There is a language


between the words we speak,


our lips,

there is a truth in the


between the words we speak,


our skin,

there is a plane where our souls


between the words we speak,

there is a language




I spend my days running around

Chasing my thoughts

Trying to find solid ground

When all I want is you

People tell me what they know

Pretending to have it all together

Trying not to let it show

That all I want is you

Running the same old track

Bottling how I really feel

Tearing the skin off my own back

When all I want is you


I listen carefully
As my body calls for my soul
My soul has been searching
Leaving with my body, a hole

It’s the time it takes for healing
Time that’s not really mine
This borrowed time of feeling
To straighten my crooked spine

Now there’s no such thing as forever
Just places gone and time spent
No one knows what tomorrow brings
Or for what the body is really meant

They say my soul is searching
Aware of it’s shadow cast
Upon my world of wonder
The darkness cannot last

I pick the thorns of yesterday
Out from my hardened soles
There’s something my soul is searching
To fill these endless holes

With the little I have left
I try to keep things bright
As tired as I am
I will not sit out this fight

Solemn Sky

“Hush”, says the moon

As it casts solemn shadows by my side

Under the moonlight I’m free,

My soul free without a reason to hide

That mask worn by daylight, lifted

Taken off this little pawn

For at night I am a king

By dawn the mask, back on

The whispers in the stars are gentle

So beautifully they lie

As they burn out their last breath

Before they’re taken by the sky

I know it’s out there somewhere

In the vast milky way

I know it’s out there somewhere

It’s probably nothing like what they say

My eyes grow heavy still,

the night goes on

It’s time for the king to kill

This tiny, little pawn

For every night I die

To breathe life into a new

It’s time for me to let go

Maybe you should, too

God is an Alcoholic

“Been there, done that. Bought the T shirt”, is something I heard my parents say often when I was a child.

It was just something they said, until I grew a bit older and started to experience my own mundane, and futile moments.

It’s not even a bad attitude, it’s like a rain cloud on a sunny day that just pisses down on you.

My life is pretty good, I have not much to complain about, except for this brain of mine.  Why must I be sideswiped by the thought of life being pointless?  Why do I think too much? Why does it feel like I’m burned out at 29 years old?

Probably because I am, is the realistic answer.  I suffer from depression, some say.  I’m undergoing a spiritual transformation, others cry.

I’m not sure of any of that.  The nut job with a sign says God will save me.  The doctor with a fat paycheck says drugs will help me.  What exactly is the difference? Choose a form of escapism and stick with it?

To me, it is no wonder alcohol is such a popular substance.

What is the difference between being well, and thinking you are well?  Does it even matter? If  you think you are a good person, you must be a good person, right?

I think about those who don’t think so much, and wonder why? Maybe they are “well” and I am just not.  Possibly, they do not have time to think about life.  Should I just busy myself with these mundane tasks so that I no longer have time to think? Perhaps they have “mental fortitude” like a body guard that can guard them from these intruding thoughts.

My mind is like a leaky faucet. Even when it’s off, it’s still running.

Sometimes I wonder if I think about my life too much, and should think about others more often.  I often wonder, what it is like to be in the shoes of someone else? I wonder what my life would be like if I no longer could walk, or see, or hear,  how I would live my life, and how it would change me.

I often wonder about these things, but nothing changes.  I wake up again, perplexed by the equation of life that drags me down daily.  What am I going to do about it?

A man once asked a monk how he gets through life.  He asked, “How do you do it? How do you get up every day, put your clothes on, and go to work”?  The monk replied, “I get up, put my clothes on, and go to work”. No trickery there, you see.

My dad once asked me, “What would you do if you won a million dollars”? The question seemed silly to me, I wouldn’t do anything.  “I’d give it away, I said”. He didn’t reply. My answer was disappointing, or surprising, I don’t know. He never said much to me anyway – just left me wondering.

Here I am, still wondering.  What did he actually think about that? What would he do if he won a million dollars?  He’s no longer alive for me to ask.

So here I am, clearly thinking too much. So I decided to write it down. A piece of my mind, and many others.

Cheers to those who think too much, and thank you to those who do not.