Tumultuous misadventures through the mind of one struggling with the mundane, while grieving the air of daily affairs.

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  • Record Player

    I used to sit and wait like patience was a virtue, wrought by indecision in the simplest means. Too scared to reckon with a permanent record that existed nowhere, and now I exist nowhere but this room. Prison, sanctuary sanctified by incense and mellow tunes. There is no tomorrow as long as the curtains are…

  • Again.

    The gate is closed. Entrance upon exam, You’re hurt.

  • Journal Entry: Que Sera

    I used to sit and wonder how time collected like dust on a bottle. I used to collect them, literally the bottles and sit. Looks on my own displeasure. Someone else’s trash, my own recycling beauties. Something about a clear glass bottle screaming luxury and use. Every time this feelings comes up again, I notice…

  • Broken Record

    Let it play on the record, and let all dismal abysmal interactions be put on hold for mere seconds… just to let the cuckoo fly some more.

  • Rock and Roll Heroes

    Halos and chaos hang in the balance, and nothing is up for wrought decision. The airwaves go back millenia and the skeletons learned how to rock and roll long before mankind. Too presumptuous, too much of a lead, the dead had on mankind. Vampires and psychic wars. Only the elite opened their third eye and…

  • Twisted Ways

    Whichever way is driven, may a time come where peace and serenity pervade deep into the skin, into the mind and may it be a source of concentration and focus on the greater path and union with karma. Only any other species may lay malignant in hypocrisy. Cast judgements and sooth souls into serene landscapes…

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