That’s what makes up the fibers of the desk at which I sit. My thoughts rampant, as I’m left staring at the light brown textures; forever lost within their sporadic rings. Trapped.

The outside world is fading from my mind, as events and tribulations overwhelm my being. Question, fired by the fuel of doubt, is embedded in the forefront of these conceptual images.

Is it fixable? Is any of it within the realm of repair? Continue reading

The Untold – Dark Poetry by Adam Gainer

The Untold


I don’t know why I let this seep,

Inside of me, it cuts so deep,

This outside perception that feeds me so sweet,

Has created a feeling of coals on bare-feet,

Continue reading