I give my hand
You stare at it
Green eyes meet look away
Nobody is perfect
I know
But I’m here for you
Don’t you see?
You can’t
You’ve turned the
Other way.
I tried to carry
Your cross with you
But you’d rather
Let it fall
And break into


Maybe heroes aren’t real
After all.
Maybe the cross we carry
Will be the last weight
That weighs down our
Hopelessly lost purpled souls.

Romanticised Fuckup

Stumble into a crowded haze:
searching and seeking fun times…
hedonistic t-shirts
snapback suppressions
skinny jeans suffocating
used needles
white mirrors
rolled up notes
broken bulbs:
ruined in these ruins…

But we want this.

Razor blades
rotten teeth
failed jobs
butchered hearts
& puffy scars.
Dozen pills popping
dawn to dusk sipping,
wars & weapons
shooting and stabbing at rules
to pass the time.

Do we even care?

I don’t care
don’t care about you.
Taught by my father
who was never there
to abandon and run,
evade and suppress.
This is the life I want, I preach!

Striving for Club 27
We’re c-c-crazy!
Live fast die young,
I don’t wanna live.
Don’t even care!

No compassion here.
Pull the trigger on yourself,
brother bear.

A Fatal Truth

I’m told it’s okay to be me,
but you don’t know how it feels not to be free.
It’s okay to say that things will get better,
but sometimes they don’t.

Nobody notices someone who is in the dark;
a shadow of my brother because he’s the spark.
My parents walk over me like mat;
they wipe their feet on me and smile to him.

I don’t want sympathy, money, even love –
Just want to be noticed, acknowledged, smiled at.

Then I think…
Not everyone is meant to be great;
mediocrity, depression, loneliness: my fate.

The Pawn

I’m shifted along
the blocks
and played and
even sacrificed
used to achieve
the goals
and ambitions
of the master
I have to do
as I am told
I have no
choice in
this life
I’m picked
up and moved
and used as
a tool to lure
the plan
to fall into
I feel common
and know I
am used
I have no
ambition for
myself because
I am an
instrument of my
master’s ambition

maybe one
day I can trade
myself in to
be a King
until then I
am used



Infinite stories of a struggling boy –
destined for greatness.
He knows the way to walk;
he holds the key.


Stare deeply and you’ll see:
the boy inside screaming.
He just wants to run away;
far from the pressure.


Ice-chambered seclusion…
From his true desires.
He is trapped but dances;
a way to hide his true feelings.


His eyes hold a richness unmatched;
so too does his passion.
Yet he runs from his shadow –
the confusion makes him feel low.


His soul window melts hearts;
his only gets more confused.
But he knows the truth:
he is quite sure.



a continuation of the struggles
which we must all bare
through all the pain
and the acid that
burns at our emotions
and erodes our youthful innocence

a continuation of something more
a beating heart beats like
a beating sun that breathes its bold
breath of heat

a continuation of the pain
that we all feel not because it
destroys but because it creates more
than what we realize
for only out of the struggles
emerges the beautiful
as a pair is always defined
by the other
giving rise to definition

a continuation of the continuation
and a comma, to your pain
to your pain, a comma because worthy, you are
of the continuation to reach
the evading enlightenment of life

but this comma continues,
continues, comma, comma, comma-strife
until it


Sonnet of Pain

A broken heart and pain is all I bear,
Wrecked, torn, beaten and shattered by life’s fist;
My dulled soul seeps happiness from its tear:
Sharp, sickly shards which my existence mist.
I fell in love with those who liked real me,
They all changed the way I felt about life;
With them, oh, it seemed that I could just be.
They failed: results of the paternal strife!
My greatest strength, my greatest weakness too:
My caring and loving hurts me each day,
Unto life’s wooden cross I said, “I do.”
My debts on earth one day I will them pay.
But for life has not been that much so kind,
She has a reason: my life I must find.