Dysfunctionality of an Almost Human Mind

The newest short novel to join my portfolio is now live on amazon. After almost 2 years of working with it, along side the other projects and the general lack of time to actually work on it. But it is finally out. When you question what's real, old things become new with every step. This psychological suspense story plays with that concept and puts you in the shoes of a reformed schizophrenic trying to readjust to society. The reader is taken through a joyride in the mind of this disturbed individual, all in a fresh presentation and approach. This could be seen as a love letter to the journey of self-discovery, and though these concepts may share some similarities, it would be unwise to assume it as such. The creation of this book paralleled my personal recovery from a massive injury. The idea of "getting back out there" was very much hammering my thoughts. Through this short story I was able to channel that energy and focus on my recovery to astonishing results. Certainl

Tell me who you're with, I'll tell you who you are. A cliché in everyone's mind. Has anyone ever considered the implications? Doubtful, yet they can not be denied. Who are you with? Is that really who you are? Look around, take a gulp, start a war. Think about the implications And let's talk about them in a bar. What if there's no one with you? Who or What are you then? Become the consequence of one to the end. These are dangerous implications. There, laid to be the carcass of a man. Tell me you're alone, I'll tell you why you are. Has anyone survived that? That would leave no implications. Just the tone of the green flat one. You are the captain of your boat. They are the dead left behind. Void are the waters around and ahead. Create the required implications. Remorse and regret are for the dead. In the absence of others find your ground and face forward. Motivation you once held is now all gone. You are all the implications. Walk your path, never stop, and

The many nights wasted p retending conversations, r esulted in strength built to deal with the shitstorm your soul brings. Wasted time like our story. The light was bright and the tunnel was short, but behind were the questions being dragged like the dead bodies I could have been. Maybe I should have been. The demon is near, I can smell its stench in the halls of the traitors… those who enable the rapist of this broken soul. Why talk to empty walls? The singularity within sucks all motivation from the source of chi, leaving a hollow carcass in a fallen throne for a wretched kingdom. And I need to be understanding? The gault is melting below my feet. Sinking in it are the wishes that died, the memories built on lies, the future to never be, the hope for any remorse and the pride of resolution. It means nothing if nothing was learnt. It’s worthless if the vision remains clouded. It will never change if the heart is already rotten. May the end be a slow dance of terror and may it find you

The seemingly infinite pressure is enough to change the course of the most sturdy vessel. Today is a new day, now is a new time, and these drops are a new kind of sweat, because in order to move forward from stagnation, from the immovable position, from death, a rebirth is necessary. The new path is undeniable, so ride away, cowboy.

When all is lost, how does one find the way? When it all comes crashing down, how does one pick up after? What was left after the romans fell? Now the witness to the death of an empire, truths' unspeakable persona. As if a fallacy, yet here it is, as red as fresh blood, the truth that was never meant to be. It has reached undeniable status. Once a beautiful gazelle, now roadkill. The dead can't be brought back to life, no matter how much we try, fight or deny... The conclusion, reminiscent of the trapped body inside the filling water tank. It has reached its peak and there is no more space left for air... The soot leaves a mark. From the burning of the castles to the ashes of the fallen. It fills the lungs of the breathless and suffocates the remains of the light that once shone bright. The level of betrayal is worst than anything before. The cowards ran for their lives after setting the world ablaze. You, The Witness, will sit and let it burn. There is nothing left to fight fo

The sailor avoids the waters... he knows what lures beneath the deep blue, and fear takes over. The harrowing idea that one fish can destroy it all in mere seconds. He dreads the idea of letting go of land, but his place is in the sea. The hunter avoids the forest... he knows what crawls in the dark woods, and fear takes over. The narrow path between the trees won't hide the beast for longer. He dreads the idea of leaving the cabin, but his place is in the forest. The performer avoids the stage... he knows what fanatics are capable of in the arenas, and fear takes over. The lonesome halls will bring the murderers to light. He dreads the idea of leaving this backstage, but his place is on stage. The writer avoids all pen and paper... he knows what hides behind the words and thoughts, and fear takes over. The last attempt to recover life was unsuccessful and the ink became pray to anger and hate. He dreads the idea of leaving his mind, but his place is the paper. The lover avoids the