new / purpose / home

there's nothing new under
the sun
these words have been
written before
these feelings have been felt
before
maybe, just in different
order.
any / either way, i was sitting out at the
edge of the
earth today
staring into oblivion
when i was asked the questions,
who are you, why are you here,
and i didn't know how to answer them
so i jumped off the pier, into the swirling
waters,
the wind whipping my salty hair,
ripping my heart in two;
the wind howled, loud and muffled,
bass shaking bones, i tumbled and trembled.

it's hard facing myself in the mirror, when i'm unsure
of purpose, what my worth is,
i try to measure myself next to the ocean,
if only i could be more like her.
strong and calm and divisive and healing,
never ending.
i told her i admired her
she blushed deep green hues,
retreated to the end of the world
and rushed back with gifts of quiet chaos and
overwhelming peace -
she's captivating like that.

if you're ever confused, go to the coastline,
sink your hands in the sand, like a dying man,
and listen to the sound of God's heart surging toward you;
feel His breath - inhale exhale - dancing on your skin, shaking the earth.
look out into a fraction of His magnitude -
it's in the unknown, i find home.

april 08 / lately / air

lately, it's been a little hard to breathe - like there's not enough air in this forsaken atmosphere, all the while there being too much air; like someone i thought i could trust is pushing against my chest, pushing me into a wall, there's nowhere to run, no air to breathe, no time to think, no where, no air, no time, no; like i'm out in the ocean, when a wave crashes over me, pulling me under, i can see the sky, everything muted, the sun looks beautiful from down here, where'd all the air go, that's a beautiful bird, i wish i could fly like that, i wonder what the world looks like from way up there, it looks hauntingly peaceful and free from the bottom of the ocean, it's getting dark, where's the light going, i can't breathe, i can't breathe again, breathe, i can't, air. breathe. air. the voices - not my voice, they're not mine, or maybe they are... i don't know what my voice really sounds like - are back again; those little chatterboxes, sitting around the breakfast table talking away like every day every hour every minute is just a carefree sunday afternoon. they like to talk about failure a lot - specifically mine. they like to point out mistakes - never theirs, though, but the conversation always seems to circle back to all the things i've done wrong in life. it seems like they never quit talking, i don't understand how they haven't run out of breath yet. just listening to them go on and on and on and on and on and on and on makes me want to gasp for air. air. air, where'd it go? what does it feel like? i'm standing here, in this forest, i can see the wind dancing through the trees, i hear birds singing songs together - like a choir in a church service; they must be charismatic - i can feel the soft earth in my hands, running through my fingers, up under my nails, and yet, i feel and hear and see none of this. dear trees, what does the wind feel like, dancing on your skin? is it nice? is it sweet? little birds, what does it feel like, pumping air through your throat to usher out a song? is it freeing? i imagine it is. soft, soft earth, what does growing life feel like? does it excite you? does it give you purpose? what does purpose feel like? get back to me when you can, i would love to know.

talking is hard

talking is hard.

but metaphors are easy to share, 

because no one can be sure of who or what you are talking about.

so let me speak in riddles, the words i wish i could at least whisper aloud;

your eyes are more dangerous than a tsunami tide and i'm a little fearful of drowning.

but can you blame me? 

drowning would mean losing everything. 

i don't know if i'm ready. 

can anyone ever be ready?

my thoughts got lost in the ice and lava of your waters, so here is the treasure chest of

symbols and riddles and metaphors i've been meaning to give you

you stole my heart's map, i have yet to find my way back.

i wish i could dig up every root
of every wild rose of words planted in the garden of my chest
and hand every bloom, thorns and all, over to you,
but my tongue keeps setting the lock back on the gate.

i didn't mean for this garden to be a secret

where did these walls come from?

i wish i could take up a hammer in my hand
and swing with the power of every ounce of blood that has coursed through my veins
to break down every brick wall i've ever raised high in front of my mouth.

i wish i could gather up every "i love you" and "i miss you" and "i'm sorry" i've ever thought but never spoke out loud
into a giant bouquet of baby's breath and tie them up with a ribbon made of my heart stretched thin and hand them over to every person i was too afraid to show love to, because they deserve the world and so much more,
so here is my world - made up of all of the honest words i'm too fragile to share.
or maybe i'm just too immature and naive to share them.
or maybe i'm a little too cautious.
or maybe i'm a little too scared of the unknown.
or maybe
or maybe
or maybe

okay, i have lots of maybes. lots of dirt under my fingernails. lots of fears. lots of insecurities. lots of what ifs. lots of tangled up thoughts in a messy messy messy mind. lots of lost maps. lots of lost worlds. lots of lost words. lots of i'm not sures. and they seem to get in between my heart and other people. i didn't wish them here. i never invited them into my house of broken bones and twisted tendons. i think they decided to gradually build up over the course of my existence and now my hands are tied behind my back and, you see, they covered my face with a mask i did not choose to wear, and i don't know what to do.

i'm sorry if this is too much for you.

or not enough.

talking is hard.

but metaphors are easy to type up in black on white pages.

maybe these words aren't as clear-cut and colorful as language spoken face-to-face,

but at least it they aren't silent.

the boy who cried thunder, the girl who cried rain

there was an adolescent boy, sitting in the corner

light fractured, glimmering on the walls

his mind was swimming in the girl's ocean

there was an adolescent girl, standing against the wall

knee-high socks, overthinking thoughts

she praised the sculptor of the boy's frame

there were two fresh souls, on opposite sides of the same room

unaware of the unbearable tsunami

crashing in their chests simultaneously 

the waters rise on their own terms

there was a boy who thought too loudly

there was a girl who spoke so subtly

there was a boy and there was a girl

there were two hearts that were broken

in complimenting pieces

there were different pains felt inside that sealed

those complimenting pieces together like glue

here comes the thunder here comes the rain

here comes the love that causes incredible pain

there were scars on his arms and
there were scars on her thighs and
there were scars on their minds
there were scars on their hands and
they tried to mend each other with them

you fell on the sidewalk and broke your own heart
and all the world's words and all the world's love
couldn't put your heart back together again

there was an adolescent boy, sitting on the roof
thinking, thinking, thinking
thinking about everything [ about her ]

there was an adolescent girl, sitting on the roof
loving loving loving
loving every little thing [ about life and about him ]

there were two old souls, sitting on the roof side-by-side
and everything came crumbling down
in an array of sparks and ashes
burning bridges and words

there was a boy who understood the world too well
there was a girl who understood goodbyes too well
there was a boy and there was a girl with glass shards in their hands
there were clouds filling the sky dark and sooty

the skyline twinkled like low-flying stars
but they weren't flying low enough to latch on to

there was a boy and there was a girl
there were years that stretched before and years that stretched behind them
there was lightening flashing above them and thunder crashing around them

you fell and i fell and everyone fell
now we're drenched in salty raindrops
the ones that fell down your cheeks
now we're deaf from your screams
that leaped from your throat

there was a boy and there was a girl
who crawled quietly out of their minds
back home

fear

my biggest fear?

having my being lost in translation.

no, i am not kidding you.

i am afraid that as someone

is translating my life,

they will forget my actual thoughts,

miss a few honest words,

and only focus on making some

good story

(but if you're looking for a

good story

don't look at my life)

i am afraid that no one will

see

who i was actually supposed to

be.

i am terrified of letting my own

self down by not really

being,

which might, in a way, let others down.

i am afraid of

not being angry enough

not being compassionate enough

not showing love enough

not speaking up enough
not living enough

not being myself enough.

okay, yes, i guess i am afraid of a lot of things,

but dying before living, causing confusion in translation,
is my biggest fear.

untitled

oh
i fear a new galaxy is growing

inside of my skin

and maybe that's a beautiful thought to you

but it is terrifying

why?

have you ever birthed a supernova before?

it is not a simple task
oh

it takes strength men do not possess

it takes a new kind of brave

a new sort of simplicity

and humble bones

what if i don't own those qualities?

i don't want to tear a part a life

mine or these young stars

oh

lightening is stretching across my skin now

white and deep

thunder in the form of fears rumbling

storms of  tears pelting the floor

i think it's almost here

here comes the fire

the meteor shower

the burst 

flame

oh

Words that keep me up at night

I

I'm trying to come up with some

thing that will make you feel

like flying, but I can't locate

the right words.

II

Sometimes one small person will

walk into your life with that

swagger of an innocent, over

confident five year-old, and they 

will teach you more about the art

of story telling than any college 

professor, and they will school you

with eyes as big and bright as the sun.

III

When ever you get

the chance

to,

tell some one 

they mean 

the world to

you.

IV

You looked sad that afternoon

and all I wanted

was to fix your heart.

You lied to me and said you

were fine but I

know you too well to believe

those facade of words.

You built up walls and I'm

trying to tear them

down because I see the burden

of them pulling you apart

and that kills me.

I don't want you to 

explode.

V

Why is honesty such a pricey

necessity? Why do we have 

touchy subjects? Why can't

everyone just accept that we

are all terrible people in need

of love and five-million-year-

long hugs? How can words be

so powerful they can rip hearts 

to confetti pieces? Answer me.

Child, where did you go?

    When you were little, you dreamed of climbing trees that stretched up into the cotton-candy clouds that seemed too far away but at that same moment looked like they were close enough to touch with your slender open fingers grasping wonder. Your young imagination stitched together pictures of you running wild and free alongside cheetahs and zebras and dinosaurs, or swimming with dolphins and sharks and schools of rainbow fish, a leaping graceful arch beside a killer whale in the sea. You'd dive into the pool water every summer pretending you were a mythical/mystical/magical mermaid, the world your oyster. Your heart rate would rise at the thought of flying, writing songs along to the beat of your heart. And at one point or another, you dreamt of saving the world.

When you were little, did you ever dream you'd lose those sweet dreams?

When you grew up, you let the odds favor your fears, you let go of your giant dreams. Your childhood is now only a vague reflection in the back of your soul, those faded memories tasting strangely sweet on your tongue.
Let's put aside age and the expectations that come with those numbers, let's refamiliarize ourselves with our past childlike fearlessness and compassion, stretching our minds with tall thoughts and overflowing our deep, deep wells of souls. 

alternate ways of saying 'i love you'

How to say 'I love you' without saying 'I love you'.

I want to draw constellations on your skin, connecting the dots between your thoughts and feelings. You are an extraordinary creation. The sun and the moon and every star in the midnight sky live solely to illuminate your features, they exist to see your eyes sparkle with wonder as your beautiful mind attempts to wrap itself around infinity, struggling to fathom darkness with no end. Thank you for walking this earth and not giving up all those times you wanted to be enveloped by the night. Your eyes are as deep as the sea and looking into them is terrifying because it could be so easy to get lost and drown in the waves of your understanding, love, pain, every second of every minute of every month of every year you have lived, every story your eyes hold. Your voice soothes my heart like a honey balm and tears my soul up like a mile-wide tornado. Your taste in music is superb. You feel more like home than any physical four walls and rooftop; every story you tell is a picture framed on the gallery wall of your soul and my favorite past-time is admiring every little crack on your walls, the weird quirks and decorations, the crown molding, the ever constant changing paint and fading wallpaper; you are a strange architectural masterpiece, unusual, stunning, completely comfortable. Your smile melts my joints to nothing and builds my confidence to heights only astronauts have experienced. You are a fabulous mix of bone and undiscovered galaxies. Your laugh is contagious. Your life is contagious. Your courage, quiet confidence, love, peace, person is contagious. Thank you for being you.

I love you.

sans titre

i.

b is for bravery, which is the one thing she wants most in this word.

y is for young, which is how his soul used to feel before loving her.

g is for the grace she felt in her heart, that carried through her body dancing with him.

o is for ocean, green and deep and mesmerizing, which is how he would describe her eyes.

t is for transfixed, which is how she felt looking at him.

s is for synchronized, the way his breaths and hers went in and out together, as one.

ii.
the sky was crying earlier and i thought of
all of the days we spent
playing in the rain together.
splish splash splish,
jumping from puddle to muddy puddle,
the laughter and joyful squeals of two
little friends harmonizing with the songs
of the birds in
the trees and then, oh look, we grew up.
zap, you were gone from my life, playing
with new friends and i cried like the
sky, missing our childish song. but
hey, i moved on, just like the stormy
clouds and it is alright.
growing up is the middle of a storm
and the people that surround us are clouds
that move on.

iii.
green
are
the
trees now.
blue
are
your
eyes deep.
orange
is
the
sun setting.
transparent
is
my
heart beating.

poetry over prose is how i have been thinking lately. walls have kept me from writing my thoughts and it has been killing me, but the words are coming, slowly but surely, they are flowing.

positivity

rereading your favorite book
wildflowers
favorite tv show marathons
vanilla lattes
stuffed animals that you've snuggled with since you were six
original broadway cast recordings
morning sunshine
fuzzy socks
star gazing
coloring outside of the lines
chick-fil-a
cheap plastic film cameras
cassette tapes
handwritten letters from cool people
recess: school's out
reading a new book
striped sweaters
naaaaps
monty python & the holy grail
rearranging your bedroom furniture
spring cleaning
conversations with the older generation
tumblr
general best-friend nonsense
s'mores
stuffing your face with bacon
strawberries + pecans + whipped cream + waffles
pillow forts
waking up in the morning
your best friends and blood relations

life gets a little messy sometimes, and the ground beneath your feet will get a little shaky every now and then, which will make it hard to stand, which is okay, it's natural, and whenever that happens, jot down a list of nice things, little things, things that will help remind you that breathing is actually really great and you should keep at it. that's what i do when my soul aches.

this is who you really are

you are stronger and more confidant than the world tells you.
you are amazing.
you are.
child, let me tell you, you will move mountains. one of these days - maybe tomorrow, maybe in a year, it might even be on the last day of your life, old and gray, i don't know - but someday, you are going to do something incredible. you might not think it is all that big at the moment, or ever when it is long over, but, you see, one tiny drop of water can move and change the surface of the whole ocean. you just living, choosing to continue breathing today, is world-changing.
do not let the world tell you who you are, because the world is full of liars and thieves out to steal your personality, your life, your happiness. do not allow them that satisfaction. instead, find those rare souls who will do anything to build you up with honest words and deep love. do not let your heart focus only on the negative. turn yourself around and look at all of the good. hey, you got out of bed this morning, and that is magnificent. the world is still revolving around the sun, and that's kind of a big deal, and hey, maybe your favorite band is releasing new music soon, or your favorite book is being turned into a movie, or you got accepted into that university you've dreamed of attending; your favorite tv show is continuing for another season, summer is almost here and everyone knows that summer makes you big-goofy-smile-happy, you got a new shirt/dress/ring/tie/pair of shoes today, the small local movie theatre is playing an old childhood movie with $1 tickets tonight, that obscure band you love has music on spotify now, your hair looks superb, you found your favorite ugly sweater that you thought you had lost forever but it was just buried in the back of your closet, the barista at that little coffee place on the street corner by your house gave you a compliment on your shoes (they are really super duper cool), your all-time-favorite-in-the-history-of-ever movie is on tv tonight, you've gone all week without harming your lovely arms, you actually made a decision today (chocolate or vanilla? chocolate), your winged eyeliner looked perfect today, you landed with both feet planted on the ground after taking that ginormous leap of faith, you kept down everything you ate today, the air was crisp and it felt good breathing it into your lungs - the list could go on and on and on.
see? there is good surrounding you everywhere, you just have to look. now don't you dare tell me there is nothing wonderful in your life, because that is a dead, lonely lie. love, i wish i could sit down with you and point out to you every little bit of happy in your life; there is so much, it's all over the place, nooks and crannies stuffed with something lovely, all for you to discover.
listen to your heart. listen hard. listen to that love and hope and encouragement and thump thump thump deep within your rib cage, flowing through your bones.
you are living.
you are awesome.
you are worthy.
you are loved more than you will ever know.
you are more than your mistakes and fears and bullies and peers and anxiety and pain and past.
you are lovely and joyful and courageous and inspiring and cool, calm, collected and light and a promising future.
you are.

monotone / melancholy

the sky is grey today.
from my position sitting on my favorite old wooden chair, in front of my old desk covered in paint and words and paper and memory cards on the side of my room directly across from my bedroom door, all i can see out my bedroom window are the naked tree branches stretching their cold fingers to the heaven desperate for life, and it is honestly kind of depressing. oh, and power lines; i can see those from here, too.
tenth avenue north is playing over and over in the background and every now and then i'll sing a note or two along with them, because my lungs need to get some feelings out but they can't just say it, don't know why. i'm also trying really hard to write a letter that is so long overdue, among other things.
i have a little carousel music-snow-globe thingy that belonged to my mum when she was younger on my table and it keeps letting off high pitched notes randomly without me touching it. eerie.
life feels just like how the sky looks today.
every time i move to a different position my chair wobbles a little bit; a fairly accurate picture of my emotions right now: adjust your heart? oops, almost lost it there. hey, hang in there, sweetie pie. yeah, no, your ideas are sure failures, don't say anything. keep quiet. you're brilliant. you're dumb. life is wonderful. life is too hard. it's okay. nothing is okay. focusing on the positive voice has been an all new level of difficult.
this is life? life is messy? that's such a cliche saying. but life is cliche sometimes. i don't know, i could really go for some pizza and dark chocolate and new places and faces and summer and seventeen and five and a phone call and stupid memes to make me laugh and coffee and the ability to paint and to preach my heart and anything but now. //

you are now, because you were

you are wise now. you know between good and bad, and almost always choose good. you read poetry, and can quote cummings, frost, and five different shakespeare sonnets. you are cultured, well rounded. you are wise now, because you were once foolish. you made mistakes, but you didn't let them ground you. instead you turned them into wings of knowledge and now the sky is no longer a restraint.

you are strong now. everyday of your life, you carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. you carried both love and pain in your heart. dark circles, sleepless nights, secrets, all bottled up inside, and then you learned to let go. you are strong now, because you were once weak. you learned to love and trust and listen, and with those lessons and letting go you grew tall.

you are fearless now. point a was a long time ago, one very long jump behind. now you're here. you have brave tattooed on your wrist, placed there as a reminder to yourself that you have overcome so much. you have moved mountains. you are fearless now, because you were once afraid. you over-thought everything and never took any chances, but now here you are. wise, strong, and without fear. because you lived life and you made mistakes and you bore the weight of everything on your soul and now you are who you are, perfectly imperfect, always growing.

you are wise,

you are strong,

you are fearless.

(inspired by)