Monday, July 2, 2018

After All This Time

September 2014

         Do you feel it dripping
                                               wet as my lips 
                          -- fresh from sipping this warm tea.

February 2015

I started dating someone 

that wasn't you.

Nov 2015

The whiskey is wearing off 
And he is striking the gavel

I offer a thought.
But it doesnʼt reach him
And my words
fall into this empty tumbler 
Iʼve set spinning.

Dec 2015

You see,
I spent a lot of time walking
for the next two months.
    ---Missing the smell of oranges.

February 2016

           It is thick like the big red trees. 
                         It whispers
                                      –smoke rings that drift.                        

July 2016

The last thing I can remember really
is thinking that the door by my bed
made the room seem
bigger than it was.

My voice has gotten very small.

What an odd time to feel nothing.

August 2016


Not today
Not today 
Not today

September 2016

I spent a lot of time
with my dog.
Watching movies.
Reading books.
And running around a forest 
near my parents house.

December 2016

My life before July 
feels like all my fault a dream.

I forgot what it was like
---being here.                                      

February 2017

              It is sharp as the Liberty Crown. 
                                    Shifting like the fickle clouds.

May 2017

We were so close.
But I am glad now
that we didn't try to build us
In that field of hurt.

(It still scares me to think that I might have lost you in it.)

June 2017

I remember standing there 
watching the snow begin to fall from his mouth again.

It's funny how tired the cold can make you.

 August 2017

                                Your music
             -- a warm breath.

September 2017

We talked but my tumbleweed words 
rolled by him, 
the space between us an empty town.

It's funny how tired loneliness can make you.

November 2017

There was whiskey 
and there was 
brushing a strand of hair 
from my face.

I remember our knees were touching.

Dec 2017

              It clings like mussels on a ship. 
                              always dripping away 
                                                                 under ground. 

January 2018

I went to The Falconer 
a lot the next month 
or so.

But that ended too.

February 2018

We talked for a long while.
You shared
some of your stories.

(How have you always known how to love me?)

March 13 2018

I was so surprised to see you
I hugged you 

(And felt the room get colder when you left.)

March 20 2018

And after all this time
                                        a kiss.

April 3 2018 

My life
is crinkle cut fries
Silver music 
and you
In a Golden-Hour frame.

(Thank you)

May 30 2018 

I see your lashes 
and wonder if I will ever 
feel them on my face again.

(You were leaving in a few hours.)

June 17 2018

        Butterfly Kisses. 


Thursday, May 31, 2018

Prose and Cons


                                       You don't really know where it comes from
                       -- only that your life can feel like summer is sizzling inside you and it all starts melting.
           Can't you tell it's still Autumn?

                                        And so
                       -- the bitter blade of confusion in your chest.

           Is that why you speak of these things only in sighs and whispers?

                                        You expect the dying leaves to burn differently but instead
                       -- heavy tar starts dripping through your fingers faster than you can catch it.
           Where did the golden leaves go? 

                                       You see, it's never a good time
                        --to ask for their hands to help you catch the slipping things inside you.

           Is that why you read him poetry instead?

                                         It is hard to tell if you have been whittled down
                          -- to what you do for people.

          Is that why your humor is almost always settled in the shade (dressed accordingly of course)?

                                       You see your hands
                          -- a failed utility.

           Is that why you run?

                                       And your heart
                         --Well at least you've tried, by now, to laugh louder than    
the faulty ticking.


Sunday, April 1, 2018

Mistaken Identity

Why We Never Make it to December

You are mistaken.

          I am not a queen crowned with roses.
— It is just springtime 
in me.

You are mistaken. 

           I am not your glitter girl.
— I am mine and there is 
brightness in me.

You are mistaken

            If you think you can shake me
— and make this light fall

I felt a little inspired today.
Maybe it is the flowers on this table
maybe it is the music I've been listening to.

Sabrina Claudio - Confidently Lost
Awkwafina - Yellow Ranger
Jhene Aiko - New Balance
Kehlani - Honey
Sabrina Claudio - Orion's Belt

Saturday, February 24, 2018

Grey Matters


Today I wore a dress. 
Today my lover's kiss 
Hangs on me -a shift.
Dripping-sweat from a glass rim.
Landing-sharp leaves from this tree

 What if what I have envisioned freedom to be has made that freedom into just another shiny shackle? 
Could freedom look and feel differently than I have expected it to?
Most likely. 
So emptiness is potential. 
Then what if friendships and relationships varied, not in strength of love or security of bond, but in the way they manifest themselves? 
What if instead of partnerships being a hindrance to personal freedom it could actually open you up to a new kind of freedom? 
What if the freedom you want now and the ways in which you see it could actually be keeping you from experiencing an even greater freedom?

I'm trying to accept that life is full of grey matters while also trying to clear away the fog so I can see things as they are. 
Alongside an overwhelming desire for rest. An overwhelming desire for nothing. An overwhelming desire for true connection. An overwhelming desire for solitude. An overwhelming commitment to vigilantly spotting the beautiful small things. An overwhelming gratitude for the things that give texture to an overwhelmingly wearying life. An overwhelming desire to let go. And an overwhelming desire to always take care and be kind.

And there is an undercurrent in me that desires to stop the grey areas from filling my head with smoke and mist 
coexisting with a peaceful acceptance that being lost in the mist is a very humbling part of life.

 A reaching out for others there with you.  Even running into them headlong sometime. Or brushing past the warmth of someone else but drifting away. Walking gently and gracefully enough to not hurt someone too badly if we crash into each other. But walking with enough awareness that if I fall from a cliff I will feel it like breathing.
 To be unafraid of the fall.

Change is a truth.
So why do I keep binding myself to this illusion of control?
But how does one lose control and find balance all at once? 
It is all rather odd isn't it?

*(This is a short piece I wrote a bit ago)


Friday, February 2, 2018

A Rested Development

I've talked a lot about wanting rest.
 from the deep kind of tiredness.

 And in my search for that I have realized that there is a difference between existential rest and essential rest. 

Like the small gears that allow for the ticking of the clock vs. The shifting of the hands on the clock face as a result.

And I've been thinking about this because in the past few weeks I have been feeling more fulfilled yet
 I still end up crashing.
But  I feel I'm shifting in the clock wheel just fine.
I'm doing all the daily existential things I've found renew me.

And they do.

Just not entirely it would seem.

Because for some reason, after all of that,
I still feel Bukowski's bluebird scratching at straws
 pecking impatiently in my chest.

And I have discovered that

My Essential Rest

is Solitude.

Time to allow myself to wonder at how the wind feels as it moves through the space between my fingers.
Or taste tea or coffee with singular focus. 
Or how it feels to crunch small rocks underfoot while walking.
To rest entirely from even thought.

I suppose it is a form of meditation.
To sit in the colorful shifting lights of my thoughts and emotions and just watch them shift.
The blues and greens and purples and reds.
Not in words. Not in songs.

In lights.

 Over the last few years I have slowly been trying to move from the shame motivated living that being a "perfectionist"
 can encourage
 and into humbly accepting to coexist with a few demons or shadows of mine with a patient but not complacent approach to life.
Not defeated.
 But with the understanding that things change and that all things feel like a breath and my shadows
 will be present but do not need to be harmful nor are a lot of them inherently bad things.
 Because shadows can be shade if seen in the right light.
 And I will never live in a world where my inner life is always at its zenith. 

And true noon is not the only time life is beautiful.
Instead it is far more common
to see in yourself or in another 
 Not a fault in their or your nature
 but simply light shifting as it does.
 Like the slow lifting of a veil or like
the quick clicking and shuttering shadows
on your face while passing quickly under trees.

And even when you can't find the Sun uninterrupted
There is still wonder and kindness and peace and love and freedom
in the dripping of light through the leaves.

And to see in myself light and shadows and their ability to coexist is a hopeful thought.

Tribute : Tenacious D
Golden Green: Agnes Obel
I Want A Life For You : Saturday Sun
Stone : Agnes Obel

Monday, December 18, 2017

Stranger Feels *Spoilers*

I realized that Stranger Things is actually a really nice way to describe feelings. 
Especially the hard ones. 
I'm going to attempt to share some of these using Stranger Things gifs and pictures for funzies. 

Some of them are related to my mental health struggles and others are just because being a 20-something is just fucking awkward.
The following post is an illustration of my own personal feelings and experiences.


Because being open about mental health struggles is not about asking for pity or making excuses. I just think more people being open about it can maybe create a supportive loving community of friends and family that can actually help all involved in improving their quality of life and their relationships because many people struggle with these things and hopefully communicating these struggles in a safe place can also be a catalyst for ending stigma and supporting more research on the brain and emotions and holistic treatment options at more accessible and affordable prices or just help keep the dark shit at bay long enough to get professional help for it like:

In short I try to be more honest about my struggles because:

The Struggle (Internal):

Depression be like:

The Constant Battle:
 (From left to right)
Giving too many fucks. Can't give a fuck. Don't give a fuck.

Trying to hide and not hide all at once.

A question I ask myself all the fucking time:

How I feel listening to myself talk about anything most of the time:

And often times some prrrrrrretty dark thoughts make my world feel like:

And you're trying to hide that you're in an extended " I don't want to be here anymore" funk  like:

But sometimes you are taken pleasantly by surprised by something small and simple that makes you feel like life might be an okay thing to stick around for.

And thinking maybe you had a breakthrough but you find yourself just as fucking confused as when you started:

Because you can feel The Creeping sliding back in and you are trying not to let it like:

But sometimes the monster gets too close too quickly and you don't have time for their shit but you are barely keeping them away from you like:

Meanwhile also giving yourself some "tough-love" and trying not to give-up or whatever like:

Because you're also determined to confront yourself and the dark and misty places inside you because you would rather get eaten and die than lie to yourself or steep in self-pity or other freedom-stifling shit like that:

Because it feels fucking good even though it stings like crazy to realize you were wrong about something or realize something you don't like about yourself or where you are because at least now you know so you can try to change so you can maybe not hurt someone or yourself in the same way  again. 
Because awareness is part of true freedom. 
And changing is another part.
And I refuse to settle for a life lived in a cage.
ESPECIALLY if it is one of my own making. 

While at the same time trying to figure out the difference between normal and healthy and realizing they aren't exactly directly related and learning to be cool with your harmless quirks and other peoples quirks and living more peacefully in all of it like:

Then self-loathing boils up in you because you aren't as good and kind and thoughtful and mindful and okay has you want to be and believe in being and you feel like you are just ripping things apart by existing:

And counseling, reading books about mindfulness, trying to eat well, exercise enough, sleep enough, socialize enough, work hard enough, trying to be vigilant and aware enough and trying to bring that shit all together to make some map that might help you figure out what the fuck is going on feels like:

But even when you're strugglin' and you still manage to somehow slay at work like:

The Struggle (External):

When you're trying to communicate something heavy to someone but also trying to make light of it:

Then life happens and you have to come clean and tell your friends and family you struggle with MDD and a few other things like:

While also trying to protect your loved ones from your mind-flayer like:

And the look on her face when your mom connects all the dots and finds out her babiest one "hasn't been doing well" for a very long time be like:

The magical friends that haven't given up on you.

The friends that supports lipstick, heels, nights out and new experiences as legitimate ways to cheer up like:

When you find the people in your life that still think you're pretty even when you stop hiding all of it from them.

You trying to believe them like:

Meanwhile you're trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of your upside-down like:

And well-meaning people try to cheer you up like:

(Whoops. Didn't work.)

What I'm afraid will happen to my relationships and my life if I give depression all the things it wants because I get too tired to fight it anymore:


All the while my loving friends and family be like:

Small Victories (and the aftermath):

Getting to that social event you were anxious about going to/ almost didn't go to because you were anxious about going to it feels like:

But also leaving part way through said social event because the mental smoke and ashes shit starts happening like:

And most of the time playing DnD (Dungeons and Dragons) with my best buds is like:

But sometimes it's like:

And trying to use positive thinking to fight it somedays be like:

Coping Mechanisms:
 ( The good and the bad and the Unintentional)

Trying to do things you like and tell your always conflicted brain to fuck-off/
Trying not to feel guilty about needing to incorporate more self-care time in your life like:

Trying to do things to numb yourself / and or feel something because you just can't get it together and are angry with yourself about it and don't want to deal with it anymore.

Night in with the bubs and friends watching Supernatural or Harry Potter like: 

Lord of the Rings:

(Such Wisdom)

Early mornings and COFFEE:

When you just don't want to talk or interact with anyone at all and keep silently wishing you could become invisible but have no good excuses not to interact so you initiate operation "Lame Ass Excuses" like:

Sometimes you just start crying about fucking nothing:

Fries are my Eggos:


And sometimes I just want a hug like:

 Still fucking trying:

And maybe if I don't get too tired out all the trying will lead to:

And the thought of that is kinda: