…a battered soul, a spirit lost to the midnight hour, the world spinning out of control, set to destroy. Warning to those who dare think to enter this land, only death shall follow…

lights-1254324_960_720.jpgA misery inside, a passionate fire put out before a fiery rage, a scream into the moonlight, close my eyes, do not let me die here, in this broken place, wake me up from this nightmare.

I stood at the edge, my eyes gazing into the starry skies, the Gods stood by, waiting to see what fate decided, suicide of a worthless soul, his spirit to disappear from everything.

The endless nights, the beast prowled, the silence of the dead dying on sheets in crypts made of marble.

“Craw….” the words echoed from my dying throat. I could not see, just hear the voices in the winds, her scent drifted into what was left of my brain.

The Goddess, the madness, she was there, not as a vision, a dream, but flesh and blood, a person.

I wanted to call out her name, but my voice was gone, ripped out and stolen by the crow, Master and Mistress, to the wind, to the time, it was nothing but a fantasy, strangely ripped from the pages of time.

The city had been built, a perfect place, filled with perfect people, but destroyed by imperfect solutions.

Towering buildings, golden, rusting in the sands, bridges destroyed, crumbling into the mighty seas.

The Guardians, the beasts, trying to guard this horror, kept watch, killing those few who made it through the defenses and the gates, the world was not ready for the truth.

It had to be spared the horror.


Mired in misery, the waters, the lands, the air became poison, killing all.

They who dared to enter the arena, the dead world, were killed, the memories of them erased…


We run away into the night,
Our pain, our memories,
Our suicides…

I did not know where to go, down the streets of memories and pain or into future loves.

Future loves could lead to the greatest, the best, or the horrible.

I had both, a great time of “I will love you forever!” and then it explode without a reason besides “I’m, confused!”

Confusion can equal many things such as “I met someone else, he better than you!” to “I just hate you!!”

Memories are triggers for hate.

No, I can’t figure it out yet.

“I didn’t mean I loved you, I meant, well forget what I meant….”

I’m confused too!!

I have to get you out of my mind, you are no longer available, a vision, a dream, not even.

So here I sit, alone, feeling insignificant inside my brain, like a burning candle, dwindling forever, leaving flowers at the grave, leaving sounds and sights inside my brain, memories poisoning my life.

I feel your presence, I wonder if you feel the same, do you hear my name?

I bet you don’t, I probably meant nothing to you, just a joke, not even a ghost in the machine.

Here I sit, in my world, how can I see into your soul anymore, like I did those days? You were my everything, you told me I was your days and nights, till that day, then I became nothing, a thing to throw away.

I cannot even say anything negative as my friend says you are the best.

You aren’t.

You took what little heart I had and stomped on it.

I cannot even say your name without throwing up.

I cannot say anything negative about you as my mind will not allow it, even it is against me, tells me you are a good person.

I sit here wondering what I did wrong.


July 12th, 2021 –

Dearest love, my sweet,

When I dream of you, I dare not wake.

I wish to hold thee in my arms, in plain sight!

I do not care who see us.

May they know us as lovers, though in your eyes and wake I do not know if you still feel that way.

You are my life, you are my soul, you are my everything.

I know we cannot be together, our souls and body held apart by walls of mostly our design.

I wish you were here, as I would make love to you, as a man should to his woman.

I am here without you, you are a thought in my lonely mind, as I work in a dead end job, I think of you, you are my muse, you my soul, you are my heart, I want to take you to a beach, the sand holding our bodies, embraced in a kiss, how I love thee.

I am here, late at night, your face is my vision, your body my lust. I wish you were here, with me, right now, instead of me with my lonely mind.

I know tonight, as I sleep, I will dream of you, we will kiss, we will laugh.

What can I do?

What can I say?

I do not know, I tell people about you, how I love thee, they do not understand the meaning of romance that I have for you, how I want to feel you from the inside, I know, an animal feeling but one I must know.

I also know I have hurt you as I have let other women into my life, lovers, dates, to take you away from me, how I wish you understood, that I know I cannot be with you, but I wish I was.

I wish I was there to hold you, to comfort you, as a lover should, during your times of need.

I know you have others, friends, acquaintances, how I wish I was the only one.

Your friend and dream lover,



I have traveled somewhere and got lost in a book store once. It may have been in Lexington, Kentucky. It was wonderful!

I need to write tonight, I am very tired, not necessarily physically, mostly mentally!

I’m trying to be a good boy, I didn’t kill anyone today!

I may have beaten some customer with a loaf of day old french bread and may have shoved a ten pound turkey up their butt.

Cashiers can get cranky when they skip nap time and then have a customer screech, “This turkey should have rang up at $12.95, not $12.96.”

DO YOU FEEL THE PENNY NOW MY FRIEND!!!!  I scream, shoving pennies by the bucket full down their throats. I AM RHAK, WARRIOR GOD!!! DIE PAGAN FILTH!!!

This gets you a visit to HR.

“Do you think that it was appropriate to scream….” reads transcript from the video surveillance “You have awaken the evil inside of me that has slept for a thousand years!?”

I shrug and then reply, “Maybe, the entire scene needs to be viewed in its entirety, it’s a master piece in English Norse Theater!”

“Does shoving a bottle of $18.45 wine down the customer’s throat while screaming, TO THE WHORES OF YOUR MOTHER’S WOMB compile into this theater script?”

I nod.

“We’ve had 58 complaints today about you!”

I smile.

“That’s down from yesterday, gotta admit, it’s an improvement!”


Also, my brains are turning to mush.

People don’t realize the fun of being a cashier.checker.dragon slayer.

We stand there for hours, scanning your otter pops, control top pantyhose, and $4.95 a box condoms.

“Pick up a pregnancy test as well, same aisle!” I smile, fake of course. Checkers don’t have real smiles, just like they don’t have souls anymore.

They sold theirs for a box of cereal.

I sold mine for some Raisin Bran.

Nummy for the raisin bran!!

Course, standing there, you get to think, deep thoughts, deep, deep thoughts, like —

  • I really must have done something wrong in a previous life, maybe killed a whole bunch of babies. Maybe I was Hitler. Or a Pharaoh of Egypt, one of the evil ones, who killed a whole bunch of babies.
  • Why did I go to college for?  “Hot babes, lots of drugs!” my brain responds.
  • Do cashiers really get laid a lot like the recruiter said?
  • What is “Getting laid”? Will I ever see a really life naked vagina again?
  • “Probably not, loser!” my brain responds. “You should have stayed in school, became a doctor of literature or underwater basket weaving.

Seeing my old professor from my college days brought back some of those memories, of college frat parties, girls, girls, men, men, more men, no wait, wrong flashbacks!!!
Professor was head of the humanity department, I took his history of the 20th century world, and learned to question authority or do drugs.

I don’t remember.

If you remember college, you did it wrong.

Or maybe that was the 1960s.  I forget.

“Hi! Been a long time!!” I said.

He beamed.  “Did you take my classes, what was your name again?”

I told him.

“I remember you, you were the smart ass in seat 7 row A!”

I nodded.

We both laughed.

I told him about my adventures as an IT monkey for the mafia or a casino in the middle of a corn field, my descent into madness AKA retail.

“You should write a book!! I’m working on one!” he nodded and then we had to part ways.

It’s always nice to see old professors and teachers so they can see where their prized students landed.

“You were my hope…” one of them almost cried at me, running away in tears.

If I’m your hope, you’re f*cked!

I wasn’t his real hope, he was going senile, his wife explained to me later, but if it made me feel better, worst, whatever, then go ahead and believe it.

I’m a hope!!!


I don’t like to write about myself, as in the first person, reality sets, non-fiction crap that goes straight on viral in the topics of depression, masturbation, or medical science as a cop out for why I’m insane.

Nope, I don’t usually write about my addiction to porn as that might go viral, I’d go famous, be invited to talk shows, talking head doctors on the boob tube asking me questions like, “Why my friend do you like to self-abuse yourself?”

Cause it feels so good when I stop.

We’d all laugh but deep down, we’d know it was the truth.

Tonight, I can’t sleep.

I wrote another piece on another site – found here – LETTERS TO THE DARK – FICTION

I write sometimes just to get stuff out of my brain, an escape, stuff to drop from behind the happy mask I wear, even in front of my lovers and friends.

I sitting here at 1:40 in the morning, writing, just stuff right now, off the top of my mind.

I did take a nap earlier which probably didn’t help but also my mind is racing, thinking, over thinking, over processing things, so I just decided to put the thoughts to words, and hopefully they make sense to whomever reads this or my other blog.

The night is a good time but also a bad time, a time to think, the time most of the “normal” people are in bed, sweetly dreaming, or in nightmares, and here I sit, listening to music, and writing, a third blog entry on two sites.

I think it is what keeps me from going on a long walk off a short pier.  Few people in my life know the madness that is inside my brain.

Those few people have the same issues, one of the reasons we couldn’t move to lovers as we are too crazy.

Someone needs to be anchor to reality, someone has to be the one who screams, “Hit the brakes!!!” as we head towards the cliff!!

I really shouldn’t listen to death metal lost love songs on YouTube.

The ads on the videos are depression medications, the ones that cause thoughts of suicide or vision problems.

I think masturbation has the same side effect.

“You shouldn’t masturbate anyways, makes you lose your edge in madness!” I once had a girl tell me.

We were very close friends in high school.

We tried to kiss once and ended up falling off her bed.

There we were on the floor, she on top of me, laughing.

Her mom peeked in.

“What are you two doing?” she said.

“We were on the bed and fell off when we tried to kiss!” Sarah said, laughing the entire time.

Her mom laughed and shut the door.

“You want to do it, don’t you?” Sarah smiled at me, feeling the bulge in my pants.

I did.

She did.

We didn’t.

It would end up ruining our friendship.

We kissed for awhile, there on the floor, she guided my hand up her shirt, feel her.

But that’s as far as we went.

She told me later she had wished we had gone farther, to had me as her first, that day.

She ended up in a toxic relationship; an abusive prick.

We sat one day at a bar where we met up, to talk about the “Good old days”.

We ended up at a motel, a classy place, a hot tub next to the swimming pool.

It was nice, sitting there in the hot tub, next to each other, people who came in assumed we were a newly wedded couple preparing for a night of love making, hardcore sex, whatever.

We didn’t, again, but as we let the bubbles guide us into a place.

Again, we kissed, we made it back to her room, on the floor, making out on the bed as some movie played on the TV.

“Do you wanna?” Sarah winked.

How I did, even more than that day back years before, but we didn’t.

I left that room, hours later.  The morning sun rising.

Is the above real?

Who knows, it could be, it could be my imaginary world.

I know most of you are like, “Sure, you didn’t have sex with her!!”

Anyways, welcome to my mind, come on in!



Anal bleeding and thoughts of Suicide – A Cure for Depression!

What is society but a bunch of junkies, tax lawyers and such trying to get laid and failing at such?

“I can get laid anytime and anywhere!”

Some people roar while others cry out, almost whimpering in a silent voice, against the dying of the machine, “Fuck society!”

Society is a broken machine, still trying to chug along, plowing into things, people, whistles through the belts, a resource hog.

“Why does society disappoint you?”

Maybe all our heroes are counterfeit, maybe all of them make money off the back of small children.

Maybe this is all an illusion, a horrible dream, one of us needs to wake up, screaming, our lover will hold us, the one who passed away in that horrible place almost five years ago.

We’ll tell her about the horrible dream.

Sadly we’ll wake back up in this world, this is reality, shit reality, but reality nonetheless.

The medication we use to make us “happy” and “:lovable” aren’t working, definitely not curing us from the madness, the rage, it’s not even hiding it into the closet, the fester and mold.

We are a society of pill takers, to cure depression we take a pill that makes us live through thoughts of suicide and anal bleeding just so we won’t be sad.

I’d be fucking sad with anal bleeding let alone thoughts of suicide!!

The voices inside my head say I’ll be okay and that’s fine to me, even better than anal bleeding and thoughts of suicide.

Society is a revolutionary evolution, sliding towards infinity but with a short term life ahead of it.

Creatures moving towards death at a high speed of velocity, a wall in the way, any second.

Rebels without a clue – angry at everything, even the perfect lay, the ultimate fuck.

Listening to the soundtrack of their generation, wishing they could go back to that time, Mary Jane, in the back of the Chevy, fucking like school children on a Friday night, instead working for $7.50 an hour while their wife screws the mail man, doesn’t even know if the kids are his.

Perfect past, dead present, no future – welcome to society…..


Silence in the rain, the company, a band of brothers, young children turned into men by placing a gun in their hands.

Loves kissed goodbye, last time.

Humanity was at war, the war to end all wars, never again would the terror, the bombs would not fall from the sky again.

Or so they said.

It would happen again, a new generation would march off to their death, for freedom and the mother or father land.

Anarchy as the wheels of war moved through the apocalypse, grinding the bones into mother earth.

“Fall out!” on command, they would charge forward, the bullets tearing a few into sweet embrace of death, her kiss the blood running through the soil.

Silence in the darkness, minutes, hours, years, then bombs bursting in air, misery and tears brought to the home front in the form of a letter.

Dear Mrs. Sandra Locks,

It is with deep regret to inform you that your son, Private Williams Andrew Locks, was killed in action…

It was on a Saturday, a sweet summer day, a breeze blowing in from the west.

A clear day.

Sandy felt her legs give out.

Three days before, Doc, as he was known by his friends and family, had written a letter to his mother and Sarah, his fiancee.

July 19th, 1944 –

Dear mom and Sarah,

Hello from the front.

It is very quiet right now so I decided to write this letter to you and Sarah.

I miss you both and even my brother George. I hope that little squirt is taking care of you and the farm like he promised.

When I get back, me and him will be good partners and make that farm the biggest and best in all of Crawford County.

I am counting the days.

I also know my child will be a strong hand too!!

I will be home soon, I have a good feeling, and sitting in the Chevy at the drive in with you, my Sarah.

Give my love to all the family, we moving out tomorrow morning.



The next day, he was killed by a bullet to the head.

He made it home, sadly, in a wooden box.

The soldiers saluted.

The service was nice.

Sarah gave birth to a boy, Charles James.

Killed in action, 1969, Vietnam.

The madness kept moving forward, the body count kept rising.

A nicely folded flag, a salute by the guns…