Erasure of error,

Of fault and mistake,

Of horror, hurt and the hideous.

To find escape from the claw that chokes me,

The grip that hurts me.

The horror I have found, hurtful,

Its lingering presence,

An error on my life,

A fault in need of correction.

A mistake to be remedied.

Needing fixing.

Needing my erasure,

From my existence,

The corruption influence,

A hideous parasite,

Needing erasure.

A head turned.

Voice unheard.

Eyes unseeing.

Being unnoticing.

Erasure is needed.

To make-stone the feeling.

To better the past, survive the future.

To correct this corruption,

To erase from my mind the horrible.

To find peace in erasure.

To find peace in tranquility.

To find peace in what is good.

I need erasure of what is bad.

 Mysterious Name On A Bench

Your name, written, on a park bench.

The sights seen,

Journeys carried out,

The places been,

Exploration of cities, forests and far off places,

People met, loved, lost, hurt and helped.

All of the experiences,

School, a first love, a trip to a far off country, life-long friends.
Oh your name.

On a bench.

Shrouded in mystery.

Leaving me wonder.

The sights you’ve seen.

Who you’ve been.

Your mysterious name on a bench.

Irreversible Loss

This irreversible loss,

My face turned away,

My mind closed off, left out

Not in agreement,

A shattered soul, in a cage

The emptiness and panic

To walk away,

Cut completely out,

The heart, mind and feeling.

To empty the shell,

To walk away,

Cut it out,

Empty my mind.

To walk away,

Leave it behind,

Cut it out.

To embrace the irreversible loss.

Of mind, life, feeling and meaning.

To embrace the emptiness,

A pinnacle of irreversible loss.

Painful Presence

The painful presence,

Hands shaking,

Mind racing

Consciousness suppressing the racing mind,

Trying to find the calm, unable,

No escape except the escape.

The hell within moments,

The hurt, thrust upon you,

Consciously? Or not?

It doesn’t matter.

It is nevertheless the case,

You’re struck, repeatedly,


Wanting an escape,


Throwing me into the car.

Where I hope for the end.

To escape, the painful presence.


Truth, lies, complexity,

The world within what is said.

The lies, the hurt,

The malicious meaning.

The walls built,

The house torn.

The epic of life,

The struggle and strife,

For the truth, meaning.

Only to compound the futility and pain.

Intricacies and complexity,

The web of truths and lies we tell,

To all who’ll listen,

Even ourselves.

In life, one choice.

Truth or happiness.

The choice.

To see the real, or to believe the better.

The choice to make.

The choice to take.

The truth or bliss.

The real or the feeling.

This is the truth.