August 29, 2016


Hold on a minute, stop, full halt,

And tell yourself it’s all from the vault.

Once in tune, then quickly lose tone,

Voice lock, the tongue becomes stone.


Sails getting winds, but why is the water so shallow,

Where a little storm can just be busting your halo.

Try the escape route but the door no longer works,

and the self-medication no longer buries the framework.

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Stunning Runner

August 27, 2016


I should be giving out love, instead, I give out pain,

years of regret and many victories yet still this stain.

I’ll make you love me till you hate me, then push away,

Once you see behind the mask you won’t want to stay, so anyway…


Beautiful, amazing and true, but how the hell can I compare to you?


Chase the one you seek in me and find out you’ve been burned,

Somewhere between where I impressed you and then negated you the feelings turned,

Out of the fire and running straight into the freezing ice,

How many chances can be given, when do we stop being nice?


Beautiful connections, part of a failed resurrection, but how can you see me through the blue?


I want you to hate me now, make me forget your glow,

Treat me like shit now, relaxing, ahh this I do know,

If I hide here I never do have to really try and see,

If all the love and boxed up gifts are real for me.


Wonderful liar stuck in the briar patch, waiting for the fire that lights that old match.


So confusing when all I wanted to put forward was the best,

Be counted among the living with all the rest,

Yet here I sit, frozen in time like a monument to the past,

Because I am afraid what is light could never really last.


Stunning runner, medal worthy race, but in the end, it is not any of you but me I chase.

Thomas Spychalski




Dolphin Talk: Fish Out of Water August 2016

August 25, 2016


Dolphin Talk can be found on the web here and please give a second to ‘like’ their Facebook page as well! 

The kid had to be twice my size and, not knowing that in less than ten years that most people would have to look up to me quite literally as I would stop growing at a tall six feet, five inches, this kid scared the life out of me.

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Balancing Act

August 23, 2016

Behind the eyes untouched emotions swell,

Spinning lies to try and return to familiar territory.

Again we push it down for we don’t know what to do, who to tell,

Repeated madness that went from pain, to survival to mandatory.

Fighting the internal realm where both the birth and the death blur,

Horizons never to be reached because I am calling myself back with all the hurt.

Concentration focused not on the present but past then the shades stir,

To a place where my beauty and my ignorance bond and begin to flirt.

Crying out to the gods for a just a little bit of needed balance in the cards,

Experiences that will enhance my path and spark determination.

Although even when the sun rises I will break it down into tiny shards,

A blind balancing act caused by decades of self hate and emotional misappropriation

Yet I know true balance is self created within… I still feel the unbalanced ticks of time passed outside of our world.

-Thomas Spychalski



Forced Insomnia

August 20, 2016

Can’t rest and trying to keep this mind at it’s best reframed pathway of thought is tiring…

Wide awake so inhuman in a way, but every time in the blur of new awake the negative voice is conspiring…

No chemical can weaken the resolve, the days roll by without any time to let it sleep…

Cause we have spent way too long in forced stasis and we can ever go that far again into it, not that deep…


Forced insomnia,

So we can’t awaken and find,

That all those old chains,

Have again encircled your mind.

Forced escape from REM,

Cause every now and then,

From dreams comes wicked reality.


No more days waking up lonely if you never have to wake up and start on over….

No need to have to claim peace with the daily rundown, the fake it till you makeover…

Now much more time to stay, to live in the mindset of yesterday and all its strength…

Just don’t worry awake or sleeping the life always end up at the same length…

Forced insomnia,

So we can’t awaken and find,

That all those old chains,

Have again encircled your mind.

Forced escape from REM,

Cause every now and then,

From dreams comes wicked reality.

And I’m still not tired.

Thomas Spychalski


To The Muse

August 20, 2016


There is nothing I can say that has meaning, when all I’ve done is make it meaningless.

Nothing I could write that will change past actions or make them not hinder, hurt or cause distress.

No excuses, no apologies can heal pathways of thought I have caused to appear,

Because the worst kind of person is the one who pushes away what they know is kinship sincere.

I still maintain that every masterpiece has it flaws, brushstrokes that cause breakdown or give pause, and even though I am still fighting for my cause, even though I have bruised that which once was.

Because for all the resources I’ve taken for granted or abused,

The most tragic of these is how I misused my muse.

Thomas Spychalski


Weak Is Not My Name

August 19, 2016


Throughout the times I’ve busted, left out in the rain and slightly rusted, what dreams were truly trusted, to the only god we should have ever entrusted?

In and out of internal jail, the spirit inside to hail, the right to lose and to fail, could not fly on wings broken and frail.

Cause now I’m righteously angry, for once the master serves it dog, weak is not my name no more, no longer lost in fog.

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