I pick up my pen and paper to write, but my head is blank, empty of words. Blank like a clean lonely slate that will never know the pleasure of words written on it for company, empty like the hollowness of nothing. I feel like a soul still searching for purpose and meaning and finding none, begins to believe anything that offers even the smallest succour, that offers a way out even if it's the wrong way out. I stare at th...

where is he?my friend, my lover.my hypnos, my somnus.my nocturnal friend,who always came at night,and left at dawn like a vampire.every night I opened myself to him,and without fail he always came.I never had to go searching.I never had to shout out his name,he always came.telepathy at work perhaps?there were nights he came,like a thief in the night.and there were days,he knocked at the door to myself.the door I always ke...

please, don't tell me your lies,for your lies no longer work.I can smell,the rotten stench of the lies,from your lips,stench no perfume can mask.broken, shattered and scattered,lies the charm,that once blinded me to your lies.now your lies,stripped of false clothing,stand naked before me.now I see your lies,as clear as daylight.so keep your lies to your lies.