Hear Me

I fumble through and fight to lose
But always get up again
I just don’t know what to do
So I do all I can

I can’t face the light of day
The memories are pain
But the dark, is cold alone
It drive me insane

And I can’t even speak of what feel

To many people far to close
But no one’s here for real

So my soul burns
While heart beats freeze
I rise again
To hit my knees
With trembling hands
I beg and plead
But no ones left
To hear me scream

My heart broke clean in three
Torn apart by the fates
Despite the hurt that they caused
I just can’t come to hate

So I try to carry on
But their faces remain
I don’t know what’s left to do
So I drink them away

And I can’t even say what I do

Because of all I’ve said and done
I have to hide me from you

So my soul burns
while heart beats freeze
I rise again
To hit my knees
With trembling hands
I beg and plead
But no ones left
To hear me scream

And even if I could find the words
To help you understand
I don’t think that you’d ever see
Just the way that I can
So I wear the mask that makes it right
So you don’t have to see
Just remember what you’ve come to love
Is nothing like me

So my soul burns
while heart beats freeze
I rise again
To hit my knees
With trembling hands
I beg and plead
but no ones left
to hear me scream

And no one’s left to hear me scream
There’s no one left to hear me…


Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the US. My family and friends will be gathering together to celebrate having family and friends. Most of them will probably do so a touch begrudgingly as they deal with the inevitable irritation that comes with those gatherings. But for the most part they will be glad they took the time out of their lives to get together and catch up.

I won’t be there. There won’t be a spot set for me at their tables. I can say with relative certainty I won’t even come up, beyond perhaps a passing mention. I can say this because it’s been the case for the last few years. I get various highlights from those that could participate and someone is always kind enough to let me know how my absence of more than half a decade has led them to hardly notice I’m not there.

Which makes sense. After a few years then it’s just the way it is. It’s not really worth commenting on how much the same things are. People want to discuss whats new. Not what happened exactly how everyone knew it would.

Still, for the first time since I left the world I knew, I find myself facing a holiday season alone. Not completely without company. There are still people who would welcome me, and I am appreciative of their kindness and friendship.

But it’s not the same. Being invited to see other people’s lives isn’t the same as having one of your own. And right now, I don’t.

I just had a lot of people walk out of my world. People I thought I could trust. People I believed in. For the most part it wasn’t just a simple leaving. It was lies and manipulations and cruelty. And I realized how long I had trusted in people I couldn’t trust. How long I had counted on people who would walk away without a thought, so far as they let on to me.

My life could be a lot worse. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly. But it’s just survival. I’m thankful for that. Despite everything, I am thankful to still be alive. But surviving and living are very different. And I am only just surviving.

Most recently I pissed off two very dear friends of mine. One of those cases it was a mutual thing. Two stubborn people adamantly holding their position, both thinking they were more ‘right’. The other was more callous insanity on my part. Either way, I haven’t heard from either since the incidents, both of which happened within twenty-four hours of each other.

The number of people in my world is dwindling. And I’m about to shrink that number even more as I realize how bad some people are for me. Or how bad I am for them.

Thanksgiving. This year I will give thanks for the few bold souls so have withstood the chaos of my life. They are so very few anymore, but they are of the greatest character.

I will give thanks for the miracles I have bore witness too. Surviving the survivable, always somehow having just enough to manage, even when I shouldn’t. The comfort of gods, spirits and patrons who have never carried me, but have pushed me to keep me going.

And, I will be thankful for this hell. The last two years have seen some of the worst days I have ever known. Days I I hurt in ways I had never even imagined. They have seen me in and out of hospitals, with ever failing health and mental breaks. They’ve seen the loss of the many, many people I have loved. Death and insanity and pain.

But through it all I have been free. And facing the darkness today I saw the alternative. Hand my mind and will to someone or something else, find peace in being blind and carried. Give up the fighting and struggle and loss for another power having control of my life.

My life maybe hard. But it is MINE. I maybe subject to the whims of fate, but no more than anyone else and I have the power to adjust my sails, to chart my own path.

So often it seems that you can be happy or you can be free. But even in the darkest hour I keep going because for every new low I remember that there will be a new high. For every hurt there will be a joy, for every curse a blessing. Every dark day I face just means that I will have to find a new light.

So I am thankful for this hell. For the test that makes me more than I was. For the adversaries that teach me in my defeat. Everything weighing me down will make me stronger. Not today. Today will suck. But some distant tomorrow maybe brighter for it.

I hope that all the people I have lost aren’t gone forever. I hope some of them become a part of my world again. I hope that there are new friends not far away.

I may hope in vain…..but I hope. And that is more than I have been able to do is recent times.

So I’m thankful. I’ll continue to struggle. And my days and nights will still hurt all the same. But I’ll be thankful. For all the people and their kindness, for the opportunities and wisdom. I’ll be thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving.


What I Am

“And they that were born to darkness were shunned by the light, not for their sins but so as to be the salvation of the lost” – Gospels of Limbo


The stench of charred flesh carried on the wind across the lake. The glow of the growing flames reflected off the water and into the plume of smoke slowly filling the air with it’s acrid haze. A dozen homes burned in the wake of what had become an all to common occurrence. I hadn’t been able to save everyone.

I watched distantly as emergency responders rushed in vain to save the people they believed still trapped in the burning buildings. There were no survivors left, but a small part of me applauded their determination. At least now the flames and smoke and falling structures would be the only threat.

Not the monsters that had been there an hour ago.

Flashes of the past thousand fights flitted through my minds eye in the space of a heart beat and it left me reeling. Can’t look back. Can’t ever look back.

I shook my head and tried to think ahead. Tried to think on the next step. But all I could hear were that girls words. “You were born damned for the sake of others salvation”.

The demons that had burnt those homes, killed those people, had been after that girl. They had destroyed so many lives to get to her. I’d say it was a miracle I survived, but after today I hardly believe anything is left to chance. That just made everything worse.

Again, a never ending parade of horror and torture played through my head and the weight of everything took me to my knees. Everything. Everything I had endured. Everything I had done and seen and suffered. All of it was predestined. My fate. I was created to walk through the deepest pits of hell, all so other people could find peace. Peace I would never get to know.

I tried to stop the thoughts, to force myself to breathe, to focus on my heartbeat. But my heart was racing. Not just with fear or desperation. But with anger.

I had never been a good man. But I had tried. Despite everything I had be subjected to I had fought to do what was right, what was good. Often at great loss to myself. I tried with everything I had to be positive and thankful for what I had in my life. I fought to shake off the constant pain in my body, mind and soul. To smile. To be pleasant, no matter what nightmares played in my head. I forgave the crimes against me and moved on. I refused to stand by while others were made victims. It hadn’t been enough.

So I fought harder. I put myself between the worst things mankind has faced. War, disease, famine, monsters, hell….I put myself between the people who damned themselves and the hell they had bought. I carried these souls, forsaken by God himself, from the most remote corners of the deepest dark. And after they were allowed to walk back into the light whole and happy, my sacrifices forgotten, I continued to carry the scars of those battles. Those souls….they couldn’t bare to stand the sight of what I had to be to save them.

And still, I fought on.

“Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster”. I laughed when an angel quoted Nietzsche. I couldn’t laugh when I realized that’s why the angels wouldn’t save these people. And why I could…

I always tried to believe that I was more than what the world saw. But the truth is, without the input of other people, we aren’t really more than the jaded perceptions of a biased mind trying pathetically to view itself.

The world saw me as a monster. So, a monster I became. A monster I would be.

I pushed myself back to my feet, took one more look at the fires and turned away. The flickering shadows cast by the remains of other peoples lives fled before me. The demons wouldn’t stand before me anymore. I had no past left to cast shadows on my future.

I hope they remember me this way. A monster. I hope they remember me this way when they see me walking through the towering flames of their hell, standing against an army of their nightmares. I hope this is how they remember me.

Because this is what they made me. A monster, to fight the monsters.

One Step Forward

It’s surreal, watching your world burn.

I stood in the smoke billowing from the collapsing wreck of my home. Everything I had spent years building was in there.  All my work, memories, pictures and books, movies and clothes. Everything.

And I had set it on fire.

Have you ever felt like everything you’ve spent half a lifetime putting together had collapsed around you, trapping you in a hole you can only escape by leaving it all behind? Yeah, it sucks.

The worst part of it is that so much of it was good. It was the tiniest part that was a problem but I couldn’t move on with those tiny, critical parts and the rest was tied to close. Some of it just couldn’t move.  So I did the only reasonable thing I could. I set it all on fire.

Ok, maybe less than reasonable. But sometimes change requires big steps. Big steps are always hard. And I am fundamentally a creature of perpetual habit. Change is not easy or friendly. But change is what I needed. And so I made sure I couldn’t go back. 

I took a deep breath, let my gaze linger a moment more on the last of my past and then wrapped my duster closer around myself, feeling cold despite the warm summer night. I turned around and stood staring into the darkness, the light from the rising flames casting long shadows into the night before me. It seemed an ominous sign, the demons in the dark.

I smiled ruefully and took my first step away from my old home and into the uncertain dark. My heart was heavy with memories of what I was leaving, but my feet were light.

They say the first step is always the hardest. But after striking the match on my past, that next step was easy. I wonder what that says about me…

Labels and the Impatient World: This is why we’re screwed

I have a lymphatic infection in my jaw so I am doped on lots of pretty drugs. So if there are typos (Spoiler: There are) or serious grammatical errors (Also yes) please forgive me.
This is also a touch long, partly drug induced, and perhaps a touch nonsensical but, I had to confront this today so I’m venting. Feel free to skip over and read the next thing I post which I promise will be less soap-boxy.



One of the biggest things to bug me these days is labels. Ok, so a lot of things bug me. But today, the one that annoyed me the most was labels.

I live in a weird little corner where my personal political, social, and spiritual views don’t fit neatly into a currently defined category. This leaves me in the unique position of having to try in the span of minutes to short hand a belief system that has been developed over a quarter of a century by literally thousands of hours of experiencing life and actively trying to connect with how other people see things. What’s more, it’s just one persons view.

On the short of it I believe people need to be free to be themselves. If everyone involved in any one decision or event is above the age of majority, of sound mind and knowingly, willingly participating…then have at it. Life is to short to spend hundreds of years redefining what other people are allowed to do. If Bob next door wants to dope up and have orgies every weekend, then as long as the orgasmic screams die down by ten, I’m ok.

I get this doesn’t always work. Life is nothing if not grey (gray? Screw you international spell check) lines. But as a rule, if you don’t like it, don’t stare in the persons window. It’s that simple.

And the more I try to understand why people are pissed about things that have nothing to do with them, the more I see it comes to labels. We work so hard to give everyone labels. You are Christian or Atheist, Conservative or Liberal, pro or anti this or that. Everything we are or believe is being cropped down into one or two word titles so that we can “understand” someone’s point of view without actually talking to them.

I get that labels have their place. As a man constantly starving for new knowledge, I appreciate that labels can be useful. It allows you to quickly sum something up without hours of conversation. If we had to completely re-explain the entirety of an idea before being able to address it at all we would never progress because we would all just be saying the same thing over and over. Labels can be good.

But we have two huge problems. First, people forget that a label cannot quickly explain everything a person believes. People are dynamic. They are chaotic, they change and grow and adapt. Even the more closed minded people will evolve over time. And knowing what someone believes without knowing WHY can completely change how it’s perceived.

Second, and honestly the bigger of the two problems, is that when we are still trying to define what we believe we use preexisting labels to explain ourselves to others. And after years and years of doing this, and not getting the chance to truly explain our believes, it becomes easy to just use this inaccurate label. So both sides are no longer trying to see the truth. Now apply this to seven billion unique people with ever adjusting views in an ever shrinking world….the idea of how much we are losing here is staggering.

Someone asked me the other day if I was Wiccan or Warlock. I laughed in their face. Some of you might understand why, but for those who don’t it would be like asking me if I was a Jedi or a Hobbit. In my experience so far the two don’t really exist in the same sphere. But then again, labels.

Anyway, when i stopped laughing, apologized for laughing at them and said no, they wanted to know (apart from why I laughed at them) what I was. Now, I’m being asked to define someone elses labels AND present my whole world view in a few short words in an environment where we aren’t suppose to talk religion or anything controversial. This generally means I just don’t talk, so I really had to work hard.

I tell everyday strangers I’m non-denominational spiritualist. To the people I know better I’m a non-denominational spiritualist sorcerer. I leave out the last part to the general public because crazy is a thing and most people already think I’m that. But it is the best way I can describe who and what I am.

Now, this label doesn’t really tell people much because the words are general (Non-denominational, really?) or they think it’s a joke (Sorcerer? Is that like, a party magician?). But the truth is I am not going to spend the time needed to tell a casual acquaintance in the middle of the work place, with a ever growing crowd (my conversations tend to draw betters on how  long before H.R. shows up with a warning) what two and a half decades of life have taught me about the nature of the undefinable.

In the end, we need labels because they make social and philosophical progress possible. But we cannot continue to use labels as an end all answer to what someone else believes. If you want to judge someone based on their beliefs (and you, sir, are already an ass for wanting to do so) then at least attempt a real conversation.
This rule is waved slightly for politicians and religious leaders. If you are going to intentionally flaunt your beliefs to the world it’s up to you to present a valid reason why. If you aren’t going to explain yourself I reserve the right to judge you harshly with no evidence. You’re on tv. You have been warned.

But for the individual person? Don’t judge based on a few short words used by millions to define their position. And please, think about the labels you use for yourself and for others. Those few short words can forever alter the shape of your world. Choose how you define yourself carefully. It’s how the world will judge you.


Marked (Fiction)

The sigil burned into the flesh of my left hand, eliciting a shout and dance of pain and shocked dissatisfaction.
That was not exactly what was suppose to happen.

I’d just been messing around, thought ‘Hey, what harm could drawing this random group of images on my hand while I’m bored’. Turns out the harm could include seared flesh and the rush of magic binding to me.

As the pain started to die down, my head began to swim. I could feel my energy warping to accommodate the new addition to my being.
Sudden fear ran through me. This simple doodle should not be altering my energy without my permission!

I rubbed my right hand vigorously over my left, hoping to remove the invading symbol, and immediately regretted that as the singed skin screamed.

Now slightly more irritated than afraid, I glared at my hand. Ok, slow down and think. Why would this symbol etch itself onto me without any power being put into it? That’s not how this is suppose to work.

I extended my mind to feel around the now cooling scar to see if there was some unusual innate power to it. And I nearly collapsed. Well…that’s special.
I tried moving energy up my arm to push against the sigil. My hand throbbed and a pressure built at the tips of my fingers.

Ok then. I looked closer at the various symbols involved, trying to remember why they came into my head and why I decided to draw them on myself. They were fairly simple. Nordic rune of binding, a rune for banishing, the rune for Mercurial intelligence. Two circles with lines crossing between the runs. All of it from different sources.

I got bored re-hashing the same old material time and again so I began randomly drawing on the only available material. My hand.

Next thing I know WHOOSH…..magic tat.

The pain and disorientation was mostly faded and a cursory examination of my personal energy didn’t show anything horribly wrong, apart from the new swirl of focus on my hand.

I could almost hear a soft, feminine laugh in the back of my head. Damn…

The Right Thing (Fiction)

I’m tired.

That’s nothing new, seeing as don’t really ever sleep. But this is different. This weariness seems to have settled back into my shriveled little heart. Every breath just seems like more work than it’s worth.
Don’t misunderstand my exhaustion for depression or any dis-interest in life. That’s not it at all. I’ve finally gotten back to appreciating life and what it can offer. It’s just that as soon as I found that again new little problems creep up.

For instance, the homicidal spirit of a deranged sorcerer who I might have had a partial hand in killing stalking through the dreamscape, terrorizing my friends and associates while looking for me.

Or how a new god has suddenly called me and decided that, apart from the devotion I am already offering the last divine overlord that collared me, I should be a part of his fun games.

Or how my fae-born ex-wife is unconsciously assaulting me with pixies.  You know, mostly small stuff. After a while it just wears at you.

Add to that the seer who keeps telling me I have death at my shoulder and the flocks of random strangers deciding I can fix their lives…I just don’t know how much I can give a shit some moments. I’ve spent a lot of years being a selfish bastard, and I’ve tried to work on that. But you can’t quit something like that cold turkey. It has to come in steps. 12 Step. For sociopaths.

And damnit I need an ‘I’m a selfish dick’ day. But sadly pissed off megalomaniacs don’t give you sick days, gods don’t just callback, and the needs of the many damn well let you know how little you matter. And even if I sleep, I have a dead bastard stalking the dreamscape for me. Guess I should get to dreaming. I could kick some ass.


(The above image is here courtesy of google….meaning I don’t own it)

Beloved Pieces (Fictional Rambling)

This isn’t what I expected.

I figured that a real mental break would be accompanied by fear and pain and hysteria. That’s how it always looks in the movies, right? People pushed to the very limits of their ability to endure stress or pain and then a SNAP and they go psycho.

And don’t get me wrong, I have had my fair share of stress and pain. And some of it took me to the edge of what I had endured before. But the result here was rather anti-climatic so far.

Let me back up a bit so you understand. I hear things. Things that aren’t there. Voices in my head that don’t belong to anything but the fears and unresolved trauma that is me. I also hear the spirits of magic. The distinction is a fun one to make most days. But I think I have done a decent job before today.

Oh but today…today was not a good day. It’s not like anything went wrong really. Compared to recent days, this was bliss. My whole life didn’t fall apart around me, no one tried to kill me, I didn’t watch the people I love die or walk away. It was just a day. But damn if it wasn’t a bad one.

The noise in my head was worse than normal. But even that wasn’t as bad as I had been seeing. A little music, a little booze. It was fine.


I always dreamed about being something great. Most people do. But it’s always been central to who I am. A requirement for a life well lived. The voices set that back. I mean, who is going to believe, less look up to, a schizophrenic. But I had it under wraps and I thought I could control them. Guess not.

Then a few words of what should have been good news. A couple of things I already knew resurfacing. One minute of splitting pain….then nothing.

I sit here trying to analyze nothing. It’s not boredom or vacancy. It isn’t apathy. It’s more like transcendence.

I’ve always been a bit conceited. Like, nearly a sociopath. For those of you who don’t live like that, it’s kind of like sitting on a self-established pedestal and looking down at children. You know you are better but you don’t point it out lest the children maul you to death to prove you wrong.

Ok, so maybe my vision of children is a bit skewed, but they do that. Swear to god.

That feeling of superiority is always there, even when I am horribly depressed (which apparently is weird for borderline sociopaths). But this new feeling goes beyond that. I still felt above the trivialities of other people’s problems. But it’s like I didn’t have to be connected to my own either. Like everything was just a puzzle or board game and I could control the pieces.

Somewhere in the back of my mind that seemed to be a bad sign for my mental health, but the part of my mind that had spent two and a half decades watching for ways to fix everything was overwhelmingly happy at getting to rest for a minute so I really didn’t care.

And as I looked down at the various parts of my life I had let fall apart or stagnate, I realized how foolish I had been. All these people who I protected when they didn’t deserve it. All the time I wasted on friends and family and social standing. I could have earned respect by being better. But I had tried to be their equal.

How dare I, a practical god, demean myself to that level. They didn’t deserve my attempts to raise them up. They were beneath me. They were less.

Suddenly I was laughing maniacally in my living room again, the weight of the world settling back into the grooves it has left on my shoulders.

What was that? Was it heaven or hell. While I was there it was bliss. Perfection and the ultimate high. But being back, it had to have been hell. Right?

Perspective is a funny thing. I’m sitting here arguing with my-selves over whether I want to go to hell again or not. One more thing to analyze in my constant battle to stay self aware.

But it can wait. The voices scream as the magic calls. I have beloved chess pieces to save and polish. One more move in one more game. I sure hope I won that move.


So, I have been doing a lot of playing with my blog, so anyone who has been watching might be slightly annoyed at the constantly changing layout of my page.

First, bear with me. I haven’t made an attempt this serious to post regularly anywhere so I am trying to make the blog as appealing as possible while still being functional for everyone.

Second, I can be a touch indecisive. So I may try something for a few days and then change it just to change it back.

Hopefully I can settle on something without to much chaos, but until then I hope you will be tolerant and just enjoy the writing. At present I have included a Categories wiget on the right so you can jump sections at will. This should make organizing a bit easier for me, and navigating better for you! You’re welcome.

Thank you for your patience, and continue enjoying!

Underneath the Mask

This world is full of twisted fate
that burns and stabs and makes me ache
and fills my dark soul as I quake
in forbidden lust for thee

With every step and breath and thought
my mind goes where it ought not
and fills with glorious immoral rot
that’s taking hold of me

I can’t imagine any poison sweeter
then this dark and oozing ether
that rends my heart and soul beneath her
in the treachery I’ve sought

I hide behind a pleasant smile
my pulse racing all the while
for obscenity so rare and wild
and pray that I’m not caught

For my being is never more complete
then when I indulge the darkness sweet
and taste the blood that I do reap
in blissful misery

I reveal the tools once hidden
give in to impulse once forbidden
cross a line so far unwritten
in worship unto thee

I feel the sensation of falling
as across that line I’m crawling
ever near and so foreboding
in testaments I speak

Morals that I have forsaken
in my need for release taken
one with this my mind is breaking
and at last I’m free
to truly just be me