I am losing my grip on reality It slips through my fingers Like dry sand Like memories of who I once was And I cry out in the darkness But God is not listening  And I feel myself a fool to speak to the air My bones ache My muscles…

I started too late To find my voice Age has made me A slave To everyone But myself

A special note for both followers of my sister site, becomingsanta.net, after years of neglect that site has been taken down for a massive reboot. Hopefully, sometime before I expire the site will, like the legendary pheonix, Fawkes, rise from the ashes with a new purpose that appeals to at…

Love is as much about pain as passion, loss as lust. For the hope of keeping it, lovers sometimes sacrifice all.

The secrets in your headRemain there foreverArchivedSome agedObsoleteUselessLike youYet you remain trueTo the covenantNever to reveal themNever to open the vault doorAnd let the sun shine inYou are the caretaker of secretsAnd sometimes youEnter the vault of your yesterdaysTo consider what you have seenTo ponder and analyzeAnd wonder if what…

Lunch among the dead.

Life isn’t hopes and prayers, but dark endless futile struggle for survival on an unforgiving sea of hopelessness. And that’s the good part

Our stories are what make us human. Embrace your stories and share them.

Sometimes friendship defies our ability to understand why.

I saw a post that tried to describe what horror was and I had to answer it.