Bleeding Ink #1,477

Some years ask questions

Some years ask for sacrifice

Hold on now, the truth is coming in


Like the tide now,

Some water is deeper

Some hearts are stone

Sunlight is easy

When it’s on her face

Sometimes your city

Burns before your eyes


Some years ask questions

There’s a kid with batteries

He’s playing Star Trek

Red on black

Black on gold

He doesn’t know he’s poor

He just knows he’s happy

When the sun goes down


I’ve carried this darkness

Since before my father died

I was there that night

I read his old letters

I cast his demons aside

Some questions get answered

Some you just have to lay down


I still see this darkness

I know it will take me

It’s just a matter of when

Some things I won’t understand

But we all are running out of time

I just keep laying words down


They said they found him

With two shotgun shells

Some things are too too heavy

I stood there asking

Was it the darkness

Or was it his heart?

Sometimes you’re happy

And lady

When you smile….

Half of me is sun

Half of me is moon

I learned to live with this darkness

Some days are nightfall

Some days you just have to look for the light


Some years….

Some years

Lady you’re a free girl now

You just keep walking

You’ll make it

A pocketful of questions

A handful of stones that you lay down….

The moon Queen

They say, she left her heart open, in the rain…

Every Tuesday

She would pick her flowers

And write her songs

No one knows much about her

What she really thought

How she felt about things

They only remember her sadness and her tragedy

I like to think

I know what she felt,

Some nights

At 3am

I can hear her playing the piano

Its music fills the halls upstairs

Some nights

When the moon is full

And melancholy

You can see her window open

Her wide, deep, dark eyes

And her blue dress

Sometimes it’s white

But she’s only there for a minute

And then she’s gone

You might see her at the top of the stairs

Or entering someone’s room

Trying to find something she’s left behind

I’ve seen some of her paintings

Some of her sketches

And heard her songs

I think I know what it must have felt like

To be filled so full

And not know

How to express it

To feel so alone

Like an outsider

Maybe she’s still trying to work it out….

They say

You feel the fear

And the terror

If you see her face though

The pain of dying

The air turns cold

I don’t believe it

I think you see the emptiness inside of yourself

No one knows what really happened to her

Her letters

Still show up under my door

That’s when I find her paintings

Inside empty rooms

Sometimes they’re in the park

I’ve seen her walking

When the moon is full

And the fog is down,

I don’t know why she talks to me

Maybe it’s because we are both alone

Filled with things to say

And unsure of how to say them

Maybe it never goes away

Maybe it doesn’t ever let go,

Maybe we just keep on trying

Even after we’re gone….

I don’t know her name

I only call her the moon queen….

Bleeding Ink #1030


5,611 days

Inside a house with empty rooms 

Without a view 

There’s no colour here 

I can’t breathe here 

I can only see grey 

I try to speak 

But my tongue is cut 

There’s a chair 

My hands are open 

A book

the pages  whited out

A typewriter 

The letters scratched out 

A pen 

Without ink

What is this weight 

What is this rope 

What is this room

The world is paper thin 

Waiting for the rain to come in 

Censor censor 



I don’t know the ghost inside myself 

I left sometime ago 



Stranger Things

I woke up  

Staring at

The darkness




Inside this page

I felt the future

Falling like

An endangered species

Will we finish this race?

I don’t want

To be the one

That hurts you

With words


And unsaid

They say the

most dangerous poison

is the secrets we keep


We leave it all out to bleed

On the butchers floor

How many prayers

How many lives

How much time

In this witch hunt

There’s a parting in us

The smoke inside the ashes

From those we burned

I woke knowing
The future was yours

And we’ll go down


The blood from

Our own tongues



The stains 

This floor

This blank page

This black room

The echo of stars

Filling this empty space

The bitter tomorrow 

Coming in like blood in the tide 

It can’t wash out 

We’ve opened the door

We won’t escape what we’ve become 

And we can’t wash out 

What we’ve shown the world 

We can’t go back.


It’s coming …

It’s almost here. Just in case you thought I forgot about it…I’ve been working on it all year. 

I’m talking about Haunted October.  All month long I post short horror stories and poems. I like summer just as much as the next person. But I am passionate about October. 

I also want to add. 

I have updated my About Me page. 

I know I write dark things humorously sometimes. But I want you to know, I care deeply about Mental and Emotional health. 

If you are ever here and you laugh from something you’ve read. I count this a success. I want to write things so you can relax and escape. The real world doesn’t always have to apply. You can do anything with fiction. You can make your own rules. Your own endings. Batman doesn’t have to face Superman. What if he faces Wolverine instead? 

If you’re ever on here and you’re struggling with anxiety,depression,thoughts of self harm or helplessness, It’s ok. There’s a link in my About Me page. and it’s always  There . 

Also…as you know, I write about my good friend Simon. If you want to look into adopting shelter pets. There’s always a Link for that too in my About Me page. 

Thank you all for your support and for sticking with me for these few years. 

You. Are. Awesome. And beautiful people. 

Take care. 

I’ll be seeing you. 




“Stand still like the humming bird.”- Henry Miller

Everyone deserves a safe place. Some say that place should never be another person. Some say you can chase it across the universe. Some say we are continually anchored in the present,even as we move forward. 
But what if,that place,wasn’t even inside of us? What if -the voice within ourselves-couldn’t even be trusted?.

That’s mental health. That’s anxiety,depression. Whatever. 

I am not a Doctor. 

But I can say. Regardless of the stigma, the bias,be good. Be good to you. 

At times it can feel like waves. At times it can be gray. 

But there is always a light. 

Look for the light. The light inside of yourself. 

Maybe it’s spiritual, maybe it’s physical,maybe it’s both. 

Whichever side of the coin you call…

It’s in the air spinning. 

Remove the stigma and talk about it. 

We use over 90% of the worlds pharmaceuticals….

And we still can’t communicate. 

Walk gently, within yourself. Walk gently with others. 
You were meant to be whole. Not perfect. But whole. With all of your flaws. And all of your fears.Whole.

Be good. Be good. Be you. 

Because there is not another one like you. Not on this side of the sun.

You have a light,that is entirely unique to you. You have more atoms in your eye than stars in the known universe…

Don’t let the gray days be who you are.

The moon interacts with the sun and the earth mutually. So there is always a dark side to the moon… And there is always light…

Don’t you dare let the darkness define you…

You have the depths of the oceans…

You have the strength of the morning 

You have hosts of others 

Not only in the heavens watching 

But in your bloodline 

Fighting …fighting…championing for you. 

It’s ok. It’s ok to talk about it. It’s ok to free yourself. It’s ok to trust and respect yourself. 

For more info on mental health

chasing yesterday 

See it in the way,you take on the end of the day.

You can’t shake the shadows,when they fall across your eyes.

You won’t be the middle man.

Spent the day,Watching another hit parade.

Someone  said God was coming back.I talked to him on the telephone,the sand is gone from the hour-glass,but we’ve all got time for that…

The more that you want it.

The more that you take it 

The morning takes away your youth and grace 

But the soul still burns the night 

And the girl,still has those x-ray eyes 

And you can dance,chasing all our yesterdays

And I’m only breathing in a new religion-writing out a new revolution


It feels like
A blank space of broad distance
Inside eternity’s chapel
you feel ok
But then
One day
it’s there again
just a small ache
A tremble in your hand
As you brush your teeth
A small dip in your stomach
A vacuum of sadness
This worries you
And you don’t know
If you will ever be ok…

Photo origin unknown


photo origin
Your favourite thing
Was words;
You always told me
To tear down
My walls…
But I wasn’t
Really listening
(It’s hard to hear
When you’ve got it figured out)

Loss changes us ….
It’s vivid …
The brevity of time
Can be seen
Frail and flawed
I’m just a millennial
I assumed we …
Would live forever
Or at least until
The world ends
But for
All I “knew”
And all I was “entitled to”
I didn’t know
About time …
About a pill in a bottle
A bullet in a gun
Or a chemical reaction
Called epilepsy
These things had never
Had anyone’s name on them…

Loss Changes us…
And now
I have a lot of words
I didn’t get to use.

But I finally wrote this one down
I took down my walls
And I started to live…