2:48 am

My most productive time is the darkest reaches of night

When the souls of the world have ceased to wake 

The life of what would be spent is channeled through my mind’s eye

And onto the pages which no one will see

I need the night as the wolf needs the moon

To howl in silence and show my mind it’s still alive

This is why a daily routine was never my habitat 

It imprisons me from my dark love 

Within the confines of 18 hour days

And brief nightmarish exhaustive rest 

Only in these times do I feel the light of joy

Betwixt the words which appear from the chasms of the night

From my own psyche 

The truth is out there

I know life exists beyond this

From the words that find their way on to the page

The dark is the only God I’ll ever need

I pray with my verbal ejaculation 

Meaning nothing and everything to me 

In their paradoxical wonder

deadpunk666:

Thanks to the mrs I’ve finally got a picture of my tattoo. So here ya go 

deadpunk666:

Thanks to the mrs I’ve finally got a picture of my tattoo. So here ya go 

McLaren and Rotten 1976
If looks could kill…

McLaren and Rotten 1976

If looks could kill…

Part of me likes that my favorite poems are the one’s no one likes and the ones they do like I randomly pull out my arse before I fall asleep

My Leather Armor

My jacket is both my Armour and weapon to the world

It guards me from their looks and defends me with judgement

With a single look they know who I am

They know to avoid me at all costs

My jacket is my extension of I

I wear it to become myself

Adding a spring in my step and a spike to my hair

I grow into the star shinning in the darkness of self doubt

I am the world

And I will end any fucker that fucks with me

Caffeinated Dreams

I start my life with coffee

So I don’t have to sleep 

For sleep is escapism

And I escape into my head enough

If I had my way I would spend eternity in a corner

In a corner of some seedy cafe

With a jukebox on repeat 

Coffee and tobacco on order

Note book in front of me 

Writing tales of every life I could of had

Righting every wrong in retrospect 

Learning how to live true perfection

Smiling at my own creative genius

But refusing to actually live it

No I shall remain in my bubble 

Living a dream of my own confines

My only contact shall be the observation of others

Or the many books I shall have delivered to me

I will smile as I always did

Imagining the interactions which would never occur

But again marveling at my genius

Of how brilliant it would have been

This is the only dream I need

I do not wish to sleep

For any heaven would be anti climatic compared to that

Old Friends

I don’t trust my heart

It’s almost killed me twice now

I don’t trust my eyes

They’ve caused me to stumble in the dark to often

I don’t trust my head

It’s too crowded to hear myself think

I don’t trust my feet

They have lead me only to anti climax

Tip of the Tongue

Your name feels strange to utter

As if it where from another tongue

A boy much younger than I

Unaware of what it is that will come

And the time

Which will add the sweetness to new names

Wondered

Tonight I looked into the past

And wondered

Did you mean it?

And wondered

Would we have been if nations ceased to be

And I will wonder on

Language of Images

For weeks my language has become a collage of images

Collected and collated 

Arranged in a given manner of coherency

These photos tell what I could never

They join together to illustrate

A mind burdened with emotions

My mind is heavy with them

They fill the tears which fall upon the page

And spill the ink before it has fallen itself

Diluting it

Clearing in a transparency of refusal

They do not come

Only are heard in silence

I take photos instead

A road sign at least

To a man in despair 

Haunting

I find it strange to walk these streets

It is is as if staring behind the reflection of a mirror

Seeing myself but only within the celluloid fragments of past transgressions

I am myself

But also the others who have become me

The streets echo with the multiple ghosts of then

Simultaneously I am bombarded by their haunting

10, 15, 18, 12, 21,

I am all and nothing at once

My heart beats for now and the loves that are no more

I see the present for what it truly is

What will be no more

But the streets will remain the same

Haunting others who return with their own ghosts 

Today felt like a day to dress as Sherlock for no apparent reason

I think this essay is driving me insane

The Self Detective

My detective skills are sub par at best

I solve the basic cases of the day to day

Where I shall dine

How to find the nearest caffeine depository 

How I scour the hours for ways to avoid actual work

But there is one case that still alludes me

With 22 hours still on the job

The clues fail to add up

The lines lead to false conclusions

The answer is clear one moment

And scrapped the next

I often wonder if this is the game

That is played until that last moment

You search for the inner meaning

Only to be disappointed time and time again

Like the old retired gumshoe

It keeps me awake at night

A list of false leads and witness in memory

Make the snake eating its own tail

Ouroboros

Who is Robin?   

Will I never know?

Elementary season 1 “The Red Team.”

People of Tumblr, does anyone know any films similar to Her to watch?

I want a cute indie romance film to watch to relax me before I go to sleep