and react to life. Wear a mask for too long, however, and it becomes
difficult to remove. Especially if that mask has been forced upon you…
truth, and perhaps even reveals apocalyptic prophecies.
soundtracks. The soundtrack instruMental albums can also be found on
my other skin,
fits like a glove.
Looks like the leather
but it is mine.
I was born into it.
Incubated in hangover,
gifted with angry genes,
shat out into slums,
tendered by the beatings of judgements
and molded by punishment
only found in solitude.
Spending quality time
by myself but not
The infinite hum of loneliness.
The rumbling rage of rejection.
In the nebulous clouds of neglect
the shadow was formed,
the mask first worn.
Mad and crazy are merely colloquial.
They don’t use those words any more,
but euphemisms are shrouds and not graves.
He is a product of his tortured past
they will say
before they torture me presently.
to reject this mask
the way the world has rejected me.
and the scrambled brains behind Sykophunk Productions. His poetry and
fiction have been published in Confluence, Ink Cloud, and the
anthology Life on a Tightrope; he has written, performed, and/or
produced hundreds of globally distributed songs; opened up for
national acts such as Rehab, Anybody Killa, Liquid Assassin, Razakel,
Lil Wyte, Scum, and 2 Live Crew; and had one of his tracks played on
The Colbert Report.
Psychology in Fort Wayne, Indiana, where he lives with his beloved
fiancée and adorably neurotic dog. His current projects include
getting a bachelor’s degree and creating a multi-media
post-apocalyptic horror experience.
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