I'm a middle-aged nobody breathing one day at a time in Ontario, Canada.
This tiny corner of the Internet is an outlet for unmasking random thoughts and creations surrounding life in general, adventures in budō, and any other topics that come to a ridiculous mind.
"Through journaling, your voice cannot go unheard."
Waiting so softly with gentle anticipation,
my little fingers explore dangerous city streets
that hide under virtual black and stars.
I’m waiting for the real nightfall to cloak me,
to hold me close between mystery and obfuscation…
when these two meet
love given and love received
trembling hands fall still
.
(Is there anything greater that requited love?)
One day before you’re gone
When the need is too high again
You will need to dry your arm
For a second time
August 5, 2025
12:10 am
Thank you for hearing my words
Yes, but, more than that…
Thank you for reading my poetry
That, but, more importantly…
Thank you for discovering me
With me
.
July ?? – August 2, 2025
Tossing here since 3
Awake for over an hour
Fucking kill me please
.
4:15-ish a.m., on being awake for over an hour and being damn cranky about it.
On some days, like today
My mind can be content
But unstill
It jumps, it scatters
It’s happy but restless…
I see it in the face now
I hear it in the talks now
I hold it in the hugs now
Please let me keep this now
I feel it in my hair now
I keep it on the desk and in the bedside table now
Friends will come and friends will go
It’s the way of things, but please
Let me keep this now
I didn’t know how badly I needed this
Until it held me with a gaze I could crawl inside of
To rest
.
July 23 – 31, 2025
You can’t stay here
You may stay here, should you choose
You are wanted here, by many, without a doubt
But it’s written all over every cell of your body
That you can not stay here
That you will not stay here
I want to be wrong more than right.
I hope I’m wrong about so many things.
I inhale many possible outcomes every minute,
so many that I can’t even taste them anymore,
and exhale apologies with and for every breath.
What are my lungs doing?
Why do they feel this way, hating me?
Why must they tell the world, over and over,
“I’m so sorry I’m here”?
.
July 29, 2025
~ 4 a.m.
“It’s ok, no matter what happens.” they tell me, but I fear for them anyway. Their logic, reason, and emotional intelligence is some of the most powerful I’ve ever seen. I fear for them — their potential disappointment, sadness, loneliness, heartbreak — they act like their shields are all securely in place but I sense joints in their defenses where pain can seep through.