Lost Faith 

This has gone on long enough; The cyclical era makes me sick. 

Longing for the fantastical ending that will never manifest and instead gathering the poisonous buds that you carelessly flicked. 

How will I get along? 

How will our seed understand and grow? 

I can’t make it. My worth is too low. 
I will come to my Senses and ask whether experiences can be forgotten, but they insist “no”.

They offer solace instead and bring back tastes of pain and anxiety burning;Visions of the fuck you neither gave nor showed. 
The number of times incalculable that my third eye knew weren’t true,

instead I ignored the cautionary signs horrified of what I knew. 
The alpha and omega have arrived with what seems like no invitation to you. 

The magic and potions have faded,leaving the illusions unmasked as well as empty pews. 

I Don’t Care 


Feed in to my self-loathe. Join in the everything-is-wrong innuendos like a good friend. 

Squint your eyes, gnash your teeth, feel the abomination that is loneliness in your bones as I do. 

Only then will we be able to stand one another’s existence and energy. 

Only then will my pain slightly lessen when I am burying you in it. 
Invite others as well. The more the merrier. 

We need all the empty souls we can salvage to throw the pity and hate onto them like the trash out the windows down East Palm and Minor. 

Who will stop us? Who dares? 

No one even cares. 

No one even cares. 
The facade painted on each morning is apparently a good enough disguise to ward off help, but is help even what we want? 

(What I want?) 

If you feel my distress yet turn and walk the other way, should I then be remorseful for projecting it on you? 

It can’t be fair. 

I don’t even care. 



As the sun dips tiredly into its restless haven, I too drift into a darkness I intend to derail day after day to no avail. 

I do not fear it for I know it can cause no true harm, only agony and the defeat I feel entrapping me every sunset. 
The true angst arrives solely through my own lack of will and battle between synapses. 

If I am aware of the strife I will endure daily, how dare I allow the darkness to seep in like oil into asphalt continuously? 

How can this thing overcome me if I am aware it is not real? 
Yet, these voices do haunt me even as the stellar beings attempt to comfort me, now what seems to be in pity. 

Images of failed attempts at what I always painted love to be. 




Lackluster life that only dares speak to me as my sun droops off into the abyss. 
This is not real. 

I am not washed up like the rubbish left lingering on the shore line. 

Only as the light fades do I scream curses into the darkness, eyes shut, longing for that speckle; just a ray of light. 

To assure me I am not all the insecurities and failures the Dark whispers angrily at me. 
I am more. 

I am defiant. 

I am mistakes, 

but I am also Love. 



 I’ve had to ingest something                every night since you’ve been gone

just so I would fall into dreams again. 
I have to adapt to not 
feeling your vibrations in the room
anymore, so then 
maybe my energy could mend. 
I’m beginning to enjoy the silence, 
the rooms free of your pain. 
I don’t recall who I was before you 
or who I thought I would be. 
I can’t shake the thoughts that 
I will never again be the same. 
I’ve had to grow from you, 
and detach my soul from your grasp even
though you’re all I’ve ever wanted. 
Giving up
and giving myself loneliness 
is what will leave me free 
and no longer haunted. 


You cannot fathom the ache that 

trembles through my core, 
the anguish that is my soul. 
Longing to feel peace, 
but settling for pain because 
it proves I am alive,
even if not whole. 
The wish to combust from the inside out, or suffocate on fears reappears as I 
sit, praying for an end. 
Nightmares of love and bliss visiting my unrest, 
no one to comfort me or to assist or transcend. 
There is no longer a ray of light to quench 
this darkened world,
nor a hand to reach out and hold. 
Only sadness to embrace the warmth I once contained, 
the last of me your illusion stole. 

Teacher’s Strife



I gave
you all
you need



You cry
and I
will shout



You can
make it,
have pride


Photo found at: http://jane-beata.deviantart.com/journal/PE-9-ways-to-overcome-artistic-Frustration-342185323

Good Vibes

Craving your smile
not just your soul
Missing your good vibes
why did we have to grow old

I’m in this desolate part of my brain
where memories haunt and partially hurt
Will we laugh again in the dark
before they throw me in the dirt

Because everything is nothing
and nothing is everything with you
Let’s fight this heart in heart
even if we don’t win
we still won the truth

Help me out of this hole
We can leave any day
Run far
Far far away

There’s more to this than what we see
There’s more than our eyes can hold
Meet me there
We have galaxies to unfold


rip infinity

sheila sea

I think it must’ve died around 2001?
A/S/L was the first shovel full of
dirt on its mass grave.
granted, it’s an interesting death to die
and still be present.
aware but paralyzed.
almost omnipresent.
almost subversive.
almost, yes-
but not quite.
and I suppose the screens have
become our lovers
yes, they hold us
with each like.
“mmm” we moan
as we revel in the
warmth of each
surge of traffic
and the embrace of a viral spike.
it’s okay!
the stream will keep us conscious,
and unmolested!
we’re happy here!
we know happiness here!
forever and ever

– Sheila Sea

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Waiting Game

Waiting for your reply
Like a junkie waiting for a high
Listening to any body who tells me I’m wrong
So I can be over you already like the notes to a song
Creeping around like the thoughts in my head
How do you get me like this?
This must be how your ego is fed
Do you really want this?
Do you really care?
This is my heart, my soul, my universe
that I’m ready to share


Confessions of Doubt

Doubt sits down with me
a panicked look upon
his face.
Holding my chin in his calloused hand,
he forces my eyes to meet his hallowed
out orbs
while perpetuating penetrating,
probing questions
begging me to stay.
suffocating me,
insisting his love
will not be swayed.

I cannot cry.
I cannot scream out or
flail about.
His grasp seems indefinite,
his strength unsurpassed.
My answer must remain “no”
to you.
You see, I have been sharing a larger
part of my heart
with Doubt.


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