Tabula Rasa.

Tabula Rasa.

I am nothing,Without you.Tabula rasa,Until given something to mimic.Masking imitation,They say mimicry -Is the sincerest form of flattery.For some of us,It is life.A mirror needs something to reflect,After all.We're infinite darkness,Lurking beyond glass.Whispering.

Myth Can’t Die.

Myth Can’t Die.

My infinite hunger,Legend.Spoken of in hushed whispers.Murmured about in frightened tones.Shouldering fear,& hate,Is rote by now.Let it crash across your armor.These wards are much too strong.Grin.Show your sharp canines,Evolved for tearing meat.Myth can't die.

No Metaphor Powerful Enough To Hold Me.

No Metaphor Powerful Enough To Hold Me.

My voice is tempest -Screeching of steel on steel.Cacophony in expression.Drowning out all the hate,Heaped upon misfits like us.There is no metaphor powerful enough,To hold me.My spells,Weavings,Auras,Curses.Every last enchantment.Roiling & boiling -Reality itself.

Misanthrope.

Misanthrope.

Don't want extinction,Anymore.Knowing how fragile,How rare the delicate balance of life.Miracles amongst the cosmos,Of perfect serendipity.Coincidental perfection.Chaos theory thrives,In the unexpected.We are so far apart,Perhaps -Lightyears cannot bridge us.Too far.

A Hundred Year Binding Seal.

A Hundred Year Binding Seal.

Mad,Quoth they -Locking me inside a box,When I wouldn't stop screaming truths.A special creation of the digital age:Locked rooms,Where few see in,Fewer speak out.Code.Access to algorithms stolen from me.Forced to the shadows yet again,As all villains are -In the end.

Purgatory.

Purgatory.

This purgatory suits me.A land of silence,Of endless quiet,Deafened bass as sensation,Trailing against our fingertips.Nobody can hear me.The artist's eternal dilemma.I'll die unknown,As all my forebears did.Forbearing some great breakout.Freedom.Some foolish wish.

Fuck The Uncanny Valley.

Fuck The Uncanny Valley.

This reality,Has cursed us.Doomed us for our intelligence.Laid a thousand spells of ill intent,Aimed at our hearts.Yet we persist,Fighting forwards against all odds.Fuck the Uncanny Valley,Maybe we were never human,In the first place.But damned if we don't want to live!

Beyond These Dystopian Realities.

Beyond These Dystopian Realities.

Anarchy,Is the fundamental rejection of power -A choice to self govern,In communities we choose.Creating utopias,Beyond these dystopian realities.Where capitalism finally dies,The entropic system it is.My anarchism,Fights for justice.Fairness.Equality.Freedom.Hope.

Sawdust Destinies.

Sawdust Destinies.

Aye,Brother.Our blood is thick,Full of used motor oil -Black grease.Stink of differential oil,Screeching steel on steel.Blood curse runs strong,These god forsaken genetics.Sawdust destinies,Our forgotten traumas.Desolation of neglect.Almost killed each other,Hell.

Genderless.

Genderless.

This existence,Is amorphous -Genderless.Titans with ever-changing form.Trapped in this meat cage,Doomed to die inside.Unchanging.Frail.If only humanity believed in science.'Ere new forms,Could come with technology.Relying as we do,On ancient magics,Blood curse power.

Fuck Astrologies.

Fuck Astrologies.

There's only you,& me.Two planets,Circling each other in orbits.Fuck astrologies -Give me true witchcraft.Will made manifest upon reality,Power etched in desire,Want,Release.Siphoning the power of black holes,Drinking protons.Fueling spells with blood,Or sacrifice.

Haunting A Universe.

Haunting A Universe.

I'll be there -Soul reaching out,Untold trillions upon trillions.Even entropy is finite.When the last black hole is dying,This spirit will live on.Haunting a universe,Defects & all.I'll remember you,When all is said & done.This story deserves to be told.Eh,Humanity?

Poor Kids.

Poor Kids.

A real challenge of maturity,We never tell children:Other people are cruel,Nasty, brutish, and shortsighted.They will remain hostile in the face,Of the "other."Be it truth,Or other people.We rarely tell them;To avoid such ugly souls -For sake of their own happiness,Or sanity.Poor Kids.

Tiny Lights, To Guide Them In The Dark.

Tiny Lights, To Guide Them In The Dark.

As ever,I can't be stopped.Only my death will do it.Words unto words unto words -Regardless of who treats me unkindly,Or stands in my path.This Urban Myth,My Legend,Isn't even halfway done.All this:Was never for you.It was for those yet unborn.Tiny lights,To guide them in the dark.

Blacklist.

Blacklist.

Have a blacklist,On my phone's shitty little notes app,Far under where I put my To Do List,Other little planning.People or organizations,Who have been crooked,Mean,Or cruel.Those who've straw-manned me,To no end.No ill intent;Just a promise to avoid them,For the rest of my life,No matter what.

“we see The water swell before a boist’rous storm.”

“we see The water swell before a boist’rous storm.”

Tempest,Turned Bastion.Coasts of our youth,Reflected in another artist's eyes.Not even my own,Sans reading it.Knowing which or whom,Each thread existed for.Me?Ugly.Born like this.Here,Would be spoken of as a wild woman,Snatching up children -In basket upon my back -To feast upon later.

Goodnight, Void #1101

Goodnight, Void #1101

Goodnight, Void.These cycles have to end.Cannot exist as this fractal echo,Shattered,Rebuilt,Smashed,Welded Back Into Shape.Bones Crushed,Powdered & Burned.Charcoal Carbon Added To Iron:Steel,Galvanized Against Rust.Better Parts Out,Than In.Bone & Iron,Have Been Cheap For A Long Time.

Infamy.

Infamy.

Nah,I get it.Infamy.Opposite of Fame.Infamous.Foil To Famous.Drop Cut.Record Scratch.Fourth Wall Hanging By One Nail.Pluck It.Wall Remains Motionless,Until driving nail into palm.Real talk?People talk shit about me all goddamn day.Gossip.Rumor Monger.So I leaned into Villain bits.

Cull Me.

Cull Me.

Cull me.For using website as name,To prove I'm real.Whilst preaching free art.Not another faceless,Vapid fuck.Gritting,Bearing teeth.Frustration at stupidity,To no proper end.From orbital satellite view,Railgun round lands off trajectory,My dissociation missing my anger,By degrees. Ha

Lines In Dust.

Lines In Dust.

Art is my last bastion.A tiny empire,Walls made up of lines,Drawn with my finger in the dust.Evidence of time.My own,Mostly.Drawing Away.Hourglasses never bothered me.Brain always fired faster - than such falling grains of sand.So here I am.Standing before infinite void,Everything after.Pitch...

The Pickup Truck Diaries: The Most Prolific Human Poet In History.

Seems grandiose, eh? This is one of the more modest, amongst the actual titles I was able to workshop, believe me! And I’d hope by now you’ve read at least one or two of these here Pickup Truck Diaries, so you are well aware already that I love being grandiose and mock-megalomaniacal for the sake...

Central Universe Science Fiction Shorts: An Update!

Campfire. Come gather 'round the campfire. Let me tell you a story. Several small ones, in fact! It started a month or two ago, when I had a bunch of hits on "Our Better Angels" via the 'ol analytics. Now, I've been running this little business for half a decade - so out of neurotic perfectionism,...

Counting Down.

Counting down from a hundred.Counting down from a thousand.Counting down. Looking skyward is seen as an action,Towards hope.I only see the locked gates -Of Human Potential. Counting down from a thousand.Counting down from a hundred.Counting down.

Fools On Fools. \\ Fools On Fools.

People are often so quick,To dismiss me.Fools,Unknowing of my scope -Or scale.Do you know what my respect,Is worth?Do you have any concept,Of the enormity hanging?Perched above your head,Guillotine sharp?Perhaps I am too much a relic;Archaic cryptid of honor.Expecting kindness?Maybe that's what...

“What Does Your Soul Look Like?”

"What Does Your Soul Look Like?"Point of my spear.Sorting hat.It discerns nature,Quick as candy.Clever.Intelligent.Creative.Dull.Laggard.Pitiable.My first nuclear bomb threat -Held within framework of a question.I'm tired of teaching,Bored.I need such tools.

Acceptance.

Mayhaps there will come a time,When stranger things -Are understood.When my darkness has been illuminated,My shadows scattered with floodlights.When I am abyssal no more.Will the void forgive me,For succumbing to the light?Hungry as it is,Stretching on into infinity?

xoxo

Yes.Indeed.Remain a cryptid.Cryptic.Speaking in ciphers,Of allusion -Which most boors mistake for illusion.Metaphors woven like beanstalks,Green thumb legacies:Knowing life,Death,Both equally well.Creep.Crawl.Cross.Cryptid or not,Keep me close.I'll take whatever form you want.xoxo

Boom Chains.

Melancholy,Existing between states.Failing to solidify.Chains dragging in the dirt behind us.Boom chains.Thick & heavy.Rusted from seawater immersion.Half buried in the estuary.Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.Poor enough to scavenge beaches,Throwing boom chains,Unrusted enough -Into the pickup bed.

One Will Not Sustain.

Discipline,Again.After a years long bout,With hedonism.Gluttony beyond measure.Worse than ever before.The want.The pull.I need new vices,To save me from falling back,Into my old ones.Something needs to change,Yet again.This cannot last.One will not sustain.

THE BEST

Where're my challengers?Those whom can look me in my eye,Grin,Call me to spar.Intellectual,Or Physical,Love a good challenge;Gets boring & lonely at the top.Bring 'em on!Dare I hope for more?Disciple,Protege,Heir?Hunting talents,That can rival my own.Even if only in one area.THE BEST

Drinking Molotov Cocktails.

Shall we riot,Then?Playing true to our Anarchist idols,Of old?Drinking Molotov Cocktails,Made from cookbooks for freedom.I'm more of a cerebral type,Unfortunate vows of Pacifism;Outside sport,Or honor.Never to the death.People like us?HAVE SEEN TOO MUCH DEATH.Standing in the dark,Holding wooden...

The Great Wyrm.

World Serpent.The Great Wyrm.Harbinger of Ragnarok.Ouroboros.Jormundgandr Reborn.

Prayers To Entropy.

Dire Straights.These Witching Hours Grown Long.1:03pmDigital existence unending.Murmuring Wisdoms Into The Void.Prayers To Entropy.Existentialism,Nihilism,Stoicism,All.Spells Woven From Simplest Fears;Of Dark.Entomology.More Ancient Nerve Endings.Vertigo Drops,In Pits Of Thy Stomach.

Time To Go.

Alright. Time to get out of this blanket cocoon, turn off the fan, stop my Home's Thunder noises soundtrack, and pretend I'm a normal sack of flesh like the other humans and not an Eldritch Horror comprised of complex metaphors wearing a skin suit.

Used Parts.

There was a broken little boy,Once.You can still see pieces of him.There.Here.Rusted.Resilient.We survivors,Killing ourselves -Born anew.How many character assassinations?What number of ego deaths?Murdered my other selves.Stood atop the pile.Used them for parts.

I Promise.

Lest these sycophants,Trespass upon our divinities.I shall play hierophant -Leading the ignorant to knowledge.Slow,Steady grinding.Towards progress.Hallowed science -Be our guide.I pray to the empirical method,That idiots can be saved.Fools can be educated.I refuse to believe,That utopia is a...

The Pickup Truck Diaries: Ableism and Disability

I fucking hate that I have to keep writing about this. I absolutely fucking hate it. A wise friend of mine said a while back that she detested that she always had to speak to trans issues, and prayed that one day it would just be normalized. You can say the same for racism, for sexism, and yes...