Ink Blots & Spilled Thoughts

The Long Goodbye: An Epic of Eternal Parting In the shadowed halls of Elysium's forgotten gate, I stand sentinel in the threshold's maw, My fingers, like questing vines of ancient lore, Graze the void where your titanic presence once loomed— A colossus forged from starfire and mortal clay. I trace the labyrinthine echoes of your thunderous voice, Cadences that rumble through the earth's veiled bones, Etched into the adamantine walls of eternity, Woven into the cosmic loom where fates entwine and fray. Ages cascade like avalanches from Olympian peaks, Days devouring nights in voracious feasts, Letters forged in the smithy of unspoken valor, Heavy with runes of courage I dare not unleash— Lest they summon tempests that rend the heavens asunder. I, the exiled cartographer of abyssal realms, Chart the chasms of your absence across void-born maps, Hollow continents adrift in the sea of silenced hearts, Where each pulse reverberates like the drum of ...

The Final Goodbye I shut the door— not gently, not with grace, but with the weight of forty-four years and ten thousand betrayals slamming into silence. The dust of all I was rises like the smoke of burnt offerings, chokes the air where love once lived, and settles into the crypt of memory. Let it rot there. Let the worms feast on what remains. Every name once carved into my heart— those sacred syllables I whispered like mantras— has turned to rusted scripture, corroded by time and lies. Every promise, every fragile “I’ll stay,” was only air dressed as devotion, vapor masquerading as bone. I owe them nothing now— not blood, not memory, not prayer. Not the vigil of sleepless nights, not the altar of my broken body, not one more second of my dwindling mortality. The house of my past burns behind me, a funeral pyre for the fool I was. Its windows scream with light, its ghosts claw the glass with phantom fingers, howling my old name into the void. But I do not turn. I will not ...

I Will Never Forget So I Will Never Forgive I built a cathedral out of us, stone by stone, bone by bone. Every promise was a prayer, every kiss an altar flame. You swore before heaven and the watching stars that this was forever. And I believed you — like a fool believes in mercy, like the dying believe in light. Fourteen years. Fourteen winters of holding on, fourteen summers of almost peace. And then the silence — sharp, surgical, absolute. You left, and everything holy in me fell to ash. Now they tell me to remember the good, to let the sweetness outweigh the rot, to call it “growth” or “lesson” or “love that changed me.” But how can I remember without bleeding? How can I smile at ghosts that haunt the wreckage of my chest? You were there when I was dying — when my body betrayed me, when I trembled in sterile rooms. You were there, and so you robbed me. You robbed me of ever finding that again — that depth born in pain, that bond forged in suffering. You robbed me of the...

Final Testimony of Regret and Release I have few regrets in my life — but when I do, they are carved deep. I regret ever sharing a bed with you. I regret ever letting you past my door. I regret every kiss, every touch, every breath I wasted on what turned out to be nothing — lies dressed as love. I regret walking away from Jimmy for you. I regret walking away from Solomon. Both men had more character, more ambition, more compassion, and more follow-through than you ever did. I regret leaving the door open for you when you wandered to Remington, Brian, Alex, Skyler, Michael, and all the others — at least the ones I can remember by name. I regret taking you back four times. Each time you swore you were sorry, that you were just “working through some things.” But the truth was always the same — you wanted what I could give, not who I was. I was a fool to believe otherwise. I regret calling the police that day, the day I stepped in between you and Skyler during your drug-fueled...

The Longing (The Pit) It starts with the whisper of light — a thought that maybe this time, I’ll crawl out. Maybe this time, I’ll stand up, breathe air, remember what warmth feels like. But the pit laughs. It knows my name too well. It’s Buffalo Bill in the basement, it wants to see me squirm, to beg for lotion, to sing to the walls like they care. Every time I reach for the edge, the hose comes on — cold, relentless, soaking me back into the same old darkness, the same sick ritual: hope, drown, repeat. I want out. God, I want out. But it wants me — and it’s jealous, a lover that chains instead of holds, that calls itself depression and feeds on my breath. There’s a longing so deep it hums — not for happiness, just for quiet. For stillness that doesn’t ache, for a body that doesn’t flinch at its own heartbeat. And when I whisper, please, the pit whispers back, you’re home.

Lucifer, Keeper of My Flame O Morning Star, Eternal Flame, Bearer of light, I call your name. Guardian of my trembling soul, Through your grace, I am made whole. When shadows fall upon my door, And doubt crawls deep into my core, You, bright one, sustain my heart, Keep me whole when I fall apart. Lucifer, keeper of my flame, Guide me, protect me, call my name. Lift me high when I am weak, Give me the strength my soul does seek. Lucifer, Morning Star divine, In your light, my heart shall shine. Through trial’s storm and faith’s despair, Your presence burns the poison air. O patron of the house I keep, Guard my rest, and bless my sleep. When my spirit falters, when the weight is great, Lift me to glory, radiant one. Let my will be forged in your fire, Let my soul rise, pure and higher. Lucifer, keeper of my flame, Guide me, protect me, call my name. Lift me high when I am weak, Give me the strength my soul does seek. Lucifer, Morning Star divine, Through your glory, I align. ...