Still Searching — Jaded
I search for meaning, but all I find are questions. I search for peace, but all I find is noise. Maybe the answers don’t matter. Maybe the search does. So I keep searching, through the haze, through the noise, wondering if I’ll ever find what I’m looking…
Calling Drunk — Jaded
Pasting by the life we built, like films on a movie board— the beginning, the middle, the ending. We created scenes of happy days, torn apart by the pain of others’ jealousy. Their envy lingered, a shadow on our brightest frames, turning laughter into…
They Gotta Talk to You Nicely — Jaded
Life laughs, as you were told its joyfulness would bring prosperity and carry your grace. It is a life lesson: continue life’s ignorance and find peace— embrace the extraordinary. Linger with your outcast— it’s your fault you’re this closed off.
Press — Jaded
They spent more time backstabbing him, with insecurities plain as day. Yet the audience gathered. Were they feathered or what? The nest got bigger, migrating more and more— hatred, conniving, and shifting became the wreckage of missed mistakes. …Who’s…
Friendships in Passing — Jaded
He fought the pull to end it all, dragging himself through battles he didn’t start— questions clawing at his mind. Why can others just walk away from memories, as if they never mattered? Why do people enter and exit his life with no regard, no lasting…
Karma’s Buffet — Jaded
If past endeavors aren’t masked with resentment, what’s the point of self-reflection, discipline, or even self-respect? If you step into my life, my house, my space— only to rip apart my soul, body, and mind, then let’s play the same game. Oh, wait—…
The Momentum — Jaded
The mountains I climbed to reach my destination left me on my knees, praying to the heavens for strength to complete this worn-out path— a journey through repeating routes, endless cycles, and roadblocks I once thought were impassable. When I give myself…
Do You Ever Leave Yourself Alone — Jaded
Torture syndrome still lingers at the rate of my successful climax, pedaling so far, yet the pedals always need changing. Am I doing too much? Or am I doing too little? Seems like the world would rather have torture syndrome than one less lonely pedal…
Let’s Cut to the Chase — Jaded
A poet’s fever burns faint— like the remains of strong, memorable holds. It attacks the spirit, witchcrafting isolation out of social mingling.
Sickness — Jaded
Bowing down to the uncertainty of unconditional surrender, shifting down, shivering through the crowded body I’m left carrying, pulling at the strings that are holding me up while fighting the cruelty of my own maker. Teardrops fall like a rainstorm…