The Word

It is often at such a late time in the evening i find myself wondering about life's greatest questions as they appear for myself. Will i ever actually make anything of myself? Will i ever truly be the man i believe deep inside of my subconscious i am suppose to be? Why does life seem so fucking dreary? I am dating a girl i really care for and yet i cannot seem to push the notion away that i am still in another seemingly directionless relationship. I feel as if life has no true fulfillment in what we need it to be fulfilling in. If life were a physical person my very first intuition would be to drag it to the nearest source of water and force whatever it breathes from far inside the depths of the water. I want to watch it wrangle, hoping there may be a source of mediation in disagreement somewhere upon the horizon. It is disappointing, life. I want to throw this whiskey clear into the side of a hard, unforgiving brick building and yet i stare at the one i live everyday and can still...

12%. Can you fathom as humans today, as advanced as we are, only utilize on average, 12% of our brain powers potential? Speculate for only a brief moment what the infinite possibilities would be should we find our key to our species Pandora's box. Intergalactic travel, reaching as far as the forex dwarf galaxy and beyond, seeing the constellations we've gazed at for centuries from the grassy knoll at night right in front of your face. Imagine walking into your local drug mart and picking up your one-time cancer vaccination. Peace amongst nations may new achieved with no bloodshed and darwinism finally prevails over mythological gods and cultist ideologies.  Literature has a brave new world to traverse as intellect evaporates our currently vapid society. Bilingualism is an unnecessary talent as we have evolved into one universal language, and racism being nothing but an example of this foolish period in time, one engulfed by selfishness and self-righteous pretensions.  We ...

Last night, throughout my turbulent on-off sleep pattern of which I've become accustomed to, I was forced to endure one of those pesky little irritants we call nightmares. I was not being chased by some ghoul, nor was I trapped in a graveyard of mutant zombies, oh no it was so much more horrific than that, a concept that could crush my very existence should it ever come into fruition. I dreamt that all forms of writing: fiction, non fiction, even boring statistics book, were banned indefinitely. All books were just simply gone, as if they evaporated into the heavens. When I would attempt to sit down at my type writer, the keys were held like concrete. In a panic, I rushed to the library to find my once beloved place of solace to be nothing more than a vacant structure of what once was. I collapsed to the ground, chest breathing heavy, and attempted to collect my thoughts. When I began to conjure a new story, I experienced the most dreadful writers block I have ever known. My eyes s...

How does the world suddenly seem so chilling compared to our previous years? We grow up in fast paced environment: constantly revolutionizing digital devices and the media driven industry has expanded to a net worth that topples that of our state governments, our views on what is considered beautiful seems to have shifted to tooth pick sized models who have no interest in even French fries? It frightens me to think what the future keeps locked away for us. Will it be the futuristic society being controlled by a totalitarian company or government as we see in so many various filmmakers depictions of the time yet to come?  I shutter even as I sit here scripting this random thought. The dwelling over what hasn't happened yet is such an impeding idea to me although I fear to whether or not it will be happy. Sometimes as I stare out into the crisp, night air I think to myself what is lying out there looking right back into me. I expect a shift though, that I am certain of. A major sh...

    Its 4am on a long Wednesday evening, just as the sun peers over top the accumulation of clouds that has gathered since last night’s storm. I’m 8 years old, smack dab in the middle of the live horror that is night terrors, screaming bloody murder, bashing my fists into walls in an attempt to settle the demons. Amidst the fear, for the first time, I could see a glimmer of light in my otherwise dark dream world and she comes almost out of nowhere. Who could it be? The next morning I rise earlier than per usual on a Saturday morning, to find my guardian sitting at the foot of my bed, more alarmed at the fact I could see through her rather than her identity. It was my Aunt Molly, a gentle and often self-sacrificial person in life, taken way too young at the age of 67 due to invasive cancer, my childhood caregiver. Seeing this, the awe was almost dialed down, I knew her, she knew me, but she was dead! She was dead and gone, and now she is gazing at me from 3 feet away in her no...