His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.

Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the

Construction site.
I wanna work like this when
I grow up, he says in

Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach

And kneel down in front of
Him. So you want a job,
Buddy? I ask him with a

Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the

Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a

Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. Well, I'll see you in a
Few years, I say with another

Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,

But you can start with this
And get some practice. I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max

Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,

Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a

Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading

Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.

Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.

To anyone feeling sad right now, these are not the moments you will remember, in 5 years time when your smile stuns even the coldest of hearts, you will not remember this date and time, and you will not remember that your sorrow once tried to eat you alive and you sat and felt tears roll down your face. These are the moments that will blur and fade from your memory until you are left with the slightest haze of recollection that things were not perfect once, but the happiness you feel will drown that out until you perceive sadness as a fractured figment of a dream that visited you long ago. You are not your losses, your failures, you are the extent to which you loved, not the numbers of those who loved you in return. This sadness is temporary, your dreams, your hope, that is eternal. Be defined by your joy, it leaves deeper impressions.

Today for the first time in quite awhile,
upon my face grew a genuine smile.

It wasn't fabricated, it was honest and true
and when reality hit me I was left feeling blue.

I was so surprised, it was hard to even speak.
How long had it been? A month or a week?

My smile had faded as quickly as it grew,
but I know it'll be back the next time I think of you.

You are the shimmering moon,
You are the blazing sun,
You are the never-ending stars,
and everything infinite in between.

You are the universe.

This is for the people who know how it feels to be at lost and thrown off balance.

For the people who know how it feels to plaster on a convincingly intoxicated facade so that they can drag their vacant yet burdensome bodies around without a doubt in mind.

The people who know that their world is beginning to slowly crumble around them while they try to hold onto the remaining pieces.

People who know and cease to believe that they have the ability and courage to let go of the dense obscurity in their chests to let in the weight lifting fluorescent.

Who know that they should give up but refuse to give in.

Those are the people who know.

And are not alone.

take pictures. walk to the drug store on a crisp summer night
and buy one of those old cheap cameras. carry it like you would a child.
when you smile, genuinely, take a photo. when you feel that warm touch of the sun on your face
and the wind tangling your hair into knots, take a photo. every moment
is so precious. keep these pictures until you are seventy three
and barely remember the names of the faces you once pressed your lips to.
keep them until "film" is an unknown word.

when love is coarsing fast through your veins,
wrap your hands around the source. squeeze tighter, don't stifle your breath. don't let
your words drop like anchors down your throat. don't let the world tell you
that you're not enough. love is love. it is not a hand on your thighs or the shaking afterwards.
it is not purchased in pink giftwrap. it is whatever you make it. and even though
it may not last forever, you can only pretend that
this will be the last time you ever touch. love infinitely and exhaustively.

never let anyone's opinions or decisions
put a halt to the pursuit of your own happiness. you
are the creator of this life that you own. you were born with so much potential and so much passion
that it floods out of you like rainwater. destroy the drought. you are free to be anything
you could ever dream of, and more. there are always second chances; every moment
you feel is a failiure is only a lesson in a perilous disguise. if you are sad,
do not drown yourself in your own despair. do not douse yourself
in liquor. do not keep secrets packed away in dimly lit corners. someone loves you.
I love you. there is hope in even the places that seem forlorn.

above all else, live every day as if it is your only.
take chances.
take chances.
take chances.
never pass up on an opprotunity due to fear. you may
slip up and make a faulty choice. but in the end, your heaviest regrets
will be not getting into that car. not kissing the girl with the beautiful blonde hair.
not hugging someone goodbye, or calling them to tell them you love them in the peak of morning.
every second is more precious than money can label.
stop dragging yourself from the grasp of your sheets when you wake with a sigh- rise even earlier
to see the lavender sky and smile because you're alive and every single **** day
is a novel anxiously awaiting to be scribbled down. grab his hand
and squeeze it tighter. hold her hips and memorize their shape. never let go. ask questions.
push yourself. live.

there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than
too late.

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.