Author: brokensoulcity

The Survivalist

I no longer know what it feels like to desire love. I lost the sight of those dreams in the dark. Maybe it’s all for the best. One less face stinging with tears.

Dare me. Bet that I’ll change. If you could see the scorched plains of my soul, you’d refrain. Each day ripping the scab away from my love stoned heart. Never healing. Never forgetting. Bleeding through my shirt. A warning to heed for the voyagers who chip away and away with faithful interests that I don’t share. I won’t care. Won’t share the secrets I’m bound to…that define me…that shape my core. Somehow that leaves them wanting more of which I have none…so I flee to subzero lands. Praying the winter won’t cease. Praying the winter leaves no survivors.


Undisclosed Location

I cannot tell you where I am. I cannot tell you where I belong. I am not even sure I can tell you where I’ve been, and I certainly have no clue as to where I’m going.

Thrown into the jungle without a compass and without a sun or moon as a guide. At times thinking it’d be better to just close my eyes and take whatever path presents itself. Knowing that choosing a path in blindness may be better than choosing a path to certain failure.

There’s a comfort in ignorance, right? “Well, I didn’t know…” Wouldn’t you like to know?

There’s a lot that’s worth knowing. For starters, I’d like to be able to find myself. The gps module wasn’t installed within me.

Searching. Turning over every rock to find the life within myself – to find what I desire most. So far, I’ve found the harsh, bitter earth flavored with decomposing matter much like my own core, and I’ve been cleaning the grit from underneath my nails for each of the past 2000 days. Hands marked with defensive scars from shielding my face against the obscenities I’ve created. I do not wish to see, but even without eyes, the blind gain wisdom.

Maybe there’s hope after all or maybe I’m just delusional about it all. Maybe I’ll be lost forever.

Tragic Heroism

The following paragraph was written by me 6 years ago, and it’s still relevant to my life. Some things never change.

It feels like my tomorrows are my yesterdays. I keep re-living my mistakes. Every single mistake is framed in my memory hanging from the walls of a long winding hallway that doesn’t seem to end. I keep walking down that hallway until blisters have formed on the balls of my feet, and my legs are like jello waiting to give way. Tired cant begin to describe my mind and how it is meandering through thoughts, which I wouldn’t dare to speak of. I’m sure you can imagine, right?

The Cursed

In the bleakness of the dark night
as the depths of your reflections glare
pain illuminates the walls
as the stench of weariness envelops your home
pining until flesh rots off your bones
for just a glint of sunshine from someone’s eyes
hoping it will save you from your soul’s demise