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In his first anthology, James Rustic pens more than 60 poems as part of his work, "The Evil Within." Here's a sample of what's in store to give you a taste:

Life 

Struggling to maintain what little remains of fleeting sanity,

Feigning to understand this eternally complex sense of reality,

 I am confused by the emotions and feelings that one may hold

As loneliness returns, baring its darkness and bitter cold. 

C’est la vie.

C’est jolie. 

Clinging to the frail friendships, so very few of which still remain

After being plunged to the extreme depths of insecurity and pain,

I contemplate the injustices that have been carelessly done 

Towards those who once sincerely cared, but now are gone. 

C’est la vie.

C’est jolie. 

Praying to an almighty being who seems nothing but blind 

In an effort to release the meaningless problems dwelling within the mind,

I stress over little things that will probably never come to be,

Desiring the clarity to overcome delusions and once again see. 

C’est la vie.

C’est jolie. 

Neither solutions, nor answers will likely ever come forth

Making it apparent of how little one man is really worth.

As these situations repeat themselves and begin to grow,

With life composing new definitions of feeling low. 

C’est ma vie.

C’est jolie. 

The Definition of True Friendship

To all my friends: Those whom I see and those whom I hope to meet again soon.

As the moon rises and the warm, comforting day begins to set

I reflect upon the people in my life and all of those whom I have met.

Wondering by what hand of fate or ethereal puppeteer’s string

That I may bask in the kindness and security which you bring;

Never abandoning this confused child who dwells in the wrong,

Always willing to listen and support him when he fails to be strong.

And when I feel alone and am filled with sour remorse and pain,

You are always there to smile and allow me to somehow maintain,

The loose sense of reality for which all of us eternally strive,

Providing me with the necessary stability to prosper and thrive.

And as the night devours the sky, consuming what remains of the day,

I close my eyes, reminiscing over memories of before you went away,

But no amount of space nor time can disrupt these moments of pleasure

For I know now that emotions this deep will never come to an end

And that you provide a standard against which all others must measure,

If I am ever able to consider them to be like you, a true friend.

Last Goodbye

As the sunlight pours through the windows and falls

Upon the floor of a room with four patterned walls,

A crowd begins to gather, engaged in whispered banter.

Time rolls slowly by as new mourners continually enter,

Each one with mouth agape, faces awash in pallor,

Unmoved by the fragrance from countless bouquets of flowers.

The sun begins to fade as a line begins to hastily form

Around a piece of oak furniture that is far from the norm;

With polished brass so clear as if to reflect the light,

So that no one must glance within at its horrific sight.

Hours pass as streams of mourners grieve in their turn

Filled with guilty consciences and stomachs that churn;

For none of them feel that this time would be so soon to arrive,

Overcome with somber emotion when it is their time to grieve.

But as you look down and for the final time we make eyes,

Let your sorrow run free and remember only our good times.

Pray for the chance, my friends, that we may someday meet again,

If only God will accept my repent to mercifully reside in heaven.

But since I am undeserving and unworthy to see you after we die,

Please cherish these moments and never forget our last goodbye.