That Day


The pain burns through him the way his skin burned when he was beaten as a child. Burns so not that his nerves writhe beneath his skin like electric worms burrowing through his flesh… so bad that he has to bite his own arms to keep from screaming

It’s all about control.

He knows that.

If you can control yourself they can’t hurt you.. You have to command yourself because adaptability is everything. It is what one needs to be, but the feeling of being seems to be nothing more than the tears he’s never allowed anyone to see. The wetness creeps beneath the drowsy lids leaving a trial of acid memories…. As his yes flutter close, welcoming the scenic views of darkness, escaping from a place where kindness and cruelty are one and the same, and love and loathing are indistinguishable because the people who love him the most, hate him the most. At the same time thinking, there’s no place like home.


JB February 2013




When the pain is gone and the misery sets in, and the isolation rewinds all of the setbacks inside the mind… What is left to go on?

When no more tears can be shed and a soul that once bled greatness through it’s windows, now envisions redemption as the only option… What is the structure to build on?

When one sees love as being essential to life, but nine months of formation never birth it.. What was left unsaid?

Conceived within a lie, hung out to dry. Scorching nights and hellish days with fresh embers surrounding their cage.

If all are children of God, why do the innocent…

What’s Life?

Written by JB (SMS)