Sometimes my words live in the dark places
Riding the creative maelstrom
barely holding on,
Divinity or Dopamine,
Elation & Terror,
Waiting on the end,
Will I burn out or fade away.


When the void speaks,
you must listen closely,
because it's only heard
in the echoes.
Respond with care,
the void's wants
are not your own.

As the Witching Hour approaches.
As the Witches cackle and the Wolves howl,
Midnight approaches
and I hear the echoes of
All Hallows Eve.

Isn't it about time for Pandora
to open the box and
set Hope loose on the World.
We've been waiting long enough,
so set Hope free.

I never worry,
when my Angels and Demons argue.
It's the Quiet that troubles me,
when the voices are gone,
who will keep me company?

In talking to Angels,
I find that their whispers
will set the Wicked ablaze,
while a Demon's whispers
will seduce the Saintly to darkness.

On some days
when the tears fall
let them cleanse your soul
of shadows for a time.
Like a Spring rain
washing away the last of Winter.