I’m full of static energy, my mind racing from the electricity you sent coursing through my veins.
I can feel it to my very core, with the nerves that connect with the sensation of touch, the remnants of what you left behind, a surge that sets me on edge.

With every look, I feel my heart beat even faster, the clichéd butterflies in my stomach still aflutter after all this time.
I cannot remember what it was like before you came, or rather I don’t think I want to because I know that I am not the same person, the change nothing short of extraordinary. 

Despite all that we have been through, I cannot imagine myself without you in my life, for I do not wish to relive those months of estrangement, a matter that rests coldly in the recesses of my mind never to see the light of day.
Regardless of any imperfections, the oddities and uniqueness that bring us together, make our hearts beat as one, I cannot imagine myself with anyone else for you are my dominate. 

Your touch will forever set my skin ablaze. 

© Copyright October 2016


In the state of a perpetual high, I feel nothing at all.
My mouth went numb the minute I bit into your light blue surface, releasing a force that could be felt all the way down in Hell.
Pieces of you washed down with whatever caffeinated liquid I have at my disposal, your healing power almost supernatural. 

I felt this kind of presence before, only encapsulated and about half the speed, not reaching its destination as quickly as expected (and desperately wanted).
Like so many times before, I cannot imagine enduring the cramping spasms brought on by this teenage disease without your everlasting relief and guidance.
With said relief, however, comes the occasional question of how long will I need you, how long before I become immune to your charms? 

Thank Lucifer I have you and the power of this paper and pen. 

© Copyright October 2016


You dominated my walks home, breathing a soothing solace into the chaos that surrounded me.
You burrowed your way into the Summer months, thrusting your beautiful beats, your sensuous words into the forefront of my mind.

You graced me with your presence in my darkest hours, when I thought it to be impossible to carry on any longer, when all hope seemed to evaporate before my very eyes.
You seized my imagination, my creative drive, and cast it in the most spectacular light, reassuring me forevermore that this is the reason Lucifer put me on this Earth, saving my life a thousand times over. 

You forced your way into the darkest recesses of my soul, awakening a passionate lust for another’s domination, a whole new way of loving.
You inched your way across my spine, opening my eyes to the limits that can be pushed, the blood that can be shed and the bruises that can be felt, inflicted in the utmost confidence and trust. 

You set my heart aflutter upon meeting you in the flesh, and despite the black Sharpie on black leather, words cannot express the ecstatic joy and gratefulness.
You calmed my nerves (while also setting them ablaze with excitement) upon seeing you in all your glory, making lascivious one of my favorite words forevermore. 

The movement that you’ve started and everything it encapsulates is a thing of beauty, an evolutionary feat that will shape this culture of despicable hate into one of enlightenment and open-mindedness.
Shattered are all notions of the norm, for it is the unique and the blaspheme that shall reign.
This movement and everything it encapsulates is a thing of beauty, an evolutionary feat that I am more than happy to be a part of. 

This is where it begins. 

© Copyright October 2016 


It’s the loneliness of early morning, the empty hours suspended in what feels like days.
That is when it will come creeping back, crawling at the very base of your spine. 

The raw nerve feeling, the reminder that will always be there, whether you feel it constricting or not.
It’s the dull ache, the dull ache that can turn into the cruel twist, like that of a meat grinder, at any moment.

It will turn you into a breaker of hearts, a killer draped in flesh.
It will turn you into a walking ghost, a murderer drenched in pain. 

The consequence of your isolation is deafening. 

© Copyright September 2016/October 2016

Halloween Forevermore 

On the edge of the night is where we ride.
With our makeshift masks and costumed clothes we travel amongst the living, candles burning in the windows to cast a shadow.
In the company of nine is how we roam, but in the drifting dawn, our last member cannot be found. 

His voice from afar coaxes us to help find him for it is to the glowing tree shall he lead.
Burning in all its glory, it is truly a spectacle to behold.
Inside and underneath the house that dwells on that same spot of land, a man of mysterious secrets lends his assistance, for it is he who knows the way. 

Disassembled and reconstructed, we are transported to where it all began, where this season and all it exudes can be traced.
Among the great pyramids and tombs of old and on through the dusk of Ireland, Salem and Transylvania, we begin to grasp the magic and subtle horror of its origin, one that is not for the faint of heart.
The Day Of The Dead greets us with mystery and amazement, for we have made it across history, across time and space in a single evening. 

Our comrade, the greatest one of them all, had called out to us from a distance, always somehow within earshot but never within reach.
It is this stop, the final one of this sacred night, where he finally makes an appearance.
To retrieve him however, there is but a price to pay, the sacrifice of a year of our lives in order to save his. 

Being rather clever on the cusp of thirteen, all eight of us take the plunge, for what is the loss of one year but the opportunity to live a more fulfilling life?
The greatest one of our group is safe and sound, out of harm’s way, while we find ourselves back at his doorstep as if nothing ever happened.
From the open doorway, we learn of the brief ailment that almost kept him from his favorite holiday, for he was never trapped somewhere far beyond the imagination but rather the hospital with a nearly ruptured appendix. 

This night of Halloween, Samhain, All Hallow’s Eve, the countless names given throughout the centuries, has just begun despite the surreal passage of time.
We, the nine, the boys that will forever remember this as the best night of our youth, roam throughout this town with a renewed sense of self and of friendship, for we shall be this way until the breath leaves our lungs for good. 

We shall be united forevermore. 

© Copyright October 2016 

Teenage Disease

There are demonic hands digging deep into my stomach, gripping with a hate so strong.
I can feel their fingers twisting and turning my intestines, binding them to that sadistic roller coaster for yet another ride, a feeling I thought would never plague me again. 

A disease that circulated so helplessly throughout my teenage veins, its origin and everything it stood for still foreign and unattainable.
Its brief absence something of a godsend (too bad God turned his back), even as I travel pass the gates of Hell his presence cannot be found, for it was never there to begin with. 

I have lived with you for six years and yet I cannot help but flinch at your touch, something I know will never truly subside, the very though of spending the rest of my days with you only tightens my insides even more.
Despite everything you are, all the pain you have caused and all you have yet to bring, I would not have it any other way for you have taught me to be strong where others may have faltered, a lesson I know I could not thank you enough for. 

The external is nothing compared to the internal. 

© Copyright October 2016