Thru every door

I walk


to the heart

to the essence

of the future.


From the past

I run

escaping the hurdles

of the present

to finally see thru

the eyes

from which I gaze.


Just a blank stare

onto a blank page

that soon will hold

my creation

of perception


and will forever behold

the future

of my imagination.



My Shadow and I

Cold nights


under the moonlight.

You said the night

cast our shadows:

this wasn’t true.

You would put on that mask

and hold me near

tell me all was fine

that night knew no fear.

I laughed and said the night knew of us,

so of course

the night bathed

in the waters of the wicked.

The three of us

together as one:

behold myself

my shadow

and his mask

for the night is quire.


This lawn chair:

blue and shiny


dripping its memories

upon the gravel.



longing for a love story

to be written upon

its wear.


the time will come

when two

will cuddle


its bare.

Painting a sunset

with visions


and through.


Different To Me

Look through these spectacles and tell me what you see.

I see a woman, not short, but not tall. She has short blonde hair that frays at the ends like old weathered twine. Her face is soft, but not lovely: bags under her eyes, aged from meth amphetamine, and a black eye. Her clothes are torn, patched in areas, and mismatched. She walks with her head down, shuffling her feet.

Now, put on these spectacles and tell me what you see.

I see a woman, not short, but not tall. She has long, glossy blonde hair. Her face is soft, almost polished with diamond dust. She wears a red, silk dress. And she walks with confidence.

Which spectacles are you looking through?

Often times, I gaze through lenses tainted by my own intolerance and character defects. I see a vision of my own misjudgments, and there lies no color, just black and white clouds rupturing into a storm of ignorance.

Sometimes, I just have to wear different spectacles.