It wasn’t until yesterday.

Warren Daniels LogoWhat is it, with the loss of direction in this flock of pedestrians. They coddle themselves in a blanket of sound waves and cell towers waiting to beam their stupidity to the masses. Yet, a single flower waiting to bloom never gets watered. The line formed from everyday stencils and clay face graphing, is an intellectual hole vanquished in fluidity by a ravenous duplicity, and at a moments notice it falls like rain drops upon glass. So true is it, that as one stays the other goes, and the empty space left becomes particles in an infinite web of zeros and souls. Empty as they may be, it isn’t the choice of a madman but, rather, the insolence of madmen too childish to remain engrossed in their own sufferance, that the entire static alignment bares a heavy weight. Thus, crushing the poor ignorant bastards that have been left behind.

What is it, with these battered beings and their self-inflicted wounds. Those who peddle wares upon stars made beyond plastic moons, and pour depravity upon salted vines of red. It is no doubt the better of the two, to have flesh rather than paper, picture or screen, you know, things. The housing is faulty though, and it only takes but a flicker of movement to ignite an empowered movement, giving  rise to validation and lament. So it is, a lengthy road one must wander, if ever one is to find truth beyond oneself. Cold as it may be, it is that hunger and want that feeds all other false pretense, and the shallow will inherit all they have come to expect. Thus, separating  the platitudes from desperate fools and giving rise to an ever-increasing forest of bitterness.

Here Again

Sitting here with you againnewlogo

They say you are my enemy

but you are my closest friend

 

I feel the sting as I breathe in

And as exhale

I release the suffering

 

These red rivers start to flow

Going deeper, much deeper

You’ll never know

 

I watch as the old paths erode

Although my eyes are ashamed

I feel comfort in my soul

 

 

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Drain Me

Wind me up and watch me fly out of control to my demise.Cross the road
I’m naked, I’m hollow
I want you to,
Drain me.
I’ll do it all for you before I have but a second left for me.
I see you smile, I’ll dance for you, I want you to,
Drain me.
I hear you cry “I need you” but pretend that I’m asleep because, you’ve drained me.
As I lie beaten, tired and weary,
Self destruction is all-consuming,
Yet there is some sick comfort in the midst of it all and I’ve grown to love you,
Draining me.

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Unspoken

It’s such a horrible loyalty that she has to her vice.
Such lovely destruction she carves through the skin.
It’s in her nature now, she doesn’t even think twice.
Her or it? The question lingers.
It… always wins.

She no longer feels its calming sting.
There’s no longer that pleasing pain.
She hears the angels as they sing.
Little rivers flow into her hands.
It has captured her, hollow shells remain.

It’s disgustingly beautiful you see,
no one sees the new prints of emotion.
She’s become addicted and would hate being freed.
Such a shame to watch her waste.
It’s just her deadly devotion.

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The Living Dead

Painting by Brian Zahn, Buffalo, NY
Painting by Brian Zahn, Buffalo, NY

I’m sick

to my stomach.

I just want to quit. I’m tired

of being told I can handle this.

I’m almost through but

I’ve broken down.

I keep looking

for that silver lined horizon

all I see is clouds.

You see the face that smiles

she’s fine,

if you really stepped inside you’d realize

my spirit has died.

I’m tired

of this act, life’s not a play

at the end

of the day all I can say is… I think I’ve gone insane.

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