Feeding the Demons (Poetry)



Generic, washed up, played out… the same song on repeat all day… the silence when it stops, a feeling of relief as if ending a hideous torture… generic, average, lacking in uniqueness or individuality… a boring stale cardboard taste that creeps inside the taste buds, permeates everything and improves nothing… at least darkness is dark and lightness is bright, but this pale beige exterior has exterminated the colorful interior until it all moves in a mash of beige nothingness, blankness, yet not even a canvas, for there’s no place with which to start…




Insanity, anxiety… I see you look at me and diagnose me… crazy.

Some days it may take everything inside of me

Not to make the same mistakes and break something, somebody

On impulse.



Bridges burnt, a fight or flight, candles flickering in the night… stuck in grey, no wrong or right… I only wish to see the light and find what’s true… fire burns blue inside of you… I have worn the other shoe… I only wish to see and do the things within my heart… everything, it falls apart… keep running out of fresh starts… do stupid even though you’re smart enough to do better… getting feet wetter in being a trend setter… doing everything down to the letter… becoming an admirable go-getter in this life’s vicious game… nothing ever stays the same… it’s far too easy to forget your name… it gets comfortable knowing where to shift the blame especially when it’s away from self… this is that old book, lying dusty on the shelf… he’s finding himself… she’s finding herself amid the tattered, worn out pages… holding in the boiling rages… feeling locked inside golden cages… learning life in painful stages of love, growth, and grief… fluttering downward as an autumn leaf… shattering waves upon the reef… seems such a waste when life’s so brief.


Darkness, dripping through tired concrete walls/ barely breathing bodies haphazardly line the halls

Coughing, screaming, gasping, pleading/ retreating and greeting, the dying, the bleeding

Temporary bandages cover gaping wounds/ fingers aching, wrinkled, shriveled into prunes

A pool of transgressions with rotten intent/ of which the well and honorable resent


Dead limbs, reaching as if asking to be reborn, to be recharged with life. No longer will they wave gently in the breeze, full of vigor and vitality. No longer will they show expressions in a language long revered. Instead they are cold, stiff, unyielding, as they remain in place. No shred of life along the tendrils. Always, only, painfully reaching toward the sky.


A Rambling Meandering Thought: Everybody is full of Crap

We’re all trying to figure it out as we go. I see through it all and see that we’re ALL just a jumble of serious insecurities about flaws and disconnections. People in general show such conviction in the face of uncertainty and reckless compliance to moral obligations, instilled by the nudge of an antiquated few. There has to be a balance between loyalty and forgiveness. Taking on the righteousness of others and taking up arms along with an indignant misplacement, constitutes the beginning of a war against another person, however small the matter. All you claim is peace at your core, counterproductive to which actions you’ve chosen. Peace is a way of life and a difficult choice in a world full of bent feelings and preconceived ideals of black and white. How then, do any of us expect progress to be made when peace is thrown around as a concept and pipe dream , rather than viewed as a potential reality? Even close friendships are hard to manage when no shits are given for the way an individual looks or talks or chooses to dress or style their hair. When compassion is tossed into the mix as a viable and realistic option, it comes to pass that no common sense is welcome in the heat of misplaced anger. I want to speak of bigger things than what’s in fashion or who is famous. I want conversations about how to start making big changes in this world, starting psychologically, becoming philosophical, and ending in realistic, attainable action. First though, let me clean up the remnants of the last civil war within myself. That’s the problem with judgement, with what we believe to be the best course of action. We’re all just full of a bunch of crap that we want others to believe in too.

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