Less

Your browser window currently does not have enough height, or is zoomed in too far to view our website content correctly. Once the window reaches the minimum required height or zoom percentage, the content will display automatically.
Alternatively, you can learn more via the links below.

The outside on the inside
Steals passion for fun
When arrows come from far and wide
Facing the new shiny sun
with dignity
There are ribbons in the fire
And lives still painfully on hold
Beneath the folds of desire
The barred windows still remain cold
indefinitely
When recognition cannot be found
Or trust and pride have no sound
Then those minds roll ‘round and round
They cannot find any common ground
respectively
So the outcasts may play together
Live trapped among the barbed wire
Unmasked souls on a sorry tether
Can never form a knowing gyre
insensitivity
For when lives are flung aside
And battle is all they know
Then worth will always hide
Awake for some endless show
expressivity
The outsider on the inside
Wears the mask of the alone
In crowds of waste and glory
They often forget about Home
eternally
The outside on the inside
Steals passion for fun
When arrows come from far and wide
Facing the new shiny sun
with dignity
There are ribbons in the fire
And lives still painfully on hold
Beneath the folds of desire
The barred windows still remain cold
indefinitely
When recognition cannot be found
Or trust and pride have no sound
Then those minds roll ‘round and round
They cannot find any common ground
respectively
So the outcasts may play together
Live trapped among the barbed wire
Unmasked souls on a sorry tether
Can never form a knowing gyre
insensitivity
For when lives are flung aside
And battle is all they know
Then worth will always hide
Awake for some endless show
expressivity
The outsider on the inside
Wears the mask of the alone
In crowds of waste and glory
They often forget about Home
eternally
A drawing of Stitch from Lilo and Stitch, sent to us by Dan.
Often I try to self-reflect which turns into waves of rings around me. This picture reflects my days in general; life is static, surrounded by waves around.
The cage stands bold, with its steel-clad mesh. For within its grip, it’s us it holds. Ten foot walls, of cold creme concrete. For outside we muster, like horses in stalls.
I know you think you’re broken far too much to ever heal properly, like all those other folk that make life seem so real.