It’s not just the places we go,
or the people we meet.
Vacations are fleeting;
friends don’t always stay.
It’s the journey we take together
through the sun and the showers.
Thank you for being my anchor
throughout the year and more.
Love,
your j-bae 🍵
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 9:25 PM UTC
<𝚍𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎>
...
<𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝>
Only a few short days...
We were laughing away on Friday
You seemed happy, not flinching
Even when our friend replied with
An Emiya Shirou meme
What killed you homie?
<<𝚋𝚛𝚘 𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎>>
<𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑>
<<𝚒’𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕. 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠>>
Sunday, your seat’s empty
Our friends all at church
Like He finally heard us
Your mom, she needs our prayers
Her spot on the front pew bare
While she holds your hand at the ward
<<𝚍𝚞𝚍𝚎... 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜:>>
<<𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗>>
<<𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝.........>>
<<𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚎 🖤>>
Mar 9, 2023
Mar 9, 2023 at 11:09 PM UTC
The nights are long but the days are longer
Only in her sleep does she exhale
The rest of the world loosening its grip
She thinks of false promises and shallow hopes
Things all too familiar by now
And swears to do better for her child
The baby on her back now a young woman too
Still her precious light and hope
"My only sunshine" in the dark
She feels her bones and flesh aching from the race
Her heart beats stronger than rising tides
An indomitable force pushing at an irrational object
And so she wakes, smiles at the sky
Fixing sunny side ups for her kin
To get by in spite of everything
is sometimes the bravest act of all
Oct 28, 2021
Oct 28, 2021 at 6:29 AM UTC
A boy, sketching
His friends, fellow neighbours, skinny dipping
This is not the first time,
but what is indeed new are the imprints
of streams, droplets;
yelps, giggles;
the force of a tumbling body,
or limbs on limbs,
shivers and waves in his very young heart.
He finds his nib forming strange contours,
fingers tracing the imprints as much as his
eyes could picture,
only to tear the paper, later,
ripping out a flat, grimacing tangle of lines,
his friend, grotesque on canvas.
Night beckons;
his sketch, made anew, alive as
he lay within burgeoning wants
that he never wished
before
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 10:29 PM UTC
O brother, tell us where you've been!
What is the world like beyond these trenches?
Is it safe to crawl out —
we heard the wolves were just 'were-' with a sweet tooth.
Won't you help us sniff out the lotus from the roses,
their thorns so cleverly hidden…
Sisters, we're tired of hiding in the dark,
our eyelids shut by the nurse's damp cloth;
To our champions: were you blessed in your travails?
Did you find the loving,
the caring,
the fabled Happy People that
Nashville balladeers croon about?
brave children, remember to return;
we dreamed of setting foot in a place of our own, too.
does one exist in their world ||
// NOT THEIR WORLD
NOT OURS EITHER
BUT ALL OF OUR
UNIVERSE //
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 2:23 AM UTC
part of my brain thinks you're a phony.
the rest of it knows we're just the same.
~
what if i were a pastor
comfort in the fear of an all-loving god
would i be hapless like a prospector
tailing the gold rush, seeking
sour grapes instead?
child, i do not pretend to live your pain.
though if i were to drop this cross and collar
all that they thought i was
would you let your story be heard?
Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 10:52 PM UTC
google was my babysitter
not a very good one i'll admit
perhaps more like a cool uncle
with infinitely scrolling treats
the more i tickled his algorithm {
search queries = seo && [freewheeling whims];
}
OR ||
stray thoughts seeking foster homes
just fronts for attention farms
reaping curiosity off the vine
while overclocking the study room
being held to father's chair like a vice
if only to keep me safe in a web
spun by a child's simple thoughts
and a sentient robot babysitter
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 5:15 PM UTC
squelched between bodies spiralling into escalators,
my trained eye couldn't help hovering a little left
right there, coming into view at the watch store,
though never caught dead anywhere near M·A·C
but neither should my stares, blatant without restraint,
fixed on a trio chattering like keys jangling
to the beat of a million other stolen glances,
only for them to slip away for some froyo.
rather than melt into a fruity confection myself,
I steel my eyes back into the spiralling masses
blocking out three gym bags marked 'WATER POLO',
my untrained heart pulses still for their suntan
and the bleachers of yesterday, the sight and sweat,
jocks jangling for position in glistening waters —
only then did I dare scream my lungs out,
safe in the crowds of a high school roar.
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 6:50 PM UTC
life from the crossroads,
meeting a blood clot
already thickened from
running sweat, a stone's
throw from a ***** four
letter word: P-A-S-T
in another stream (one
wayward than my own)
i would be he, shivering
and possibly unrepentant,
emphatically gone too
far beyond anyone's
morals.
yet in another, i live out
the dreams of the father,
or 'sins' if pure honesty
had its say. what i wouldn't
give for a beautiful wife,
obedient children, a gold
standard like this stanza's
length; prosperous--
preposterous. in my own
uncharted stream, i would
live out troye's dream. free
on the inside, eons removed
from demi's 'sober'. what
choice does one have but
to make pop stars their
patron saints? maybe
mr. a-z has the answer?
scribes and stagehands,
satirists and spirits so
wishfully kindred, i smile
in solidarity. each line a
flame of pathos, each tap
a letter in loosening of
veins, like makeshift gifts
of a medium we inhabit.
to my girl, a lady-to-be
of such unwavering faith,
love someone even when
the party's over. keep
your billie eilish close by
like a bluebird in my heart;
highwayman to highwoman.
but most of all to Him,
patient with my inevitable
candidness just as he would
if my bargain held up. if we
were in love, I might just
learn to trust myself again.
Sep 27, 2020
Sep 27, 2020 at 6:43 AM UTC
i dream of bookmarks
on days better forgotten
ink spilling over
numbness of squalor
these pages, revolving doors
truth within fiction
on sturdy armrests
hearts leaping from cliffhangers
fillers overhead
like sipping of teas
action belying motive
laughs the red herring
over second guessing
of heroes turning human
let presumptions fly
questions, swarming in
faster than the credits roll
home in a stupor
Sep 4, 2020
Sep 4, 2020 at 3:04 AM UTC