With every new day,
we breathe in more baggage
and exhale more damage. 

We destroy what we can’t use.
We cry for the bridges we ourselves have burned.
Erecting statues in the names of fools
And we chastise those who see with different eyes.
Our cycle never ends.

We spin on this rock
And inwardly, we spin,
Spiraling into some madness
we have found.
Whatever it is 
crawling, and scratching
inside us
It wants to survive. 
So that others do not. 


A Quiet Madness

This is me.
I am bent within myself.
Twisted in ways I can’t control.

My antipathy is growing. 
My feet move in reverse
My back faces forward.
I watch the past move farther and farther away.

Maybe I am stuck on someone
Or something that has happened. 
Maybe I’ve got so lost in my distractions
That I, myself, am lost; I no longer know me.
Nor care.
I just want to sprint backwards. 

You can watch me. My calm demeanor 
my friendly exterior.
It’s false. I have a thousand faces. 
I am a quiet madness.
Tormenting myself because I don’t know what else to do. 
Maybe it’s some subconscious decision
That this is what I deserve.



A perpetual sadness
Slowly madness
I’m not sleeping
dreaming, seeming
only to observe my life
And not take part.  
But I can’t see it all
Be it all
Free fall
to the ground
from clouds I never rested on.
Best move on
I would if I could.  



I want to expose my brain
And let the madness spill out
to drown the world around me
In an ocean of feverish mania. 

Pull back my skin
of all day frowns
or constant smiles
And see both
hell-fire and absolute-zero
Violent heat and the frigid cold
Surging through my body
Like my bones belong to it.
And I am but a host
for every feeling and no feeling
All wrapped in human flesh. 



I want to be a smiling god
A madly-staring figure
Tearing apart creation. 

I want to be the rumored Nero
with his rumored lyre 
As the world is burning
I hear the music only.

I want to be moved by nothing
But by my own will.
I am hungry for power.
I am starving for chaos.

I want to end
Like a legend.
Crucify me on a symbol of peace.
Burn my image in a green meadow
And speak my name no more.

I want to be timeless.
I want to know and not be known.
But all who see me tremble.

It is better to be feared
Than to be loved.
Humans forget love
but fear can be a scar,
an ugly mark upon their memory.  



He tied himself to the wheel
in a drunken, disillusioned rage.

He can’t tell whether the water is from
the rain in the storm 
Or the waves crashing,
rocking his old ship
in whatever vast sea
he’s sailed himself into.

He dares the storm to gaze into his eyes.
See my wild! He shouts.
See my fury! My laughter! My glee!
Look into my sorrow and my hatred!
Stare into my mad mind!
My ship is rocking! My world is a flood.
And you’re not the captain.