somebody from my heart sang i could turn off and never wake up


August 2017

Girl At The Bar

She sleepwalks in a neon wonderland,
holding hands with monsters in red;
allured by the thought of something grand,
even as her wounds tore open and bled.

She closes her eyes to resume the healing,
while those around her continue to take;
completely she depends on the feeling,
struggling to separate the real from the fake.

She’s beautiful in her dress made of stars,
everyone overly eager to offer a drink,
but she’s not impressed by money and cars,
reserving admiration for those who make her think.

She relentlessly endures suitors flirting,
amateurs unaware their chances are zero;
one by one she leaves them hurting,
until the day comes when she finds her hero.


philistines need not apply

Pictured above is Ayanami Rei from Neon Genesis Evangelion for those of you who don’t know. I’ve always related to this character for some reason, among others seen throughout this site like Lain and Reimu. Rei’s calm appearance and stoic mannerisms made her stand out to me, as well as other fans, and her revolutionary design started an entire archetype for similar characters in other anime to follow.

I feel “Of Petrichor Weaves Black Noise” (which, as an aside, I believe is one of the greatest composed songs of all time, and I’ve listened to a ridiculous amount of music) goes fantastically with this image, and the lyrics describe her appearance so well that one could imagine the song being written about her. Not only that, but they also sound like they could allude to NGE itself. I’m aware I’m just making connections where there are none; the songwriter most likely has no idea of anything I’m speaking of, but that’s the beauty of great art– it’s open to interpretation.

What I touched on above is merely the inspiration these works of art give directly to me, for which I’m very grateful and why I love art– combinations like this are the closest I’ve ever come to a religious-like experience. I’ll sit and listen to music and stare at pictures for hours at a time, studying and extracting every last drop of emotion I can from them, and that is how I become inspired to write my poems.

I put this in the category “pieces of me” and titled it as such because no words I write could reveal more about my psyche than simply appreciating the art I share for yourself, and hopefully feeling even a fraction of what I was blessed to feel.

disclaimer: primarily written for posterity, these are the kind of musings people only care to read when you’re dead


Behind the face with empty eyes
is a bad moon poised to rise;
harbinger of hate, disgrace and lies,
laughing wildly as the angel dies;

Behold the promise of pain eternal,
ruthless destruction of hope’s last kernel;

Trumpets and army of locusts arrive
as all search for shelter but none survive;
a time when only woe can thrive,
even into deep waters dive;

Lamb of God not to be,
excess of blood repaints the sea;
demons revel in murderous spree,
life again shall never be free;

Weep poor soul at decided fate,
thoughts return to halted state;
it truly matters not the date,
thou again shall never create.

Player One

Ever searching for the next level
I bent the rules and became a rebel,
truth be told it wasn’t my meaning–
I couldn’t help my psyche’s leaning,
playing by regulation didn’t seem to fit,
and I knew this a game unaffordable to quit,
I was a marionette attached to fate’s strings,
always managing to hatch a mess of things,
but in that mess I found my own style,
and I did nothing if not make you smile,
that alone made my whole life worth it,
anything more would’ve been just perfect,
by destiny and design I had plenty of flaws,
for example too often I’d just hit pause,
content to sit there and pretend I was frozen,
so much wrong with the timing I had chosen,
but somehow we ended up where we now are,
a place from where perfect doesn’t look too far,
only God knows where this outcome ranks,
humbly and graciously I give my thanks,
it was a nightmare to pinpoint the edits,
but there’s no question your name’s in my credits.

A Caged Bird

The melody soothed an ailing soul,
more than just sound was what he heard;
an artist deftly struck their goal,
a book of emotion packed into every word.

A tired heart began to find its rhythm,
more than just hope was finally seen;
a human managed to close the schism,
restoring faith where doubt had been.

Fingers slowly started to move,
a troubled mind given strength to fight;
he knew that he had much to prove,
more still left to be inspired to write.

The sun burns slow but tides move swift,
so quickly he used what was left of his might;
grimacing as light outside threatened to shift,
he knew this song belonged to the night.

Stained Glass

Magnificent colors in mesmerizing matrimony
rendered me reticent amidst a grueling ceremony,
but they spoke to me in ways that nothing else could,
and I was willing to listen when no one else would.
In my apprenticeship I was undoubtedly torn to pieces,
attempting to find where peace is and chaos ceases,
but even as those I loved fell one by one to cancer,
it was crystal to me I may never find the answer.
In my defeat I hoped that you would lend your ear;
observe what was written for when I’m no longer here.
It’s doubtful to amount to anything resembling good,
but it beat the decaying silence from where I stood,
and in the end that shattering was all I ever needed,
although I admit for many material things I’d pleaded–
I just wanted to live in some way forever,
because I knew it was much too late for never.

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