Current Projects

Recently I have been drawing a lot, working on figuring out my style. It has definitely evolved since I started and I am really starting to enjoy it. Above are a few “heads” I drew, fairly odd and that is how I like it. I will try to post them as I make them, Enjoy




Meaningful Entrapment of A Hopeful Composition


Thoughts of illiterate desire delude my attentions constantly, rewriting my intentions and stranding continuity. The plain writings of my past make me lose sight of a greater goal where I have found solidified love a necessity. Which is something I have yet to find sadly, but within a mash of allure I adopt devotion in the ideas of time. What I have found though is hope, which was something I lacked for quite a long time. Hope that I will one day attract something greater than my feeble will and polarize my past desires. For life truly allows for very little unless meaning is constructed and nurtured towards the end goal of true devotion. Maybe I am being a daft romantic, but the idea of non traditional monogamy truly seems ideal to me. Having someone to depend upon and  someone who you grant complete and utter trust to. A person who you can cry to without  fear of malicious judgment, and provide comfort before the waves crash down.

Placing hope in chance is all I can do for investment in uncertainties will undoubtedly destroy the hope that I have fostered. Although I may seem strong or solid, I am not, my sanity resides upon a crack filled floor housed above an eternal void of instability. If I neglect repair and decide to abuse I am sure that my shaky base will crumble and my undivided beliefs will be forgotten. I am lost at sea and need to find a decided shore that will accept and understand my refuse.


One of the things that most upsets me is when a misinformed says I am doing well or says that they are so glad that I got well. As if they fucking know what I go through every day, the struggles of belief and restless needs. I send attention towards release and overt loss, for there are many days where I relapse to a time when I longed for darkness, when I needed the stark silence of death. These times harken up ideas that I need solidarity in order to hide my corpulent composition.

What I mean to say(in short) is that many believe that my depression has faded, but they fail to realize how encompassing it all truly is. My intellectual flaws are something that I must endure every single day and telling me to release hope is more destructive than any may know. I do not know where I will fall and flail, but in this moment it is certain that hope is my greatest drive and concurrent weakness. It leaves me open to erosion and delusion, and similarly also allows happiness and meaningful desire passage. Unrelenting muster may be my greatest achievement thus far. Disallowing inherent opposition I attempt,


Nurtured Beliefs of Desperate Angles

Left for meaning the poor desire was eluded,
Fondled and twisted by outside forces,
They were told of an unlikely recovery,
So without a care it began,
She rewound time upon the stars,
And realized the true meaning of concise devotion,
Unbeknownst to the majority it was conceded,
This single illusion carried out by the many,
And the few who seek punctual solidarity,
Were released to the frigid grasp of death,
Combusted fumes leak from their corpses,
Driven to exhaustion by depth of consciousness,
Philosophers knew little of what she pursued,
For they deluded into a loss of ambition,
Meaning not to destroy,
Lost within a singularity,
She searched,
And hoped,
And waited.

Constant Attention Directed to Arrogance

So this morning I decided to try my hand at true poetry and I must admit I quite like what I birthed. A little too odd and maybe a little too obscure it avoided my fondness, but after closer inspection I did begin to enjoy it. Think of it what you will, but if you have any ideas just leave a comment. I hope you are able to immerse yourself in them. My condolences,



Interstellar Loss
Dreary love morphed,
Into something lesser,
Gone to the ash of past labours,
Of honour he had little,
Weariness enveloped,
He succumbed to the allure of death,
Flowing life eternally longing
Searching for a fleeting moment,
Of the happiness he will never know.

Focus Allotted to Shallow Pleas
Depleted bones of morrow,
Sound in structure and discernment,
For little opposed,
Clouds of poor judgment shrouded reason,
Unwittingly thrown below,
Wrought by obscenities condemned,
All faded save for his devotion,
To a cause against life,
To strong were the forces of treachery,
Before the occurrence of creation,
Back into the void,
Subtle edges avoided,
Black faded out of view,
Till nothing remained solitary or confined.

Fostered by Fear for Vanity Gained


His daft misogynistic statements alarmed. Flowing into the folds of her being they were relentless and unequivocally devoted. Raising parts once lost of deteriorated ideas and memories of an uneasy past. The woman had forgotten them long ago but he wanted her to remember, he came to force severance within her. The harsh reality of it all was too much for her to handle with reprise. Turned over and observed above her he stood crooked. His guilty shadow falling across her body, caressing the cracks in the floor and the curves of the woman’s sides. Blank was his face and devoid of expression it existed. She thought it was over, the bliss and supposed happiness she had religiously pondered. The mere recognition of his face wrought a torrent of emotion upon her feeble frame.

He reached below and grasped her worn hands. She was crying bloody tears. Unable to delude herself any longer she rose to into his sight. He barely recognized her now, once of a tall confident posture she was bent and marred. She used to carry blue eyes but now all he saw was the white of her scars. Her skin was peeling; translucent beneath, it flailed down onto the cold cement base.

Unable to maintain stout composure he fell down to his bloody knees and sobbed. As a brother he cried for what he had lost and the disease he had approved. Believing what she had done to herself was his own intent was the cause of infinite guilt and regret. He had condoned the unforgivable, but she looked through his eyes right into his purple heart and it all came back. The pain flowed through her, collapsing everything she had built and the life she had been living.  All lies translucent now as they had once been. They sat there for hours unable to feel the joy of being united, the two synonymously overcome with guilt for their inscribed retention of detail.

The passage of idle time quelled the storm, subtly eluded and to be dealt with at a later date. He was propped against the flaking wall, crumpled in a position fit only for a corpse . He raised his dreary gaze and was met with a view of her open eyes, now as blue as memory framed. That moment they succumbed, no past shall dictate action for it did not matter. They were brought together as a whole of irregular proportions and stride. All else irrelevant the universe faded away. She stood and he soon followed upright. Shedding their broken souls the two evaded consumption and fled into the milky unknown.

Emptied Intrusions of Hope


Truly elusive are the answers that we as humans seek, for absolutely nothing in our reality is for sure except our own perceived occurrences. I have had troubles with mild visual and auditory hallucinations since I was small. Mostly consisting of shadows as knocks but have at times they have grown to proportions of indescribable size. I was in a very bad place a few years back and during that time I was experimenting with antidepressants (something I strongly recommend against) which made the illusions impossible to decipher. Pragmatism was made relatively impossible and it severely impeded my ability to function.

After I halted my use of drugs the hallucinations began to occur on fewer occasions and with a reduced severity. This really helped to mediate and allowed for a shift in focus towards more mundane tasks compared to attacking delusion. To this day still I experience oddities and glimpses into my past which seem to coincide with my lapses of intellect. I have a tendency to allocate my resources wholly towards introspection which sadly leads to the resurgence of spectres. None of harm but of brawn and little thought towards outlying attention. Overall though most of the time it is barely of notice and expression removes any harm that might have been caused.

Along the line of hallucinations is dissociation. I experience this very often but I would not consider it to be overtly harmful, honestly I see it as an inefficient coping mechanism. If you don’t know, dissociation is when you enter a dreamlike state; of detachment from reality. I seem to do it whenever I am burdened by stress or sadness. If in a feel of depression I will over think and end up deluding myself to the brink writ. Its at this point when I will dissociate for a while and often times end up asleep or in a flurry of creative expression. Neither cause injury so tend to embrace the recollection if my mind.

I’m awfully tired this hour so writing much of substance is a difficult endeavor. I will bid farewell here and leave you to read a piece I wrote about dissociation. View retention of morbid thoughts as an orphaned mare, yours truly


Illusions of a Bright an Burdened Soul

Focused on a single arbitrary point of lapsing force, wandering upon stolen ruin the animal was to be marooned. Shifted force upon level judgments alluded to the wry mind of the fish. Slippery and shaded she wrought fury upon the gates of illusion. Nothing budged nor even bothered to look, it was relentless erosion by a void of emotion. Lacking substance,  it consumed until darkness faded into view. Engulfing thought and clear discernment, maniacal emptiness pursued by my intent.