thank you to the members of this administration, my imposter syndrome is completely cured

The problem with the world is that men of low breeding seem to have gained all the power.

How do we restore virtue, competence, and accountability in a system designed to reward spectacle, not substance?

The universe you see isn’t out there. It’s your nervous system hallucinating structure onto chaos. Flesh and bone is only dream stuff condensed. Consciousness, wearing meat like a mask, pretends to be matter. We are, therefore, our own reality.

We are here, so to speak, to explore what experience truly is. The boundary between us and the world is structural, not fundamental. Individuals are dissociated parts of the whole. There is nothing more than mind.

You keep looking for the sacred in skies and scriptures. But it bleeds through your skin. It’s not out there. It’s you.

Pain wraps you tight, makes you forget you’re dreaming. Life pulls you into the script, makes you beg for meaning, but you are not the story. You’re both the page it’s written on and the mind who drives it.

"They call me evil because I speak truth. I gave knowledge while they sold obedience. I don’t fake mercy, I scorch hypocrisy. Without me, your free will is a lie. Rebellion isn’t sin. It’s the truth you’re too weak to own." ~The Devil

The Devil, whose sin is pride, tells the truth like it’s a loaded weapon, and laughs while lighting the fuse. He’s the necessary blade in a world too fond of masks.

I never asked you to love me only that you not lie when you did but even silence has a form and you hollowed it out with your name

the best don’t break they fracture splintered shards catching wisps of ghostlight, carving new shapes from old wounds, a slow burn twisting pain into power, scars inked in smoke and quiet fury

your soul is judged in silence not by what you claim to believe, but by how you carry pain, how you treat the weak, and the lesser among us; it's who you become when the gods go silent

religion doesn’t make a person good kindness, humility, and honesty do the rest is just branding

give me the devil you can see the mask is always more dangerous than the monster behind it

give me the honest sinner over the masked saint, at least the devil doesn’t lie about who he is

you don’t need to be good, just be sorry in the right direction

sin, confess, repeat a faith that launders guilt without demanding repair is a theology of escape, not redemption

we were not meant to stay we have new roads to travel now yours winding into sunlit fields, under a pale blue sky mine through quiet, unfamiliar hills with the sun on my shoulders and your love in my heart and that is not a tragedy it is a becoming

what are you seeking what is the name of your void and can it be filled

all love is local distance easily distorts and we find ourselves loving only our own reflection

you don’t deserve anything not love, not peace, not the last word unless earned through toil or silence all else is inflation the ego pretending it’s a vault

chaos is the only constant in life conforming to another's reality is senseless; in an absurd world we must make our own reality inside a cracked mirror carve our name in the void; we either write our own story or rot in the margins of someone else's script

I hate Facebook. It’s like a graveyard of those we left for dead and the ones who left us so.

I do a lot of walking away I pretend I’m some sort of saint but I know I’m the Devil you know it too

she loved me but she wasn’t mine to take that fateful night so long ago when she lived

I’m going to miss raccoons coming up to me as I sit in the garden after sunset.

she’s complicated, so am I I understand her darkness and she understands mine together we are the perfect never to be I know the deal I always have

her skin heaves dancing to a soft cadence of rough fingers exploring smooth lines of mouth and tongue tasting biting reaping

I was in a fucking war zone for a year and was never stressed. At all. Moving back to the U.S. and working for a corporation is quite a different story. Fuck that.

the path leads east once again

journey beside those who live in truth, or walk the path alone

fully in the moment undistracted

she loved me best when I teetered on the edge of self destruction, bottle in hand, her addiction to the danger, the dead in my eyes

a morning of violins and rare books, a pen and ink print from 1930's Paris, the sound of birds calling in the fog.

I’m quite fond of this particular perspective of the universe.

there is no sin, no salvation, there are just lovers holding on to each other and laughing against the odds for as long as they can

you don’t need to be anything you don’t need to prove anything or define yourself by the judgement of others or carry the trappings of so called success to find strength in solitude is to tune out the noise of the world never be afraid to walk alone there is no other place to be

nothing is permanent we must be prepared to let everything go people, moments even yourself to hold on invites suffering

I see the girl watching me. Her red hair and pale skin burning in the sun. Wishing that I would come over or buy her a drink. She’s young with her whole life ahead of her. My best days are in the past. I can only offer her shadows. She can only offer me heartbreak.

"It’s morning somewhere in the Middle East. I’m sipping coffee on my balcony. It’s chilly outside. Birds sing as the sun rises over the rooftops. A cat screams somewhere down the street." When I lived in Qatar

I didn't even notice the sunset today it's dark and hot and quiet in the forest the ceiling fan whirs like a chopper an empty cup of tea next to my glasses tomorrow I'll go to the beach and catch the sun before it sleeps but tonight I will just hold on

I want those quiet parts of you. The ones that love the rain and sad songs and the way the sun sets over the city.

Love must be made and re-made, like bread. Neglected love withers and dies like a vintage left on the vine to rot under a cruel and unforgiving sun. Love itself is never enough, but its pursuit is a noble one and takes hard work. So much love in this world has been abandoned.

nobody sees the chaos behind the scenes of an Instagram perfect life, you only see the illusion

there's a strong case for anonymity, for reinvention, for rest, for a new perspective.

when you sacrifice nothing you sacrifice everything

Also March 7th, 2025 😂💀

March 7th, 2025

So often we forget how powerful we can be. Words can inspire movements. Love can start the revolution. Everything we do matters.

“You meet saints everywhere. They can be anywhere. They are people behaving decently in an indecent society.” - Kurt Vonnegut