Abaddon Arises

Manic me runs through flowery pastures

Rain soaked and laughing

I bounce about, beautiful words sing themselves inside my head

I am glowing

Radiant from the life that flies through my soul at the speed of light

The world is a better place

I cannot stop smiling…


Every up has its down

And I descend quickly

Darkness falls upon my heart as Abaddon arises within

The Great Destroyer has come to eat my soul

And, that, He does

Devouring every good thing; burying my joy in the unmarked grave that is my life at that moment 

Every breath draws me closer to that from which there is no escape

And I die to the blue skies

Embracing the thunder that pounds away at my heart 

Believing every terrible thing that screams its way into my head 

Flowery pastures be damned, for Hell has won this day 

Sealed With A Kiss

I wanna play with you

Laugh like kids and runaway with you

You be Sid and I’ll be Nancy

Shining our stars down on the downtrodden masses

They’ll envy our love as we scale Life’s skyscrapers

We’ll fly, minds melting one into the other

Blazing out into that other place

Eternally entwined 

Sealed with a kiss

The Game

You wouldn’t like me if you knew me

Bet that

I’m so far from who you think I am

That a million mile journey would not reveal, to you, my face

You watch me in silence

I smile

As I see your curiosity taking over

I’m looking back at you

But you don’t notice

Because you are captivated 

And so I advance

Smile, in tact

Throughout sunny days and stormy nights

I dance in your head

Your pursuit thrills me

You are in my head, as well

And I am in love with this game

Knowing that, finally, I will prevail

And, at the last, you will have never seen my true face

Bet that

It’s All Good 

I’ve grown weary of saying I’m fine

I’m OK

Yeah, whatever

Smile pretty 

Act sincere

Whatever you do

Swallow the truth like a good girl

Write crap like this



What the Hell

It passes the time


Mind fucking 


Retail Therapy

You break my heart and I shop for towels

Towels, of all things

I am sad, heartbroken, and hurt 

So, I search the internet until I can barely see straight

Until I find the perfect towels 

Then, I spend hundreds of dollars on fucking towels;

Woven towels

Plush towels

Patterns and plain

Towels made of the yarn spun from the hair of the Tibetan Yak 

That’s how I’m coping

With your rejection

Your judgement 

With your intolerable sense of superiority 

I press Confirm Order

I feel relief and peace rush over me like a river

In a moment’s time, I’m over you

I laugh at myself

More so, I laugh at you

Realizing that you truly rate somewhere between bathroom towels and a blow up foot bath 

Then I thank God you weren’t the Ferrari I’d imagined you to be 

Ol Bertha 

I have an old wooden rocking chair that’s held together by the grace of God

I call her Ol Bertha

The glue that once held her creaking joints in place has long since dried up, and has given her a crackly old voice

She’s rocked every baby in my family to sleep for two generations, and held me in familiar arms when she was the only comfort I could find

She has been a silent witness to the good and bad for over thirty years

Now that I’m alone

She’s an old friend…a time machine

We share memories over sweet iced tea

And secrets over whiskey 

There is something so comforting and familiar about my rocking chair

So much love and happiness caught up in the grain of her wood

That I’d sooner die than live without her

Life is funny that way, I guess

Of all of the people who’ve come and gone

I prefer Ol Bertha to them all 

Truth, In Short Messages, Found

You said goodbye to her, but you never said goodbye to me.

You said goodbye to her, but you never said goodbye to me.

You sonofabitch! 

I was 33 years in, and you said, “Goodbye,” to HER, but you never said it to ME. 

God, grant me the serenity… 

Your memory is the gift that keeps on giving. 

You’ve been gone for ages, yet I know you better now than before you left 

This world

And me

To clean up the mess. 

Your fucking whores

And bastard offspring. 

Your drugs

And your lies. 

I harbor no hatred for you

Because what I feel is so far beyond hatred

That it makes me feel as though my mind slips away into it

Like a warm bath. 

Were it only your blood to bathe in, I’d stay lost in the feeling 


Living the Cliche 

I’m living the cliche

At two-fifty an hour

Spilling my guts to a man;

He is jaded by the pain that walks through his door

Nothing he hasn’t heard

A swift, unafraid, hand

Scribbles notes and prescriptions 

Throwing them at you like ninja stars 

Hoping one sticks