my “id” despite the fact that you would probably reject me again, or I would be more scared and alone than I am now, with no one to turn to. But the manifestation of you in my mind constantly calls out to me, giving me very little peace. It teases me, bidding me to come closer, to taste, to touch. I open my eyes and you disappear. Leave me in my dreams where my affections are returned.
But robot woman has a robot husband who gave her a big, sparkly ring. People become machines when the heart is silenced, when loyalties are not questioned, when souls form deep chasms of emptiness that echoes with desperation.
Eyelids grow heavy, breathing slows, sleep comes. Dreams begin.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

About a year and a half before I got divorced.