Mask of Reality

With strength to beget the faceless,
and a mask to hide the agony.
A place of solemnity,
nursed by shapeless facades.
Warmth give by the cover of darkness,
isolated from reality.

The mask hides the scars
washed by tears
driven by purposelessness.
Their texture,
so concrete to their existence,
match that of a mask of reality.


For someone special…

Your eyes glisten,
with memories we once had.
A twinkle like no other,
holding dear to thoughts
and feelings we mutually shared.

Your smile holds the happiness,
we felt from the greatness created.
A beautiful curve,
strengthening the ups and downs
we both experienced.

Your delightful words,
the utterance of existence;
the pleasure of our hopes and dreams,
formed into a reality
of our own.


Hopelessly, I fade your face,
Quite too stuck in this place.
Carefully I try to slow my pace,
With dreams of you in lace.

Hopelessly, I dry my tears.
Locked absolute by fears.
Seldom do I think of the years,
Instead only your face disappears.

Hopelessly, I forget all we’ve borne,
The things that you thought not to mourn.
Pretentiously stabbing like a horn,
Everything that I lorn.


Your face is an enigma,
a palpable mass of confusion,
as dense as the collagen,
extracting a faceless expression
of anguish an pity,
deranged and empty,
swallowed with lies of age,
immune to the perception
of understanding.

Where Were You?

Where were you as tension built
and enviousness consumed reality?
In the dark of an alley,
just before dusk?
Perhaps laden with thoughts,
ever so consumed by the past…

Where were you as the sun fell,
and the cool drought of midnight
lay perched upon a visage of loneliness?
Maybe staring down the menial
ditch of seditious lies?

Where were you?

Precious Yet Devious

Goddamn this hazy vision,
this last attempt at renewal.
I know how it seems –
strange and abnormal,
the life of another
so precious yet devious,
acknowledged so blatantly.

But is it really so strange?
One life compared to another,
both so precious yet devious,
inwardly abandoned above all?

Things have changed,
no one is sure of what’s ahead,
but we all just watch it break down
with this goddamn hazy vision.

The Tale of A Wanderer

I lived my life like a wanderer,
traveling from here to there.
I’ve seen many faces
and things I won’t share.

The life of the roads
feels exceptionally grand.
Though, as time goes on,
it gets difficult to stand.

With each passing day,
I see wonderful things.
but now I can see,
this would be much easier if I had wings.

Still, when you’re a wanderer,
you have to have will,
which is considerably difficult
when you can’t help but sit still.