September.

So here I stand, staring down
the edge of September and
watching where old loyalties lie.
What step I take next will

Determine how I fall and if
I'm caught in mid-air. I've
returned to an utter state of
confusion with a dazed dose

Of insanity. The lines that
draw me start to fade with
a fleeting glimpse of what
was once my future.

The cries that escape my
throat do not voice the way
I am truly falling apart
within this old shell of a heart.

Toe-curls and nervous
lip-bites don't give away
the panic ensuing, rising
like a thermometer in here.

So here I stand, staring down
the edge of September and
watching where old loyalties lie.
I can't find myself anymore.

Mutual.

Let’s fall apart in each other’s arms. I’ll let my weaknesses show and I’ll crack in the knees. I’ll just tear apart at my seams and unravel to the floor. Don’t worry about the romantics of it all, I only need an hour of your time and a place to light up. Baby, you have the power to take everything I have and leave it in ruin. It’s hard to have everything to myself when I can’t even stand on both legs. What am I to you? Just another hospital trip and a week of sleepless nights. What are you to me? An inspirational story of a downfall and a playlist of sad songs. It’s a constant adrenaline rush and a nonstop thrill of the chase. And we can’t stop now because we’ve already started again…


(Happy New Year!! 2011)

You'll get what you deserve.

Karma's got me in a chokehold, and I'm about to fight back. But now I'm caught in a battle with myself with no sign of relief. Now the air has drifted out of my lungs and I'm floating on a comatose breath. I can see everything before my eyes, but there's nothing I can touch. Nothing but a shattered shiver and a crumbling cry resonates from my withered hands.

My cracked voice shakes out one last effort before evading me forever. It's a little slice of what I deserve, unable to defend myself or destroy the chains that bind me. I am an executioner of worlds, a swallower of dreams, and a butcher of loves. These sinned hands may smother out the lives of my enemies but know not of the aches the others feel in their hearts.

Three strikes and you're out, well, this must be my fifth offense. Perhaps a sixth or ninth. I've lost track of all the crimes of which my conscience does not know. Maybe it will take a hailstorm or a hellhound to hammer me into submission. I don't know, but I've got myself a problem here: to rouse my heart and inflate my lungs. Maybe I'm regretting my decisions, or maybe I'm just conspiring my next plan of action.

There's a first for everything...

Why have I never posted any of my writing on here? It's pretty much the only creative work of mine that I'm actually proud of. Admittedly, I used to hate poetry, mostly because I didn't understand it. But now it has a nice, warm place in my heart.


This is all for a school project. I'd say more, but I know of some people who have the same assignment, and I don't want my ideas stolen. ;) I'll talk more about this project after it's finished.

All of these are little quotes from original poems/blurbs that I've written.

Sometime I'll post an actual poem or two. Preferably a new one, so that I don't resort to dragging out the old stuff.


I'm currently brainstorming for an animation idea I have. It was triggered on my way home from work, while listening to Immi's Speak For Yourself CD.
I'm probably going to work around "Clear The Area."


I'm also working on coming up with some new OCs. I realized some time ago that all the OCs I ever had, I never draw anymore. Nor do I really like them as much as I used to. So I'm trying to come up with some new ones that, hopefully, I'll draw more often.