New Website, Writers Welcome

Hello everyone!

So I have not been on this blog in a while. I’m sure you’ve heard a million times that 2020 has been a major hassle, inconvenience, or a traumatic experience for people. My life is no different. What I have done in the midst of COVID smoke is create my own website, Highest Caliber Writers, hcwriters.com.

Sometimes it’s hard for an artist or writer to get their work noticed. The purpose of this website to create a hub for writers showcase their work and projects for new audiences. By getting more writers to showcase their work on the site, I’m hoping to blend different audiences together for the writers to get a chance to grow their brand and be noticed. 

I’m looking for artists and writers that may have books, poetry, merch, music, videos, and anything else that requires writing that they are trying to sell or showcase. There’s also have a blog for the writers to showcase individual pieces of work for audiences to enjoy for free. 

Check out the website and writers are more than welcome to contact me from the site to get their work on the website!

I may not be posting on this blog as much, but I will be over at hcwriters.com

Thank you for those who have been keeping up with the blog. I highly appreciate it.

The Fan

Sometimes I stare at the ceiling and the only thing willing to move is the fan.

I’m floating on the bed; laying still, but slowly sinking without care.

Why should I?

The fan does what its told, but does it get tired?

Does it have to be inspired?

Does it have to multi-task with deadlines?

Or does it just spin for no reason?

Does it have to pay bills, learn skills, keep it real, and survive in this country of landfill?

Does this fan have to stay healthy , mentally and physically while the economy attempts to lure it in with filth for the sake of money and power?

Or does it even need that?

Is this fan worried about its life being taken away outside or inside of his home?

Does this damn fan even think of the future, past, and present, and try to make sense of all three internally?

Does this fan even know time?

Does the fan know obsession, deception, regression, depression…

Or does it even need to know these things?

Does it care about love? Does it stare at me as I sleep alone?

Does it care when I toss and turn at night?

Or does it just spin?

I didn’t think so.

It’s just a fan.

So the fan can keep moving.

I will not.


I still have goals to beat, places to see, and people to meet.

In a moment of lifelessness I struggle to survive in hopes that I can live again.

I sit between these walls in an attempt to escape death; so why do I feel like I’m deteriorating?

Slowly peeling away at my soul as the world around me crumbles.

Positivity is an adventure to find and negativity has my location.

A circle of support is damaged when all is in pain. How do we feel alive again in this moment?

Passions fade. Values degrade. Projects are delayed. I wish to be saved.

For a fear that I may have reached a point of no return; I see no point in my return.

Give me freedom and give me life. My soul may rise again. I just want to live.

My Palace

If you’ve played Persona 5, you will understand this blog much more, but I’ll do my best to explain.

In this game, those with strong distorted desires have mental “palaces” that you would enter to change their true hearts. These palaces symbolize the way they see the world and their desires became distorted to the point where they potentially become harmful to themselves or others.

With that being said, I asked myself, “What would be my palace? What would be my distorted desire?”

Current and past situations in my life have told me this: As much as I desire to, I can’t be the hero in everyone’s life. Sometimes my drive to be great drives others crazy. I want my loved ones to be great too, but sometimes I go too far and end up hurting them instead.

Maybe I’m too pushing? Maybe I don’t know how to slow down or give space? Maybe I don’t know how to behave when I feel like someone doesn’t want to be saved?

So with that being said, this is what I imagine my Palace, my world of distorted desire, to be.

Imagine a super hero base. Something like the Justice League Satellite or the Super Friends Hall of Justice. I am the main Superhero controlling this base. Within it are civilians in different scenario rooms waiting to be saved. I make it a habit to “save” them from a danger that either I created or was not a problem I was asked to fix.

If the civilian refuses to be saved, then they are taken from the scenario rooms and into jail cells, forced to receive mixed messages from me about the meaning of justice and helping others.

Basically, my desire is to help others, but it became distorted when I started pushing the same critical weight I put on myself, on others.

So to the Phantom Thieves, I couldn’t find your phan-site, but I’m reaching out to have my heart changed, from the fear of having my distorted desires cause the end of many friendships and relationships. I can’t be everyone’s hero.

An Ocean Unchained (Expectations)

A promise is a promise, the notion’s unchanged

The motive of motion is an ocean unchained

Expectations of life is a supposition I’ve blamed

For fate is a design that is forever unexplained

Is my potential the key or is life as random as chance?

Does hope keep me moving or is it an illusion of trance?

A prospect in life, but nothing is promised

Expectations are empty, makes it hard to be honest

Slow Down.

She told me to slow down. The best advice I may never take.

My life is a race with no debate of who’s in place.

I stare my future in the face as I’m running from my disgrace.

But my heart is beating hard and I’m struggling to keep the pace.

Too many plates in my hand; I want it all.

But when I walk I have my feet in the sand; I’m about to fall.

Heavy is the burden that I have on back.

But still, I want more, so these problems I stack.

Self-destruction is my motto. Overwhelmed is my name.

I could hit the lotto and still be playing the game.

How much is enough? What’s the motive of motion?

I’m bringing in more commotion, this shit is changing my notions.

Slow down she says. What are you rushing things for?

I’m just used to having less so now I’m starving for more.

Life is short with no reply.

People tend to say that life is short and you should reconcile with your broken loved ones. But what happens when those loved ones don’t love you back?

What happens when your constant attempts at peace are thwarted by ego, insecurity, and stubbornness? When both sides have been wronged, but one side refuses to admit that they had a place in this broken connection?

Do I just miss someone that doesn’t miss me? Do I reminiscence instead of re-create?

Miss me in life or forget me in death. Decisions are being made. Questions are being answered. Colors are being shown. Maybe I loved the old you, but something has definitely changed.

I was once family, sworn in by your words. And now I’ve felt to be considered nothing but a paragraph in your life story, although I’ve been by your side when you couldn’t pick up the pen and write yourself.

I’m not sure what to do at this point. Love is not lost, but the connection is. So what do I do with love and no connection?

Life is short to no reply. Leave me on read in life. Leave me on read in death.

I’m more comfortable in my sheets.

I’m more comfortable in my sheets.

Like an imaginative fortress, it blocks my body from the harms of the world.

Nothing can touch me. Nothing can harm me. My mind should be able to relax.

A long and irritating day in the outer world is the quickest way to bring me back to my happy place.

I’m more comfortable in my robe.

Not because I’m cold, but because the world is cold. I need warmth anyway I can get, which is inside my home with my robe.

I’m more comfortable in my hoodie.

It protects me from the outside world like a shell. I reveal nothing and I stay in hiding, moving in public as much as a ghost as possible.

I protect my body in sheets, robes, and hoodies in hope that it calms my mind.

The only issue is…what do I have to protect me from my thoughts?


I am so tired.

The screen blurs as I am forced to type for a paper due today.

My head hurts as I talk to stranger among stranger for the benefit of my job.

My body aches as I am forced to exercise for the sake of my health and life longevity.

My mind depresses as I struggle with loneliness, financial insecurities, and the feeling of hopelessness.

Am I moving with purpose or am I moving involuntarily, like a zombie with nowhere to go?

I say forced, but am I really? Who’s forcing me? My professor? My boss? My doctor? Society? Or myself?

Ambition burned to a crisp. I’m tired. I’m hurt. I crave distractions. I crave self-destruction. I crave….pain. Give me liberty or give me death. I’m tired of being in between.