Author Archives: sam

Only Wish I Had Amnesia

I only wish I had amnesia. I only wish I could forget. Locked away inside a vault but not forgotten, never forgotten. The banging on the door, the inhumanness that emanates from Behind… I can’t escape. I can’t leave. This is my castle. And I am besieged. Invaders at the gate, foul beasts bring about their war machines. My men fortify the doors and knock their ladders from the walls but we all know that one day these walls will fall. Perhaps I’ll let my monsters out to tear apart the their kin.

Is There Anyone Out There?

Where to again?

Where would you have me go?

“You know I’d do anything for you, my love”

Split between a thousand paths

Some fork in the road, yeah?

Lost again

I’m off the trail

They’ll never find me now

I forgot to tell a friend

I walk again through these woods

Birds ever so softly chirping in their trees

Finding a distinct lack of bees

It only hurts a little more without you here

A feeling in my chest like a submarine out of power, stuck a thousand leagues under the sea

Crushed and broken

Spent my last token

My submarine in pieces

I too lie crushed and broken

Torn apart by sharks and crabs and angler fish

I am forgotten under the sea

May they never find my body

I’d rather they not see

What’s really happened to me

An Honest Day’s Work

What is an honest day’s work? Certainly not what happens here. It all feels so hollow. So… inconsequential. Nothing really happens here. Numbers go up, numbers go down. Meetings all day, every day. Nothing really changes. Same thing. Day in, day out. Sit at a desk. Walk to get coffee. Back to the desk. Maybe take a vacation at the end of the year. Go to Bali or Cancun. Whatever. No adventures, no quests, no treks. Back to the office, back home, clacking keyboards and haughty metronomes. A building full of cardboard cutouts that never seem to wither or fold. All oblivious to the pain that lies underneath a thin veneer of niceties and falsehoods told and retold until hearts give out and cubicles are emptied.

Faring Not So Well

Almost as if

The feeling itself

That being numb

It might be better

But whether it’s the former or the latter

Here I sit

Dreaming of forgotten malls

And Taj Mahals

Wishing I could feel something other than the one that gnaws

At my heart

At my bones

On my mind

And on my toes

Can you hear them?

Can you feel them?

Phantoms and spectres

Invisible

Screaming

Begging

My heart, it begs the question:

“Love me?”

Do You Kiss First?

How much for a kiss? How much do you love me, love? I have so much to do and yet? I do not do it. I am tired. I am not so sad but I am tired. It is a Tuesday through and through. Maybe the worst day of the week. Somehow, I do not find myself having a bad day. Just a boring day. Surely, you understand. “No I do not and don’t call me Shirley.”

California Vineyard

Creases trace lips 

like cracks

In an ancient oaken barrel

Aging that smile

Like a fine wine

I never quite get tired

To see you so inspired

That glitter in your eyes

And little joking sighs

Hard enough to be apart

But always want to be a part

Of you and we 

And this and us

Red lips

Sweet wine

Drink again

And find the time

Ever The Romantic

Somehow, I manage to retain my ability to see the world in rose-colored glasses no matter the circumstances. I look up through the clouds and see the stars shining just so brightly that I am basked in the faintest of lights. A world in which the problems I face are but a bump on a road to something greater. Gotta keep looking forward, that’s where your eyes face.

My Heart In California

There I am

Heart in the sand

In California where I wish I could stand

Smell the sea

And hear the gulls

Ships passing by, so many hulls

Cliffs by the ocean

Penguins in the spring

The queerest little notion

Perhaps you’d like this ring?

Hear wedding bells

Adorned in seashells

Listen to what the wind tells

That golden, shining bridge

Spied from a ridge

I think that’s where I’d like to be with you

What A Day To Wake Up

Not hungover, not particularly in shambles or anything of the sort. Simply feeling rotten and worried about the many things you’re under pressure to do and be a part of. The many thoughts and feelings you have that you so desperately try to repress. It doesn’t help to bottle it up. It helps to let it go. Try not to shake the bottle though, lest the contents explode. That would make a mess.

Sure to be Dying

Roiling, riling, writhing in my gut

A pit’s been dug, just for the bodies

Found myself in quite the rut

They’ll find me, they’ll find you

Always searching, one and two

Always looking for something new,

Something evil to do

Sick to my stomach

Try to find that thing I still lack

It feels like flying

Though we’re sure to be dying

It hurts like hell

As bloated midsection swells

Ain’t it swell?

The stories of great evil that it tells