If I could love
the limping
ugly
afraid
part of me
That I drag through the mud
and thorns

If I could let
the transparent
clawing
screaming
silhouette speak
Instead of kicking it
into the basement

If I could put
my deepest human essence
onto paper
for everyone to see

Then.
Then, I could be free.

the art of making coffee
doesn’t start with what it is thought to be.
no, it’s not a mixture of beans and water
or, warm milk and sugar together—
the art of making coffee
starts with you and me.

it starts with the truth from reality
mixed with the scar of pity,
when the night creeps in,
stars from above seeps in
and all at once, everything feared disappeared,
overcome by sweet riddles of you
that appeared.

so,  from you to me
amidst this ironic actuality—
thats how you make the perfect coffee.


— you’re the (sugar) sweetness in this reality (coffee)

When you kissed me
Everything changed.

I know how that sounds.

But before I existed somewhere else
Swathed in my chrysalis
terrified of what I might be if I ever dared to leave.
To tear down that last protection.

Because no one had ever asked for anything more than my words.

I’m sorry I couldn’t seem to fathom it had been real.
I suppose that’s what happens
when you spend so much time believing
that no one sees you.
Transparency in my chrysalis
that you were breaking through.

Your lips on mine,
Promising
that you could like every part of me.
That you did like every part of me.
And not in spite of who I was, who I am.
But because of who I am.

When you kissed me, everything changed.

I couldn’t hide anymore.
I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t feeling all of the things you were feeling.
I became a kind of vulnerable I had never been before
and somehow
I was not afraid.

I was safe with you.
Your lips,
that whispered all of my favorite words and sang all of my favorite songs
and taught me to tell a new kind of story
one where I could say “we” instead of “me”
without ever worrying that you would leave me standing alone.

Your lips,
A kiss.
and fearlessness.

For once.
Fearlessness.

When you kissed me, everything changed.

I have walked through cities like a cat slinking through streets
quaking bones of ice and blood: bitter wine spilling over the pavement.
Streets that reimagine paradise with the twist of a singing blade.
Paws to upturned earth, searching prices to be paid.

I have walked through cities towing along a golden thread
linking city to city and idea to truth. Love to love.
Thread, like a promise. Thread, bright and unbound.
But bound to bound and bear what may
A fracture in my heart to say
I have walked through cities by this line
Through memorials thick and music undefined
And by and by I have learned to speak so soft
A child’s collar where our words all fly aloft
I have walked through cities along a golden thread.

I have walked through cities where there was refuge
In bums that lined the streets
Trash that gleamed and glimmered like a crown on a king’s head
whose promises, worth more than a those men’s, who left the dead
I have walked through cities.
Two that warned and waned.
A war of times and a burden’s whisper
A tale of mountainous discrepancies
those morals, thrown and lost and gained.

I have walked through cities that once seemed far away.
But closer than I ever knew and nearer than my eyes could see.
A tale of time and triumph, yet of pain and prudence all the same.
The fish still swim the alleyways
The wolves still feast in light
There is a wonder to the kindnesses
And a question of what is right.

Those cities’ stars are still unclear
Their shining beams– less bright.
Sometimes, my treading feet slow, my eyes lock on the stars
Those dusty, white, and distant things that keep me up at night,
I have walked through warring cities
Those that kept me at a stall
Forever trenched in agony, still devoted to what cause.

My cities have been people whose pasts all intertwined
my soul has held the notion that their wrongs must be my rights.
Sometimes that golden thread has pulled me back to home,
a faction in the center of the worlds I cease to roam.
I have walked through cities that held tight to my hands,
But today, I will let go of passion in those lands.

I have walked through cities, but I have made it home again.
I have walked through cities and taught my lips to say amen.

Chilly is the quake of snow in my bones
the fresh, white blanket of memories
rooted in ice.

Chilly is the ******.
the ache
the addiction
to your arms
to warmth.

Chilly is my heart when you are out of reach.
When my pining arms span out
to find only
the coldness
of chilly sheets.

Chilly is the wait–
to be warm.

to be real

I am drawn to the dripping of tears
down cheeks.
The solemnity of salty dew staining skin
red

like ink on parchment.

I am addicted to tragedy
chilly

like the ***** of a needle
the ache of ******.

I cannot tell you how it began
only that it was and is.

This enticing wonder to walk towards
the slip of loss and more.
Mossy gardens erased in rain and floods
that wipe it all away.

I cannot tell you how it was
only that it still drones on.

I am destroyed by the notion of pleasantry
the conception of goodness.
I am drunk on the thought of heartache
and wasted on love.

The mere idea of love.

I am ruined by it.

the intention
the thought
the wondering
Wasted on what if?

I cannot tell you when I knew,
only that time ceased to stall
and barreled on
like I knew nothing at all.

For a moment, I am done asking questions.
I am done thinking of tomorrows
when today’s not nearly spent.

I am useless
Floating driftwood and empty eyes
on the memory of love.
A victim to the possibility of more.

So much more.

I cannot say where I will go,
only that I cannot stay.

I am blind to breezes far away
that push me from the sun
into the winding river now
where I am drowning on my wasted words
on my tragic heart.

Upon the lust to lose and lose and lose
until I’m lost again.

The glamor of pain
the pretense of trial

I am languished by the desire for something–
something grueling.

I cannot tell you how it was
how it began– where it ends
I cannot tell you when I knew
where I will go, why I cannot stay

I cannot tell you how it was
only that it was and is.
that it still drones on.
that I cannot stay.
that time ceased to stall,

and barreled on,
like I knew
nothing at all.