My great demise;

If you don’t already know, well now you do
you will never accept love
you will never feel love
or learn the proper way to [love]
if you cannot first love

forestall the self inflicted sarrow
learn to hold your own heart
and when you look towards tomorrow
I hope you do not wait for someone else’s regard
but paint yourself into the sunset
so when the night lays thickly upon you
and heavily you may lamely be
you may close your eyes and not wish for someone else to have you
for you have become your own life’s master artistry

thus the day will dawn
when you have made your own heart whole
and when you finally exchange yours for another’s
you will not feel as though you’ve lost your soul
but as though a flower would- freshly planted in the young summer dirt


mouths drip poetry
as nails dig into uncaloused skin
their collar bones stab the grey sky
there is no sun to feed their lusterless hair
there is no house that is empty enough to call home
our souls shrink inside us
as we thirst for reality
there are no calls for justice
for what is a concept in such an impersonal world?
bodies slam into each other
with no destination
rip out my eyes there is nothing left to see
cut out my tongue there are no ears left to hear
and no words left to speak
in the end the only thing left to do
is bleed poetry


present me

Late at night
When it is just me
The dull night
And my cold lemon tea
I think of the way your love felt
And who I remember you used to be
So I regretfully recollect
How unjust my love was to you
And my heart hurts
Knowing that we are just two strangers
Who will always love
Two people
We used to be together
And that makes me incredibly sad
To be
Present me


in a moment we can dissolve from the world
though our lives seemed mere
our momentum in time is irreversible;
that of a raindrop into the ocean
disturbing the fluid flatness of that area
leaving ripples that may slow and fade
but everything, everything has now changed



I am finally realizing
life is not these big events-
and I find peace in knowing
that there is significance in everything
that it takes thousands of brush strokes,
and millions of words
to create something beautiful
each as significant to the outcome
as the