Author name: Hayden Veil

In an earlier incarnation, Hayden Veil enjoyed a successful career in software engineering, writing late-night poetry in pursuit of sanity. On 2 February 2020, the world of Hayden Veil changed: Ghosts became real and with its soul laid bare there was no turning back from the perpetual path of poetry.

Just finished a Battlestar Galactica marathon. Definately worth a watch if you havenโ€™t already seen it.

#frack

vibrations at dawn

Listen.
Listen closely.
Listen to my fingerprints
pounding those keys.
The rattle and hum
the vibrations at dawn
pleasing your inexhaustible
desire, your longing for
more.

Ignorance wore a wig

There was no physical abuse as far as I can recall, though I lack certain insights to happenings prior to reaching the age of four. What I can clearly recall, and now also brand, is mental abuse, the use of silence to wreak havoc in an innocent kid. Imagine a child growing up in an environment where one parent would decide to go silent, go into hiding, not responding to asks, for weeks at time, would that not cause harm, long lasting worries, and permanent damage to any child? Such was the reality when I grew up, suppressing the details I think I have though special events keep floating to the surface. Throwing tantrums as anyone does when growing up, was recorded; put on tape and later replayed as part of the regime of parenting. Without going into any more details I will only say that permanent damage was done, I never had the courage to ask question, fearing anger and rejection so often the result when growing up.

The realisation that sleep can be an adaptive process made him confident enough to relinquish the decision as to when to sleep to the body rather than the mind. He would stay awake until the body shut down by its own device. No harness required, most likely

The Explicit Insights of a Tormented Soul

Binary

Friendship as per the common definition, obviously stating cross sex relationship here, I cannot do it, it doesn’t work for me, somehow lacking the ability of distance and keeping things platonic, tension brewing, boiling over. I am binary, either loving you fully or
not.

a love story in B minor

She fcuking hates me
Whatever I do is
She fcuking hates me
Never enough
She fcuking hates me
Cesspit lurker and
She fcuking hates me
Charlatan stripper
She fcuking hates me
cordial despise
She fcuking hates me
all the way to the bank

not all who wanders are lost

Giving the three finger salute on
the first day of May; sunshine
reflecting on calming seas.
The House of Three Crowns
towers in the background, the
power within permeating the
lands of old, heroic stories told of
the hero of ages, the one who
walked the path, soon to show
himself to those with no doubt.

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