About Me

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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Friday, July 25, 2014


Sorting and mixing illusions

That linger in your absence,

Spicing up a dull afterglow,

I'm looking for my answer

All I find is corrosion

And imbalance

Hanging loosely between space and density;

My consciousness changes color like a chameleon

Roving eyes stare for a micro moment then seep into the background like memory

They see for me and reveal.

You are the underline.

Pyramids of dead whispers piled neatly,

Housing eternal chaos

Make a ladder I must climb to finally arrive here;

This is a world of falling feathers and popping instants,

Of flowing lights and truths that tug at your attention,

Where you can swirl your way around the moon

But not find one role to fit into,

You can cup thoughts in your palm

But you can never hold on to them.

I have sat and stared at blank pages

And done nothing for hours except

Invade the farthest limits of the universe

And paint its walls invisible;

Lost-and-found is a game of destiny

You’re lost, now I must find me.


  1. You have some great images here that convey your message and mood well, including, "Pyramids of dead whispers" and, "You can cup thoughts in your palm/ But you can never hold on to them." They lead gracefully to your very strong ending. I like your stuff a lot!