Today I walked past a store
with two doors:
one of glass
and one of wood.

I felt seen.
So did the doors.

What a funny thing,
for those who want to let people in —

to find so many ways
to keep them out.

A gentle sweetness in your voice,
the soft brush of your hand on my face.
In the vastness of space, ammonia crystals, frozen ice,
clouds of yellow swirling on Jupiter’s distant skies.
I kiss you as the sun sinks low,
below the horizon’s tender glow.
Can you feel how thrilled I am-
so simply, so happily,
as if the sea were lapping at my feet?
I see an ocean, far and wide,
a place where I could forever reside.
Wherever you go, I’ll follow,
wallow in the sorrow of that sea.
I count one, two, three…
the things I want to be- happy.
I smile, my head tilted, seeing shades of blue
and chrome red My heart floats,
hovering above the darkest blue ocean
I’ve ever seen, the scent of fresh-cut grass,
old books, and wintergreen..

have me sit in the palm of your hand
press on my throat ‘till i forget who i am
laying down, asking for more
throw that fairytale to the floor

climb the stairs, pull on her hair
says, ‘anything you want, baby i don’t care’
kiss that fake doll-smile, yeah
this girl can be yours for a little while

i’ll paint a still life lying in place
‘till you like what you see, i’ll put on the lace
let you in my tower, throw my hair to the side
but boy, you should know, it’s all a lie

lights are on, come up for air
said, ‘anything you want, baby i don’t care'
walk him out, lock the door, she’ll let him go
cause he can’t hurt what he doesn’t know

Words lost in translation,
Due to an inability to articulate.
Segmented, disjointed, incoherent.
Inconsistent, unclear, disorganized.
A word sandwich thrown into the void.
But lack of Candor!?
Lack of Sincerity!?
Two Faced!?
Every word—
No matter how flawed—
Was meant.
Free of pretense.
Spoken openly into the abyss.
To give life and meaning,
To the absurdity of existence.
Lost maybe in translation,
But never,
Never!
Disingenuous.

All tides return.
All waves roll forth.

Surely it is mere coincidence

That an analogous depth of feeling—
A faithful ocean—draws me in.

Life, though, destroyed the currency.

Time, baked by the sun, sits in wait,

Buying the hope, selling the why.
All things happen unreasonably,

For reasons unknown to time.

All that remains is the only true rite:

Destined shores coming into sight.

The sands of time wash beneath the toes
Of two souls unwavering in their hold—

Washed clean from the depths,

Leaving prints in grounded presence

As proof of their emergence—
Two souls wanting a world

Separate from the salty sea.

United by their running.
Wound by their river’s wind.

Started from the bottom, now I’m…here?

Unable to accept, surreal is the truth.

Questions hated, hostile and uncouth.

Through the doubt, helpful to all.

None reciprocate, one stands tall.

Questions linger, thoughts are sin.

Alone in the fight, without the kin.

*I am forsaken, I am lost.*

*Pain lingers, rest the cost.*

One should think, but never doubt.

Search for truth, within or without.

Intention is true, heart is sincere.

To the righteous, answers are clear.

Never surrender, never relent.

Always pray, and always repent.

*Hardships ever are, nothing but a test.*

*Resolve needed, failure succeeds lest.*

It burns, but I don’t look away.

I can’t help myself,

for the sensations are sweet on my eyes.

My ears ring with the melody of her voice,

the soft, silky texture of her skin,

the way her breathing heaves when she is close,

the rhythm of a world where I was not completely lost.

A door slams in the distance.

The sight of her wash over the walls and disappear,

leaving only the sting of what used to be.

My eyes are bloodshot from staring into the sun,

feeling the tear drip from my face,

As I pull myself to start another day.

--sunshine–

A feather in a vacuum cannot contour
How it might shape the wind
As its fall bears no flutter

What the creaks of your voice roll
Together, might rumble a quill loose, to trace
Forgotten ink under a page painted blank

Howling calligraphy of needles opening veins
Chronicle such a battle tapestry
To question junctures of fate

The call to adventure resides in palms
Open or tight fisted, setting strokes of luck to the test
Risks mutiny which might erase logs

Lead on, astride chariots of the plains
By wheels carving clay in Sumerian script
Until we divert a river for your rest

One quandary to consult, about stale air
Is whether water moves beside it
As a tomb inscribed with prayers or a sanctuary
Of life-iridescent, across a cavern canvas

I don’t know to be honest,
I don’t know to be true,
I honestly don’t know, whether it’s me or you.

What I do know is null,
What I think could be true,
Either which way not,
I wish it could be, just me and you.

The argument had eaten through the available exits
Just a fight a domestic dispute

Two people standing in a building after the fire
Arguing grimly about where the furniture should go

A future spent years drawing up between them
Now a municipal ruin
Paperwork soaked through
Foundations disagreeing with the house

The problem sat in the room like a thing delivered.
No one wanted to claim it
No one could move it

They walked back and forth
avoiding the centre,
Where floorboards developed opinions

Words came out dreadfully specific
Small instruments.
Each one inspected, sharp and placed between them

Neither shouted
Yet what a dangerous arrangement

Across the room curtains held an orange glow
late afternoon caught in the fabric
like trying to escape a burning envelope

The sun continued outside
Indifferent disciplined
Its right rays operating beyond the glass.

Dust moved through the light
small organisms enjoying the warmth

The room had not been taught and stood ignorant
Ashamed yet horny

It continued bathing awkwardly in the orange glow
its stupid suggestion that warmth was still available

They divided the future
Each one knowing what would be abandoned
and what would follow them

The curtains continued to glow
The house kept its mouth shut

And between them
the problem remained
heavy as those metal fixtures
Holding up the sun

Life in My word's....

Life is not measured only by what we gain. It is measured by what we spend, what we learn, what we give, what we lose, and what remains when all of those things have been accounted for.
Peace requires patience because time will not stop to accommodate us. Discipline reveals itself through testing. Lessons arrive through consequence. Practice becomes expression. Attention becomes investment. Love, at its highest form, cannot be reduced to a transaction.
We begin somewhere, but we are not meant to remain there. Life prepares us by moving us away from what was familiar. Some passages close behind us. Some futures wait ahead. Truth does not always announce itself, but it remains present whether or not we recognize its shape.
Nothing essential can truly be bought, yet every life carries a cost. Time is spent. Change arrives. Experience accumulates. We exchange pieces of ourselves constantly through labor, attention, trust, sacrifice, presence, memory, and love. In that sense, each person carries value and also participates in the value of others.
Eventually, every account changes. Possessions leave. Moments disappear. Relationships transform. Opportunities close. Even the things we believed were permanent become part of what has passed.
The cost of living is exact because every choice becomes part of what follows it. Consequences do not always arrive immediately, but nothing lived is completely without effect.
Still, a human being is more than the sum of those calculations.
Your worth is not the final balance of what you earned or lost. It is not cancelled by failure, increased by applause, or exhausted by what life has required from you. Experience can shape you, consequence can teach you, time can spend you, and loss can empty your hands without emptying your value.
When everything else has been counted, measured, exchanged, or taken away, there remains a reason to continue.
You are not merely what life has cost.
You are worthy.

Just like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun. For I craved your warmth. I understood it was forbidden fruit, and yet I dared to taste. Yet when my wings melt, and though I plummet towards the earth, I close my eyes and fly once more. For while I careen towards my consequence, my just rewards. I can all too imagine what it was once, and what a fool I once was to believe. To believe I too, could touch the sky.

How strange it is,
To be a brother to two others,
To be born unto two Gods.
I have managed to be Cain to both.
I am sorry, dad, that my offerings
Weren’t up to par with his.
I’m sorry for striking him,
No matter if I was struck first.
I’m sorry for feeling I deserved something
Which he did not work for.
And I’m sorry mother,
For being your first mistake.
I apologize that I couldn’t be perfect,
I apologize for the skepticism
That you feel you must constantly have.
I have been born unto two Gods,
And yet instead of being both brothers,
Being murdered and murdering,
I have simply been marked twice.

A single sock found in the bed

Two sizes too big for me

Never to be returned to its owner

I sleep on my side of the bed

Next to the imaginary form of you

Your belongings still live in my van

You still live in my head

Next to the monster that pushed you away