I’ve lived a dream for a few days, and I never wanted to leave.

 Sun's up. 

The moon has yet to set. 

It never seems to disappear beyond my sight, 

beyond my grasp

anymore these days. 

She's always just there.

There's a comfort in knowing the balance of the two.

A creation of a day.

The stillness in a morning, 

and the crispness under the stars. 

A few simple thoughts

 To see the brokenness, before it’s broken. To a hear the vibrations of the in between, before a crevasse exists. Knowing of the impending doom, or rather assuming the inevitable. Lack of a belief in the system, or the people in which the systems are ran, supported. Yet, encouragingly, at the same time, a protective and projecting hope on each individual separate from the systems and collective whole. Importantly, and empathetically resisting, anxiously sitting sideline, casted away from the netted norm. Momentarily feeling and sensing the foreshadowing fall of the world and existence within, standing tall at resistance no matter the cause. Alone in arms, silently stepping forward with uplifting hands. Together, one soul evolution at a time. Each experience digested and felt, just long enough to compute resTo see the brokenness, before it’s broken. To a hear the vibrations of the in between, before a crevasse exists. Knowing of the impending doom, or rather assuming the inevitable. Lack of a belief in the system, or the people in which the systems are ran, supported. Yet, encouragingly, at the same time, a protective and projecting hope on each individual separate from the systems and collective whole. Importantly, and empathetically resisting, anxiously sitting sideline, casted away from the netted norm. Momentarily feeling and sensing the foreshadowing fall of the world and existence within, standing tall at resistance no matter the cause. Alone in arms, silently stepping forward with uplifting hands. Together, one soul evolution at a time. Each experience digested and felt, just long enough to compute responsibility and the necessary personal shift. Not completely today, or in the vastness of the whole, yet, within the now seeking shelter in acceptance of growth. Engines are being tuned. Grateful at the chance of a new day. ponsibility and the necessary personal shift. Not completely today, or in the vastness of the whole, yet, within the now seeking shelter in acceptance of growth. Engines are being tuned. Grateful at the chance of a new day. 

I was once told all knowing, able to be felt and experienced love is as deep and vast as the ocean. I was then told I am stuck in the deep end of a pool. That my ability to fully love was limited to my physical self; and apparently unable to be fully received? Or simply not enough.
I don't know what's better; a warm sunny day, floating calmly on the surface of a pool. Or, lost at sea, trapped amongst the waves searching for land, desperate to be found before you drown.
Fuck you and your ocean, I'll be chillin poolside.

SCREAM!
He yells at the side of her face.
Halfway hiding
Sarcasm shields her
And
Holds the shared space.
Distracted.
With drawn.
She pulls away.
His shoulders slouch as he takes a deep,
Breath.
He's been defeated by his destruction.
He. knows it cuts deeper.
I care he tells her.
I'm sorry the words crumble from his lips.
HA!
Gotcha ya punk she laughs in his face.
She's won.
Yet again.

Discovery!

I've made a discovery!
He yells out loud as if he's became a new father.
Proud.
Full of joy.
Elated.
I've made a discovery!
He yells and yells to no one as he dances in a circle.
Can you believe it?!
It's true!
Oh my it's true!
There are and always have been four parts to
dis, cov, er, y.
Then, in that moment he stops.
His face flush.
His breath dancing within his chest.
Oh my...
He regrettably says as faint as a whisper.
What have I done..?
Dis, cov, er, y.
I was never actually complete.

Things move.
You're either in or you're out.
She rips her heart out of her chest.
I do not shy away.
We lay face to face
And kiss.

Do you ever realize that you're in control. That the world around you doesn't actually ever exist. This space. The time of the walls literally moving around you, yet you're sitting still. Completely present in the lives of those around you. Absolutely incomplete, and separate from their lives, but sharing the same moment with them. You arrive on the other end of the tunnel and nothing's changed. But you can decide to get off. And they probably won't even care.


The world turns.
She takes a deep breath.
She grabs his arm.
Never let go.

What you can control, you control well. what you can't control, you roll with as though you're dancing your way through a crowd with nothing but you and the music.
Floating along.
Mindless.
Secure.
Content on the unknown ahead, but fruitful in your decisions and your bounty. the space between control and complete chaos is simply full of interpretive dance.

A boy plants a seed, hoping for a rose. He understands that lots of sun, a gentle yet appropriate amount of water, and with some tender care, the seed will grow into a beautiful rose bush. Full of life. Full of love. The challenge that the boy is presented with however is a simple and easy way to make the bush grow into a single rose, miracle grow. Yet, every time, he will choose the sun as it kisses his face hello, and the roses bloom.

loyalty. love. support. family then fame.

we claim our actions by our intentions, yet a person is truly known, and truly loved by their actions. I answered the phone in a time of need. I listened and gave all the time that was needed. they then said thank you, I love you.

a good friend once told me, "you look way cooler than you are."

he sat back, smiled and shook his head. he knew I was in the driver seat of a car fast off the tracks.

today, we lived like kings

Defeated and broken. There's sadness behind their eyes. Hard worked. to the bone. They've put in the time, the work. They're hurt and used. Each one distracted. Contently engaged in a place other than here. The very few that are bubbling above the fill line are on a different frequency. They are more appropriate here, but don't belong. Independently alone. Hopeful destinations. The empty glasses will be filled upon arrival. I hope. Not for most. But definitely for some. We just don't wear it on our faces.

the members of an orchestra sound of chaos and dysfunction.
but when conducted into a symphony, the same chaotic jumble is the most beautiful sound in the world.

For a potter does not water the seeds, he simply eats the food.

Contextually framed, yet never claiming blame,
amongst those that have molded the clay.
It begins to take shape of what the Maker demands,
and then, it is formed.
Forever remaining the same.
The same precious piece so carefully and patiently made.
Hardened and stiff,
maintaining the mold and shape forever.
It is stone.
Its only potential to be shifted and altered,
smash and break.
Destroy what was so specifically placed together.
Build up a new foundation
piece by piece,
it becomes new.
And yet,
still beautiful.

this life. at the same time I am literally nothing, I am also completely everything.

I'll never be able to articulate it, but I now understand matter. And the oneness of the universe as our existence way beyond 'beings' but as one with the actual matter that we, us, this universe is created as. As a small grain of sand or dust of the dirt, I am connected to all that is created. I lost my reality, I lost my mind: but I found myself amongst something so much more profound than mankind, than space or the concept of an individual. I was part of the wind. Part of the earth. God's creation. I became whole amongst nothing. Amongst a complete part of everything. Yet I never lifted my head from the sandy beach. Once I stepped back, opened my eyes from what was not a dream, I stepped forward with no worry or pain. I was free from my insecurities, from my suffering. I was now able to continue forward in this life, existing in an understanding of a human being knowing my purpose for my short time here on earth.

As I walk down the street, preparing to meet my future.

So I've gotten older. Not much has changed. i've gotten more humble. I've realized I fucked up a lot. Made some mistakes. But I guess that's the difference of me being older: I now know how to become a better person. What it takes to grow. There's more to it than simply living and therefore you grow. It's humility. I have a long way to go, and I will never get there. But am constantly achieving. I request and require patience. I demand respect and love. I'm sensitive and emotional and do not have all the answers. I need attention but don't know how to ask for it. I have a strong opinion but am often afraid of being heard. Today I know that I matter. I believe that I am worthy. But tomorrow, there's a good chance I'll have doubts. Strength in numbers? Strength in admitting. Admitting is acceptance. Acceptance is painful. Poetry is truth. I get timid and afraid when people read my poetry. But I know it usually makes them smile. I am currently walking forward.

God teaches us lessons when we need them the most.

It's like a cloud has floated above me, and time begins to stand still.
I stand from my seat, a frail metal chair with wires for a back rest.
I gaze up towards the dark cloud as it begins to rain.
I find joy in the rain.
And sit back down on my thrown, waiting in the joy.

a love poem.

Roses are, well, roses. And I adore you.

freedom, ruffle, spit n fire.
unbalanced, spun, dance the wire.
chase and catch, movin about.
haste n hustle, shoot the spout.
stock for fortune, pride n lust.
no room the player, careless bust.
time proven, a magicians game.
subconscious intention, continuous fame.