Sad

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Way of the Drifter

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He’s got pale blue eyes
And a sly crooked smile.
His heart burns with rage,
For the world has done him wrong.
He walks upon dunes,
Wind and sand,
      His face weathered.
Always on the hunt,
He seeks to reap his vengeance.
None are left but ghosts
In a sea of empty death.
Few dare cross his path.
He is destroyer of men,
Lone Saint of killers.
Judicator of the lost
Walking the dark road of dusk.

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Part of the Drifter series


Held to Dirt

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Dreams of death haunt me,
I see my children weeping.
Looking from the grave,
I long to kiss away tears,
Though forever held to dirt.

-Hunter Coch


Lost, Three Tanka

1.
Despair rips across
Thoughts and vivid dreams of life,
Opening the mind
To visions of hopelessness
And paths that lead into fog.

2.
Lost in grey water
That floats silent through the streets
Touching broken hearts,
Breathing life into dark thoughts,
And a future of white pain.

3.
Pale is the autumn
At the dawn of October,
Atop rain-soaked streets
Full with the wandering lost,
All they see is a warm home.


Feel

I don’t feel like a man
I don’t feel like a person
I don’t feel like a human
I don’t feel like I belong
I don’t feel worthy

I feel worthless


Seizure

The brain burns
With pulsating currents
Of neurological electricity
And emotional instability.

The brain burns
And awareness stays,
I can feel the shaking
I live in the fire.

The brain burns
With magic,
White lights dance
Until the afterglow.

The brain burns,
Reality bends,
Visual metamorphosis
It never really ends.


Awake

I awoke to find self loathing,
A spark of death in my heart.

I awoke to swimming despair,
A drop heartache in an ocean.

I awoke to the light fading,
And the hurt expanding by leagues.

I awoke to a new emptiness,
That’s as old as my age of existence.

I awoke to the pains I’ve caused
To an undeserving heart.

I awoke to a moonless night
The stars no longer speak.


Bleeding (Censored)

I’m falling,

Falling from the mountains of emotion,

Falling from the epic climb up cliffs and peaks.

I can smell piss,

It permeates the house and carpet,

It lives in the furniture, I clean and the next week returns.

I’m lonely,

Living day to day with minimal adult interaction,

Living in a house but unable to make it a home.

I crave,

Longing for the inebriation and sweet forgetfulness of spirits,

Longing for times when the weight is still there, but considerably less.

I’m tired,

Sleep comes in short bursts and then poor in quality,

Sleep brings good dreams, the only reprieve.

I cry,

Tears in the early morning, before the sun rises,

Tears of self pity, emptiness, and loss.

I’m nauseated,

Puke is always at the point of expulsion,

Puke is always fought back down, no time for that.

I’m sad,

Saddened by the mental incapacity of the father,

Saddened by the hurt I’ve caused the ones I love.

I exist,

Only by the will and strength of diapers both young and old,

Only for the love given and the smiles of my children.

I live.


A Quiet Moment

Serenity lost,
Emotional tsunami,
A quiet moment.


Momentary

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Bright in the night sky,
A blooming flower of light.

Momentary life.


City of Specters

The dark side rises
In the city of specters,
Where memories live
Of torments best forgotten,
And cries echo through the streets.