Diamond Triplet

Tell me those three words people dream of hearing. You know, those infamous ones. The ones that are the foundation of humanity; the ones that have created and shaped the society we live in. People think, and people do. Not speaking. Not eating – life in a cardboard box. Three words; three ephemeral beings floating through the thick sludge of consciousness. Aghast! Ghouls walking the streets we proclaim to call home. The very bricks we so pitifully reside within. Scrupulous, and entirely uncaring. Nature ravaged – bare! And yet throughout, the three remain…


-Chris ❤

What Is and What Isn’t

I find myself hoping,

Awash in a sense of my own wrongs.

And yet, that is not how I see them.

Because what I speak is true, utterly.

And I am a fool for thinking all things can be as one;

As equal in the night as they are in the day.

For one, and for two, it can never be the same.

A wish, a hello, a merry – maybe it’s too much.

Maybe it is not at the forefront.

I try to believe, and I try to think;

Understand where the difference is, link to link.

In what is and what isn’t.

In what might be and what mightn’t.

Is there really any difference?

Am I not deserving, not strong.

Rotting in pitiful servitude where I belong.

I don’t beg, and I don’t ask.

I sit, and await the next.

Mind fading towards the day in which there will not be.

Strong – maybe not so much then…

A Few Words

It feels like there’s no end. It feels like there’s no reprise. It feels like no place in the world is welcoming, is understanding. The same too with people.

I am not healed, cured. Don’t think that. Though the light might be in sight, I am wary it may slip away once more. Because something like this, no much how better we get, it is not something that simply goes away. We have to accept it will always be a part of us.

Nobody truly understands any other person. They never will, for it is impossible. All things are subjective, open to interpretation. This is the way of the world.

Of course the truth hurts, it always does. But being truthful to yourself is important.

The answers, nobody else has them. They reside within us. It is finding them that is the challenge, that is the mountain we have to climb.

But it should always be a mission we undertake.

On Masculinity

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about this. In fact, thoughts of late seem to be in abundance. So much so that even falling asleep at night is a challenge with my mind that is in constant motion, constant contemplation.

A bit of background: My parents split up when I was somewhere around the age of eight. It wasn’t a tear, a destruction of a relationship. It was merely a… split, a difference of ideas. And to this day it is somewhat complicated. They are still married, and they are still very good friends. Often there is the talk of it once again developing into something further. I see my dad once or twice a week, sometimes staying at his on weekends. And when I was younger it was much more frequent. So, I have never had a lack of a father, not by any stretch of the imagination.

So, what I’m getting at, is that – for the most part – I have lived with my mother and sister for the past thirteen, or so, years. Obviously this has had an impact on my development, on my psyche. Though, my family, my dad, and the other males within it – we’re not the macho type anyway, not the type to ride into the battle on the back of a testosterone fuelled Bull-of-Masculinity.

I think the line between masculinity and femininity is ill-defined, malleable, breakable – ultimately, whatever you want to make it. I do not drink litres of cheap beer while watching football. I do not sit through rage-induced boxing and UFC fights, idolising the fighters, and their physique. I am not muscular, nor do I intend to be. I do not leer at every woman I pass on the street, in the hope of ‘scoring.’ I think in general this culture of what it means to be a man is utterly cancerous. And I can’t see any rational reason why any person would aspire towards this.

Sometimes I think many times a day on what it would be like to be a woman, and on some days I even desire this. Or at least the physical aspects of it. In truth I find the female body much more attractive than its male counterpart. Not in terms of my own sexual preferences, but to belong inside, to feel and be a part of (No, not like that! Jeez…). If this makes some degree of sense. I understand the idea, and the concept of gender is a very deep, and a somewhat overwhelming field. I’m not transgender – or at least, at this moment in time I am not. In both sex and gender I am male. It is a complicated subject, and often the thoughts regarding it make little sense, and have little coherency.

I would say, I’m 90% straight, 10%… something else, something more undefinable.

Life, existence, is sometimes a fickle, and even arbitrary thing to understand. Maybe we should not try to actively understand it at all. It’s possible that all the knowledge we need and desire, will come through life being felt, and life being experienced in the fullest. Rather than some life-long quest artificially acquire it.

What does that mean for myself? Well… I’ll take each day as it comes, and each feeling as it develops. No matter whether I like it or not. I don’t want to be closed off. I don’t want to be emotionless, icy, and impenetrable. If that means I am more feminine than masculine, then so be it! Though, I like to think I pull parts from both fields, the best parts. Discarding the extremes, the misogynistic regime that lies at the side of radicalised male extremism.

Yes… I did just say that. Over, and out!

-Chris ❤

Farenheit 451 – Literature

A day or two ago, I finished Ray Bradbury’s Farenheit 451 – yes, I know I’m a little late to the party in reading what could possibly be one of the most important and influential books of the past century. But I’ve done it, at long last!

I regret not reading it much, much sooner, that’s for sure.

Not only is the book brilliant as a novel, a piece of writing. It is a prophetic and telling narrative of the future… or possibly the present. I suppose a lot of you will know and have read Farenheit 451 – but basically literature has been banned, and all remaining books are burned by ‘firemen.’ Of course it is somewhat more in-depth than this, though it is the general idea.

Now… I look at the world, at the people, and I feel a twinge of sadness. I have a few friends, (yes, friends… a shock, right!) and they do not read. I know, heresy! Having been a reader since I could actually read, I cannot imagine living in a world without books, without the words on those pages, without the worlds within the pages. What would I do when I want to enter another place, when I want to immerse myself within a plot and its characters?

I don’t have a clue… Literature is so intertwined within my life, I wouldn’t know how to separate it.

What scares me the most is a world without books, without the people who dedicate their lives to writing them. What would that place look like? More importantly, how would it survive? I don’t think it ever could…

This book made me think a lot – well, I guess that’s what all books are supposed to do. Though, of course, not all of them achieve this. And even fewer do in any meaningful way. Yet, what 451 brought to the table for me was almost revolutionary. It made me appreciate literature in a more profound manner, more than just a sense of enjoyment. For it is something we must hold close to our hearts and never let go. We must never let it fizzle and die. It is something that must be loved be all, children especially. Because literature has and will do so many things for the world. Even if we do not realise and see them.


-Chris ❤

Last Night

The fire, it burnt so bright;

In the souls of their eyes last night.

Indeterminable of what might come.

Unable to turn and run.


What a time we live in.

When we’re punished for each and every sin.

When the oppression is so brutally blatant.

Even with something such a simple statement.


Is this what it’s come to?

With hoops and hoops to jump through.

So, what might the future hold?

From here, it seems mightily cold.


We’re all human; how is this subjective?

And yet causing pain is a persons prime directive.

The pure insatiability.

The ruthfulness they attribute to their so-called nobility.


People, they cry and cry;

But others don’t find it in themselves to even sigh.

A new world so thoughtless and inferior.

Giving in to pure neglegent imperium


And this is what we must come to bear.

Rationality as thin as a strand of hair.

A life built on futile lies.

Seen by far, far too few eyes.