Thunder All Thru The Night

“How are you?”

I’ve been so goddamn unhinged lately that just the other night, I saw a series of brief bright flashes of light sporadically through the peeking-agoraphobic-neighbor space between the midnight curtains covering a window with no blinds, and immediately knew it was one of 2 things: A Man In Black spying on me or an UFO sending some indecipherable signal throughout the stratosphere. Those were the only options.
Without even considering that there’s this weather phenomenon. Oh, what is it called again..?

A cup, that was set on the very edge of the table, fell the very moment my grip loosened from it. The dull sound of it hitting the carpeted ground made me jump in the air as if I were a housecat and my maniac owner shot 3  rounds of a 9mm Beretta while I was in the same room.

A few minutes after that I walked downstairs to get something to drink and saw a ghastly apparition just in the corner of my sight

a very small orange-skinned man dressed in a jumper made from mallard duck feathers, wielding a blade almost as big as he was, cradling it in his arms like a baby, a smirk on his face suggesting he had far more sinister intentions than asking me to just hold it for a little while.

Imagine a demonic Oompa Loompa carrying a heavy grudge.

It was only for a fraction of a second but that was enough for The Fear to reach near-Peak levels, silent alarms to activate, and make me want to flee this solar system on the next available Go-Shuttle.

Turned out to be a grocery bag of trash I had left by the door some time before to be taken out to the dumpster.

Jesus Christ Almighty, how did I get to this point?

It’s every day with this kinda shit. I’m tired.

I really could keep going but hey. I know you have your own shit going on and don’t have the time to properly hear, comprehend & empathize with what ever the hell this is so,

“I’m fine, how are you?

I Wish U Heaven

I’d like to pull back the veil that comes from posting content online for a moment, if I might.

There’s a lot about the minuscule space We occupy in The Universe that I truly do not understand and most likely never will.
Capitalism, why humans are so goddamn uncomfortable on this planet, Religion, Racism, Queerphobia, Transphobia, why good television shows are canceled before they even get started… just to name a few.

Surprisingly though, however, Death has never been a thing I haven’t understood. or so I thought.

There are far more dead people than there are living people, by a pretty huge margin. We all know we are going to die at some point. It’s a fact that can not be ignored and isn’t something that you can plug your ears with your fingers and screech “LA LA LA CANT HEAR YOU” as you sprint away in some indeterminate direction.

We’re all going to die. It’s a cold hard fact.

I learned this lesson at a very young age (and probably is a big reason for why I’m the self-proclaimed embodiment of Jadism in the flesh). I’ve never had a moment of deep existential dread of “oh no, I’m going to stop living at some point! oh noooo!”

No, my existential anguish has always come from “Why am I, or anyone, even alive in the first place?” A question only expounded by merely existing every moment of every day.

What I’m saying is, Life has always been more confusing to me than Death, leaving me rather -well- jaded to the whole death thing.

Or so I thought.  Or more accurately, what I wish I thought was the truth.

Because if this were actually true, I would have no strong reaction to anyone dying.

But that isn’t true. It’s never been true. So many tears I’ve shed at the loss of a life force in the state it was introduced into this world departing, once and for all.

If someone you grew up with moved across to the other side of the globe, thanks to the power of technology, you can keep in contact. So well in contact that it’s almost as if they’d never left at all. but Death…


I can think back to human beings dying that have had a profound impact on me. As much as the loss itself hurts, what really gets my goat is when I realize what I had been doing at the very moment that the person had breathed their last breath.

Failing an algebra quiz. Buying a shitty sandwich from a chain restaurant. Playing a video game. Masturbating. Fucking sleeping!

More so than the actual fact that Death is a very real entity…. it’s the fact that the asshole is creeping behind anyone, ready to strike, at any time.


There’s something to be said about raw feelings. Unprocessed, unrefined, pure, not dissected in the slightest. I don’t what to do with them. And I’ve been experiencing these sensations, of the Unknown, far too much lately. And, unfortunately, I know enough now to know that dulling these sensations with The Familiar isn’t going to work.

Meaning, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t even know how to end this post. I don’t have a witty closing remark to end this post with that brilliantly sums up my point. I’m not even 100% what my point is at this time.

The Writer Side of me is frustrated beyond belief. The Human Side of me is just bewildered.

So I will end on a quote, sang by a true Immortal, who knew far more than I probably ever will:

If I don’t think about the fact that [you] left me
If I don’t see the pearls fall from the sky
If I don’t hear the accusations of blasphemy
If I don’t feel the tears in my eyes
This is the best day of my life.

God speed.


there is a boy
who doesn’t know how
to speak to anyone

don’t worry too much
he can talk
his mouth can produce vowels
his tongue can hit the roof
of his mouth to form consonants
and knows how to string sounds
along enough to form sentences
but he doesn’t know how to speak

peaking too early,
he learned the weight of words
at a young age
and hasn’t forgotten it since

And since then
he has talked plenty a time
and held many a conversation
but hasn’t spoken a word

Run With Me

It’s only 10 miles.
A circumference drawn by some random douche high above in the heavens on a metaphorical map on the surface on Mother Earth, and you’re smackdab in the middle of it. No compass, no GPS, no clear destination.

Kind of leaves one with the sensation of a deep sorrow nipping at their nose. The perpetual feeling one gets when receiving a simple reply of “k” after typing out a 3 paragraph message.

Just a lone pepperoni slice placed in the center of an ordered cheese pizza by a vindictive underpaid Domino’s employee. A shipwreck survivor stranded in the middle of the Atlantic for what feels like an eternity & finally reaching dry land, only to find out it’s an offshore offtherecords island hosting a U.S. military facility that conducts experiments that would make conspiracy theorists froth from the mouth.
You shouldn’t be here but you sure as hell can’t leave now.

But it’s really only a 10 mile radius.

Kind of leaves one with the sensation of a deep sorrow nipping at their nose. The perpetual feeling one gets when receiving a simple reply of “k” after typing out a 3 paragraph message; every day, written in an itinerary outlined by some random douche from high above. A feeling that never dissipates even as the body runs through the predetermined gauntlet, task after task, every sight seen before seen once more for good measure. The occasional unfamiliar twist leading to an unfamiliar road, sure, but nothing that leads towards an unexpected outcome.

All because of 10 miles. It’s only 10 miles, give or take.
A seemingly inescapable 10 miles.

Kind of leaves one with the sensation of a deep sorrow nipping at their nose. The perpetual feeling one gets when experiencing déjà vu without being invested enough to properly notice.


What have you done to me now?

Multiple sensations bubbling over.

The Witch’s Brew knows no

preconception & holds no prejudice,

leaving one ensnarled in the thrusts

of a scientific response thought left unserendipitous

& oft ignored, long loooooong since forgotten.

What have you done to me now?

What am i supposed to do with this

who even am i


You can’t tell me

and I don’t want you to &

I don’t know what’s going to happen after

this weekend and I

don’t want to

& i don’t even want the definition of

what you’ve done to me now,

Unnecessary analysis is the death

of the feeling of Now


No inner-freak left unturned

Retreat! Neglected and ash-burnt

There’s no If, Then, When, or How

There’s only the freaks doing what

they want to do