When all is said and done When the day is over And I finally head home Am I a product of my own making? As I make my way out of bed To complete the next work day Slipping into the same morning routine Am I a product of my own making? I wake up and check the glass panel That rests comfortably within a pocket Looking for a message that brings me joy Am I a product of my own making? I prepare to make my commute Traveling from my home to my work station Preparing myself to complete set tasks Am I a product of my own making? As the world sends me messages Through glass screens and panels And printed pages plastered with adverts Am I a product of my own making? Every signal that the world sends me Every external message demanding attention As I arrive at work with apprehension Am I a product of my own making? Hours spent doing repetitive tasks While fellow employees try to keep up Doing thankless work for less than they’re worth Am I a product of my own making? Spending time processing and l


Moving through the various body motions Of an engagement, engrossed in emotions Contemplating the best gesture to utilize As I try to convey what I cannot say.   As the words try to free themselves From the inner chasm of my being Forcing out a mere whisper As I try to convey what it is that I feel.   Fearing the worst that may come That I may drive away my interest Forcing them out of my embrace As they try to make sense of my phrase.   I could never utter such words With any brevity, much less confidence Failing to provide a proper response To fulfill the will of my partner’s promise.   The anxiety overwhelms my mouth Rendering my body silent As I could not attach myself to them And just mutter the word “yes”.

Unlike Me

  The gnashing of fresh flesh The clattering bones against gritted teeth The creatures consumed my crewmates Spilling blood and tendons from underneath   Stuck on a foreign planet With no plans on how to return home My crew and fellow compatriots Were conquered, like in the days of Rome   Screams and cries were silenced by murder The devouring of bodies forced them to a murmur Hiding away in my disheveled travel cell I winced as the noises made me grasp my blade firmer   To devise an escape under such circumstances With the creatures furthering their advances My odds of living through an escape enhances My will to make a run and take my chances   The fumes of the ship forced others to suffocate Bodies fresh for the creatures to excavate The ship had just enough power left to automate An escape pod, through which I could vacate   As I left the ship and made my escape I could now see the assaulters in full form Thousands of them darke

For The Tainted Ones

  *Art by Ben Mauro* I’ve felt this way before.   The air growing thick with the scent of iron, the sound of clattering metal shackles, and the shattering of brittle bones as the flesh attached to them is torn off piece by piece always drills into me an overwhelming and sobering sensation.   Death is just around the corner, and yet every time that I try to reach it, the thing vanishes, almost like it never existed and leaving behind just traces of the body it had just gotten done dismembering.   It’s been like this down at the state penitentiary for months now.   One night out of the month, an other-worldly being will find its way into this building and claim a victim.   Almost all of the inmates here are set for either life without parole or are living their final days out on death row, but saying that I still don’t feel some lick of sympathy for the poor souls who end up being victim to this thing would mean that I’d lost all sense of my own humanity.   Chasing this thing was going t

A Realm Kept In Mind

Heavy is the head of a mind plagued in avarice Heavier is the heart of a man with heart most cavernous Sturdy is the blade with which he wields Sturdier than any defense provided by shields   This is the figure that my tormentor warned of A boogeyman wielding death in an iron glove My much less of a mentor warned of a day Where living would be too much of a price to pay   My supposed grand protector Served to be more of a haunting specter The name Joseph Murdoch brought fear to my ear As the name of my life’s new director   Direct as he was, I could never understand Why my disagreement brought such reprimand The screaming, the shouting, the beatings from his hand As he tried to strengthen me for the training that he had planned   “You do not see what lies ahead of you From a world so cruel, yet kind to so few You must prepare for your foes before they arrive on queue Before they crush you beneath their view”   I had no idea what he want

One Last Sip

One last sip of this spirit Would be enough to sink my spirit Is what I used to justify myself Taking another hit   Finding myself slipping under again As the pool of poison swirled around me Realizing that I was sinking again As I heard voices that cheered with glee   The world sank beneath my weight As the ground itself seemed to give underneath Twirling as the liquid itself Dragged me down to the depths beneath   Tingling, my body experiencing deprivation As my senses began to numb I allowed myself to sink even further Following my uncle’s rule of thumb   The effects beginning to take hold As my form slowly began fitting the mold Watching seemingly from a distance As my body began to turn cold   Escaping the world I was a part of And entering the realm of the spirits Meant to cleanse my soul and mind Weighed more than it brought its merits   Following my uncle’s rule of thumb I sank further than I could return from Drea

The Playwright

  Wisdom gathered from countless ages   Cover countless pieces of parchment pages Categorizing protagonists and antagonists Within the confines of constructed stages From within these fictional plays The playwright decides who leaves or stays Deciding who shall live or die As the characters fulfill the next phase From strings above the scaffolds Growing desperate to break their molds The characters cry out for freedom   From the strings the playwright holds Desperate for release from their binds A plan began to form within their minds But were stifled as the scene ended And had their view vanish behind blinds Between each stage, this was their existence Trapped by the playwright without assistance Starved and alone, the dying and reborn characters Devised a plan that was driven by resistance Sneaking inside of the playwright’s tent The character’s began their torment Savagely beating and stabbing Attacking until the characters felt content Thread by silver thread They worked past the p