A collection book of poems and spoken word pieces that speak directly to what it means to show vulnerability in this day and age. Laugh a little and grow a lot through introspect. A library of emotions is what is set through this latest journey from author Quan L. Jackson in "The Day I Sold My Soles". His second release, in under a year T.D.I.S.M.S. has been crafted to show through this author's lens; the world that we are living in, loving in, getting lost in, fighting for humanity and decency in.

Excerpt. (c) Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Black Suit Spider-Man

This world needs saving,

And your feelings have been ragin'

Caged in and caved in like pavements don't hold bottoms to bottom when you hit rocks.

That slide down like cavemen in monsoons in months noon of months June.

You are hero,

But you hold hurt and pain that lines its way around your mind in lines like corduroy.

(Who introduced you to the nightmares you so boldly dream?)

A war it seems.

Dismantling your smile into things that resemble shapes of spleen, turned 180.

That last metaphor is proof, that you'd rather mask yourself around putty and words, in case they shoot. Instead of saying the things that truly bother and gnaw at the soul deep inside you.

How you feel like the sky, sharing both light and a darkness inside of you.

But this world still needs saving.

You see the hurt then feel the hurt and wear it on shoulders like payments.

And it's taxing you.

3/5ths of a payment in love isn't enough to ever make you feel whole.

The other day, I saw a group of kids.

They were on bikes. Riding through the neighborhood.

There's very few things that make me smile like nostalgia.

It seemed like it was shorter than a few thousand yesterdays ago, but time waits for no man and a beach always sees visitors that take more sand, than they brought to its shores.

Doesn't it?

I mean, yesterday should be forgotten and tomorrow's should be for plotting on how I'd like to carve successes in more stones than I ever did failures for the sand only lives by demands of winds that blow them through this gauntlet, We call life. And I pray to never become too arrogant as if this beach (or life) can't wash me up again and again.

That's all it's been doing since I've been here; waking, crashing, taking more along it's coastline and I could use another hope line or a dope line to push me just a bit higher.

I swear that I love love but this world sets upon some dark desires.

One moment, I'm baring my bones, the next I'm tearing my soul into pieces to pay for the arcade games that used to show me joy.

And if I could stretch my arms like I did back then it'd be to acknowledge more than just tire. (Yawn and man am I tired)

I'd spread them so far and wide that the world would think that I could fly up, high up, or swing through more than just the neighborhoods like a spider.

I'd run to arms, where the eyes of those would light up.

I'd reprogram the mind of the mental that's so tied up and wired up and try to see more of those kind videos on the social media that makes me think this is what Jesus died for.

But I always find myself forgetting, stuck in a past that won't ever quite return. Inhaling the smoke that won't quite burn, reliving the lessons my mind refuse to learn.

I'm not- a superhuman. Just a human, strong and weak at times. In need of mercy and patience, solitude and energy.

So when I find myself without disguise in a mirror that looks back at me, when times aren't ideal and life has little thrills I hope to always remind myself that you... are the biggest hero you've ever known, because all of your battles you fought, you fought alone and those scars have never shown.