The Nightmare Begins



Falling asleep, your eyes flutter closed.

Imagine you’re standing straight up in an empty room. You fall backwards, when you hit the floor you shatter like glass into a million pieces.

But the room flips upside down and on the other side of the floor your pieces reassemble so that you’re standing standing straight up again.

Your eyes flutter open. You look around, confused. You don’t realize it, but this is your nightmare. And things are about to get bad.

This Dark Room

A setting sun
But I can’t see
A rising moon
But I can’t see
I’m alone
In this dark room
There are
No doors
There are
No windows
And I can’t remember
If my eyes are open
Or if they’re still closed
And I guess one day
It just stopped mattering
The world just fades
When you’re alone
In this dark room


Of all the things
That break us
I think maybe the worst
Are the almost’s

Those words
You almost spoke
Her heart
That almost fell
Your heart
You almost gave
That love
That almost was
The life
You almost had

How many almost’s
Can we endure
How many almost’s
Before we break
Beyond repair
How many nights
Must we wonder
What almost
Might have been


It isn’t that
I want to die
It isn’t that
I want to live
And I guess that
Is the issue
It’s simply that
I exist
It’s simply that
I survive
This day passes
Into the next
I don’t know that
I feel too much
I don’t know that
I feel too little
I float along here
In some kind of limbo


I’m not ok, but I’m ok. This seems to be at odds, but a bit like superposition, both are true.

The fact is I’ll never be ok. This emptiness inside, these nightmares that follow me into the awake, this rage that I hide, but is always there… I’m not ok, and I hate the question. There is no real answer. Any answer it’s a lie or partial one.

But it’s ok. Really it is. That emptiness; it’s always been there, it always will. Those nightmares; sometimes the monster is after me, sometimes I’m the monster – either way, they’re all I know. And that rage; without it, I would have let go, so very long ago.

Don’t ask me, don’t make me lie. But know, even if I lie, I’m telling the truth. I’m not ok, but that’s the only ok I’ve ever known. So believe me when I say, I’m ok.

What Happens

I used to say
My memories
Were like razor blades
Inside my veins

They hurt
To rip them out
But they hurt more
To leave them in

But what happens
When the words
To pull them out
No longer heal

What happens
When every mask
Becomes too heavy
To even wear

These things inside
They often hurt
The boxes I keep them in
Are too many to count

So tell me
Someone please
What happens
When I’ve nothing left