He passes through your life a shade. A shadow confined to the very edges of darkness and light, he shimmers as he barely exists. Names are given, a personality is painted, and a half image of a man is left. It dissolves like a distant memory as reaching bonds are snapped by the force of departure. Neither cry nor sigh is given in respect. Just a lonely memory that walks alone. Above the moon guides the steps of the lost souls below. They find comfort in the darkness away from the light. A sleeping sin that hums like a forgotten tune. I hear the words still…

There is no passion like forgotten passion. No love like lost love. We journey on towards the light, forever bound by the night. And with the coming day we cry in dismay as we slowly vanish before the warmth. Never to truly know the sun, but forever given a small glance. Just a look at what we will never have.

-Opinionated Man


The Cutter

She draws upon herself with beautiful knives of steel. With each stroke she paints a picture of her pain… with pain. Each cut produces a blossom of relief followed by a single tear of desire. A yearning for relief so strong is present that the hand acts without thought. It creates etch marks upon the arms and legs to mark the turning of each page. Another chapter of depression is finished, marked by the flowing of blood. They form droplets of periods and commas on the floor that highlight the desire of the moment. The emptiness of the page that follows reveals more than a lack of desire to write. The absence of a picture paints the image of pain that would be understated by words. It is instead underlined by the “swishing” of a razor and a pained smile of contentment.

-Opinionated Man


Paper Sailboats

Paper sailboats created out of paper dreams. They sail down manmade paths of flowing tears towards perfectly spaced gutters. Gapping jaws of finality swallow hope without remorse, inhuman as they are unbiased in selection. I stare for a second to ensure a miracle does not happen. It does not.

I create a smaller sailboat.




The Joust

The ground shakes as if the earth is giving birth to twin earthquakes. Two men clothed in iron race upon horseback towards each other with similar goal. A prize that only one can possibly win.

Lances with shining tips of justice are leveled with steady hands as the combatants draw near. The watching crowd inhales as one a last gasp of air as the inevitable clash of desire draws close.

The crash of contact also heralds the end for the defeated as a shining helmet flies through the air and is quickly followed by an armored man. The end is realized as the ground comes rushing forth to meet him.

A single knight trots towards the center stand, alone in victory. His prize is not the thunderous applause of his newly acquired fans. Instead his trophy falls gently from the sky, an insignificant handkerchief embroidered with rich letters.

It is a gift worthless to all save one.

The winner of The Joust.



I Once Saw a Woman Die

I once saw a woman die. There were no clouds that parted. I looked in her eyes and saw no glimmer of understanding and even to the end that did not change. I watched for the coming of something… and saw nothing from it. Instead what I witnessed was the passing of time. And time stopped for just a moment, she turned and took that woman’s hand and they drifted away.

That was the image of death when I once saw a woman die.

-Opinionated Man


Tear Me Down

Tear me down with your passion so that I may know you care. Strike me with your verbs and cause the consonants to fall from my body. Through tears of pain I can see clearly at last. From being broken, I can finally start to heal.

Water me with your compassion so I know I will never be alone. Shelter me with your care and cause the falling terrors to find no home here. Through the constant pelting from above I am reminded that the world is still forever close. From your comfort I can finally catch my breath.

I ask a favor as a last resort. Expecting neither passion or compassion, I strike out at even those that shelter me. I unknowingly cause my own pain and welcome the night terrors into my bed each night. Healing can only take place with my last breath… a breath soon to be taken.

-Opinionated Man