The body was easy to move from the place to the car to the boat. As it always is. Premeditation is kind of my thing. I have done this same routine maybe a hundred times. No, I believe it is a hundred and six times. Yeah, a hundred and six. You know, blondes are my favourite of all the women. Slightly more gullible. Usually more attractive. All of them walking by themselves late at night. Coming from their restaurant shifts, drunken bachelorette parties, or on their way to an ex-boyfriend. Then, I would present myself to these tired, these tipsy, and these texting specimens. Most nights, it is an unlit cigarette in poor lighting that works effortlessly. Cliché I know. Although, there were times I would fake a bleeding lip on this fragile face of mine. It was easy with these ladies the way…

Today, I don’t want to exist.
Tomorrow is fine, but not today.
Today, I don’t deserve anything.
I hate the happiness, I hate the gift ideas.
I hate the attempts to cheer me up from friends and family.
I hate cards, I hate phone calls, I hate the internet.
I hate robbing my stepfather from his day, I’m so damn sorry.
I hate Sundays, I hate barbecues, I hate gatherings and music.
I hate being called something I’m not, stop telling me different.
Stop!!! It only encourages me and I lie to myself again.
I’m not a Dad a son or daughter wishes were still with us.
I’m not a Dad a son or daughter celebrates beating Cancer.
I’m not a Dad a son or daughter begs freed from behind bars.
I’m not even a Dad a son or daughter forgives for his mistakes.

my love for you is like a book with stolen pages
beautiful words erased
deleted lines…replaced
everything’s torn from the very bind
words rewritten that were never mine
an unknown author with a tale of a broken heart
spends his lonely days with nowhere to start
his pen runs dry
there’s nothing more to capture
in this tragic love story without its final chapter

If my trial has ended,
why do your stones still lay at my feet?
My deepest wounds will never heal until their forgotten.
No, always they fester, they ache,
like my broken heart which is bled to near death,
over and over, as I lay in this cold dark place alone.
I had to run from the pitchforks and torches.
Chased away, like a monster…
who once held the hand of a princess.
I still look for her in the moon,
wish for her in my dreams.
Come to me again my love in pardon,
or come to finish me off instead.

took a walk-in summer grass 
picked a blade, made a sound 
the air was country 
wild strawberries sweet 
like lazy cats we lay for hours 
In the filthy hot, in the no time afternoons 
sometimes on the highway to anywhere 
I had never been, now I was 
away from home, but home 
In a holiday dusk 
I remember watching mosquitos dance 
we hid in quiet as the sun went to sleep
while children ran through the tall trees 
like tiny beasts searching for their capture 
there was so much laughter inside my heart 
a new smile I learned to grow 
pure place full of running and joy 
town between the seconds 
I’ll be back again someday 

We should not worry about how long we will live? But, rather, how do we live? Quantity of life is a one-time blessing. It’s the quality of life that provides forever bliss. – Ash

In the night
like a ghost
nothing is ever seen
premeditation a superpower
skewing the real, while dancing with the devil
visiting worlds very far apart
the sky in one, a sky
the other could be anywhere envisioned on the spot
in the sweat, in the sins, in the climax
flying close to the sun
is a high like no other
a racing heart is a drug buried deep in the same shadows
but one beam of light and it all goes away
the curtain comes down
no more beautiful horizon
no more escape

Go ahead, tell me one more time that you don’t know where he is, and I am pulling this trigger. I’m tired of games. You know, it’s actually convenient you wearing that mask. Now I won’t risk getting too much of your ugly face all over my new black marble floor. My wife hates when I do stuff like that. She’ll be pissed if she finds out I brought my work home. Only, this time she won’t be too hard on me. Because you my friend, were stupid enough to come here on your own free will. This is sort of like delivery for me. What the hell were thinking coming to my house anyway? To my private masquerade party? Then, have the nerve to drink my expensive booze and hit on my ladies. They are all on my clock you know? You got…

I walked a path less travelled,
on a road covered in red.
Evergreens bowed before me,
to welcome back an old soul.
Draped, lonely…in silence.
A still that became my only friend.
There, my worries were sheltered,
protected by a forgotten trail.
That journey became ritual,
to protect me from blended reality.
I ran as soon as the sun would let me,
far away from the stranger who looked just like me.

There is nothing like keeping a deja vu in your back pocket. Easily triggered by the stimulus that surrounds you. Today, a walk to the edge of the harbour and my whole life flashed back. All it took was the smell of saltwater, the touch of a rains mist, and wonderful memories came flooding back as strong as the approaching tide. A picture is wharf a thousand words. – Ash