Running around this maze, dead end after dead end, Give me my life back. Give me my light back. Give me my art back. Give me myself back. They told me many things:  youth is a false lie, you're a fake king. What has been taught has slipped from my mind like a string, A creation of mine that echoes this maze, that rings. A lot of things I've said, a lot of things I fled, a lot of things in my head, clouded mind only tied together by threads,  I ride down my own mountain with m

There is something romantic about the nonexistence of fate. Without the semantics: I have never believed in soulmates. Past the whispers of voices, and the twistiest of turns, through the strangest of choices, you will get what you earn. That you chose someone, over and over again. And if there was none else I could say, then that you loved someone, for all their smooth lines, and if there were none, their rough edges still shined. It’s easy for the world to bring two people

I can’t see hope on the other end. All I see is the blinding light of darkness that never bends, only straight on its pathway down to death, so my only path is deeper down the cave of rest. My emotions are strained taut against the cave’s walls. Devotion’s stained lungs rot with a history of late falls. Never returned, never let us learn. So what’s the point if there isn’t light when you close your eyes? If there isn’t anything but demise? It’s light. It’s there at the end of

The wind whistles loudly. The walls can not block out the sound. It whistles, and the wind chimes sing. They sing their hearts out. The wind whistles, and the leaves rustle. They sing along with the chimes—harmonize with the wind's guidance. Nothing else intrudes upon the silence, and nothing dares interrupt the chorus. As the wind whistles, I wake up in a tent. Birds sing. The sun is only just now coloring the sky. My sleeping bag is the only warmth in the world, but I leav

Sitting on a fence ledge Feet dangling Palms flat Leaning on a wood plank Soft hum Pursed lips I stare into opaque eyes They stare back They don’t blink I glance at the messy hair Shifting slowly Tickling air Pebbles crunch beneath my shoes As I turn back to go…