Greedy Fly

I was thinking maybe I was winning. Only to come out of the dream caused by the beating. Looking up my Defence stands with bat in hand. Be my Advocate.

Whipping my soul. This thing has decided that when conscious, I should be in pain. Who will question this? You care not if I see justice. Were is an Advocate.

Why will not this Greedy Fly just eat me. It’s waits, starting over when I regain consciousness. If this was vengeance it would be okay. Instead it is amusement and carelessness, and I have no Advocate.


Speaking figuratively take me literally
One can not say what they mean
So they should mean what they say

Number Nine

Could of
But did not
Ready, willing, able

Would of
So did not
Words you spoke

Should of
But did not
Walked out yesterday


The difference between truth and perception, are the colours assigned. Shades of grey can come too close together, leaving no middle, no place to leave things behind.

In the difference between truth and perception, bad things take root. Leaves that are really sinister deeds, have all the time they need to bear fruit.

The difference between truth and perception is a space that no one looks into. All choose a side, then choose to deny all that is not alined, each to its own lie.

Little Things

All the little things
Pulling at you
Holding on to you
Throwing you off your path
Taking what you would not give

All the little things
You should have looked after
Swept up and put a way
Are gathering pulling at your skin
Lacking patience and understanding

All the little things
Ripping into you taking control
An example a testament to
Nothing left undone
Is ever truly left behind

King (II)

In truth nothing has changed I am where I always was and I know it. There is nothing new here but things can get so ugly when colour is added. My King has spoken adding details that make my bones so cold they shiver. Words that make me so weak I can feel myself tipping over. I try to stay upright, but deep down inside this fall is welcomed. I want to crash into the ground so hard a shallow grave is made. Then let the dust settle and cover me in place. Only without hope will I begin again.


There is one mistake, I have named it Rome. It is an empire unto itself ruling all that came after. Every choice is measured to it, all outcome flow from it, like Rome all roads lead to it. There is one mistake, like all mistakes, it was build to last.

King Of Hell

When the good guys are the devil you know.
Where all close their eyes to the fact that
the good guys work for the devil unknown.
Is this a new or the same old world?
Can the Devil even play on this earth?
When he fines himself out done at every turn.
Does he live in fear that the fires of hell
are made from the will of mankind.
Can it be his faith to spent forever and a day,
fighting to stay the king of hell.


I draw a line in the sand
Through it I can be define
When by it
I know where I am

I kick it
I walk it
I confess to myself
I would cross it

When on it I am lost
Simple things not so anymore
Am I coming or going
Who am I fighting

If I walk away
The wind will see to it
Nothing more than it was
Never to be found again

A Toast

A toast to Death and Consequences. Time will show that you are words to live by. Wise men know that you are words to build by. Man may have chosen to forget you but I know you have not forgotten them. For inaction is still action and actions breathe consequences. Lost in their wants they grip tightly to what hands them over to death. To the fall of the ignorant walls build to keep you out, they will only crumble in the face of your necessity. I raise my glass in your honour, as you patiently wait to reintroduce yourself. To Death and Consequences in all your beauty.

No Escaping It

Walking out side is like waking up from life, there is no escaping it. Natural light in my eyes beating me down, there is no escaping it. It does not like my ways. I lock myself inside, with every intention of escaping it. It hunts me down from dawn to dust. The night my only ally. I would bring it down, but that would be an act of ultimate destruction. There is no escaping it.


Not only did Curiosity kill the Cat, it had every right to. If the Cat wasn’t looking into something worth dying for. Then it died because it couldn’t mind its own business. Either way Curiosity was completely justified.

A Spring Without Rain

A Spring without rain is a cool summer. This is not why I survived winter. Without rain, there is no music from April showers. I want water from the sky, I waited so I could feel the heavens cry. Not to watch the Sun plan it’s attack using the tail end of this long winter to hide. Scorching the earth, leaving it dry, stealing its life. It will have its season why must it take mine. I demand rain clouds in the sky, with a downpour so rich, I can not see the other side. Soaking me to my bones as I stand alone outside. A Spring without rain is a cool summer. A time for others – not mine.


“They don’t love you like I love.”
“They don’t.”

“They don’t love you like I love.”
“I know.”

“They don’t love you like I love.”
“They can’t.”

Evil Calls

The friend that is there, no matter it is no friend at all. Always sure to visit, it misses you when you’re gone. Seeking you out, it listens with intent to all your wants. Its path is wide, you do not doubt nor fear being lost. By the hand it will take you and run you to ground. All the while never giving you cause to question the course. Evil calls, it knows you by name, it knows who you are.

On Hope

All hope is false. Kin to wanting, it is the recourse of those that lack planning. The distraction of choice used to keep the mind off its failings. Cruel and careless, by design misleading. It is chief among false promises. Its nature is fleeting, never lasting, it comes and goes as it pleases. Blinding all it possesses.