You were right
I was different, weird, odd
I grew up poor
My home was broken
As I’m sure yours was too
My first car didn’t come til I was 18 and in college
Paid for by a Pell grant
Alcohol drugs and violence in the home
No father to be seen
A drunk and abusive and mentally ill step dad
Clothes that smelled of cat ****
A working mom stretched too thin but loving all the same
Loved ones lost and mourned

I imagine we had more in common than we realized

I know in some ways you were trying to keep me down
But in some ways you knew that you could never
In the ways that dumb kids can know things without knowing how or why they know them and unable to articulate their truth
I was never meant to stay
You were never going to drag me down
Hard as you might try
Names, hurtful and crushing
Violence when no one saw
Hiding in shadows or in plain sight
Maybe that’s all you wanted was to know
That you could work your way into my mind
15 years later still
Still I search for an explanation
A ******* reason
A ******* apology
Something
Sure I made it out
I moved on
I left
But I still look back and ask
Why

Maybe we were just stupid kids
Maybe I’m the only one that still thinks about all those things

I do know one thing though


You can’t hurt me now

A squeal and a giggle,
a flutter and a swish -
the chase is on!

Dodging dandelions,
rolling clover.

A swoosh a whip,
almost!
Not quite!

Over there!
Now over here!

Keeping pace,
keeping wild,
erratic and momentous.

Landing briefly here
then on the nose,
flits away,
chasing butterflies.

We can’t know the wind
but the wind may know us

Writing, scribbling, scrawling
used to be my way of unscrambling my past
my scattered sense of self
my passionate desires and longing

and now

I have become still.

I do not write as much or as often.

Why?

Simply put - my life is serene and constant
and full.

Full of love, free of the demons I’ve put to bed for good, built upon years and years of sacrifice.

I am busy with my roles - Husband, Father, Protector, and Provider.

Some days I miss the crashing waves
and the practice of pain into art,
but today,
today my currents run deeper,
more subtly, strongly,
and quietly.

I hope to
rediscover the world
through your eyes,
unlock the mysteries
behind the mundane
again.

See new colors,
think new thoughts,
find the lost joy in music.

I hope to
show you, teach you,
love you, reach you,
in all our imperfect
human ways.

Read new words,
twirl words into lines,
find the perfect poem
for you.

Steady as we go,
we live these patterns,
from one day on
to the next
and on.

How unburdened are my thoughts,
how free are my intents
while I know we are a constant.

Season’s first frost
and chilling air
somehow
make our whims
even cozier,
more whole.

Life blooms this December,
how anxious we are
to hold your tiny hands,
to hear your quiet
breath.

We ride these waves,
you and I and our
lovely daughter,
steady and sure
and full of hope.

I breathe a sigh of relief
As I hear you let out a deep
And raspy breath -
The day has conquered your mind
And finally
You are asleep

I have sealed my life
Into yours
A promise to serve and cherish
To nurture and care

As you are content
As am I
As you suffer
So must I

Content in your presence
And inspired by your life
Your treasured soul

Sleep

Some days I am not who I could be -
I ignore things that shouldn’t be ignored,
don’t fix things that should be fixed,
sacrifice my health in favor of comfort.
Some days I am weaker than others -
my own worst critic, my potential is limitless,
but my time is limited.
I get so passionate
about twenty different things and
pull in twenty different directions
and then do none of it.
I’m scattered in what I want to be,
and I want to be everything.
Jack of all trades, master of none of them,
time to refocus this energy
and become one again.

Senseless
         Falling
  Soaring
       Fastidiousness
           Shooting
                      Further

A simple day, we paddle along.
Wholly unbroken and in
celebratory motions.
The water fills our shoes
and releases the worries of weeks.
Our only focus the miles ahead,
the guardian bird above,
and a man feeding fish.
We laugh and look and laugh
to be reminded of our strong
bridges we pass under and through,
leaving relics of the past burdened
and so broken.
White water turns and stalls us
but we remain,
splish splash, sore arms and
happy hearts
we carry on.

It is as you say -
that we could have never known,
never predicted the decision(s) that led
us to each other.

We have been years in the making.

There is no stopping fate's inevitable wheel.
All things come around and
we always always always
end where we belong.

Hold tight.

Life will spin and we will fall,
but you will always always always
be my home

Somewhere deep within
I've always known
it was
you.

arizona, my dearest love,
my eternal soulmate, and
partner in this life,
I have waited for you for lifetimes,
have sat patiently for your presence.
You have given my life more meaning,
more love, and more possibilities
than I ever thought to ask for.
I want you, only you, by my side.
I want you to be my support in this life.
I want you to bear our children
and to bear my name.
I want you in all your imperfect ways
and all your silly, goofy shenanigans.
You are my home, my salvation,
my morning prayers, and my sleepy goodnights.
Simply, you have completed me.

arizona, it would be an honor to stand
by your side in this life, and to do
so would make me the happiest man alive.

arizona, my love, my only love,
would you please marry me?

Face your fears with me,
and we will conquer them
together.
No more running,
no more shying away from that
which is unpleasant.
You are courageous and virtuous,
and the sum of all your mistakes
will never be the sum of all you are.
Gaze at what is harsh and real with me,
let me be your eyes,
let me catch you if you stumble -
we will both fall inevitably.
Let truth only fall from our lips,
and we will always be whole,
we will always find
a way.

I can tear myself to pieces,
it is a natural place for me.
I can and I will and I'm better
than I was but I'm worse still.
I can splinter myself and let every
doubt burrow itself into my open skin,
let the insecurities bloom into
harsh and wicked flowers,
let the bile rain into my poisoned mind.
I am precise with my agony,
following the loose ends to their end
and mine and fraying the
cord in between.
I do not mean to, but the issue
presents in its encroaching way
and I see no path but the
truth.

There are few words far and in between,
few ways in which to write,
and no way in which to capture
this love.
For I know the truth
and that we have been bound
across and through many
lifetimes.
We have given our all -
you to I and I to you -
placed our fragile hopes in
wanting hands.
I have swum
through the depths of your love,
reached no end,
yet will never drown
filled as though my lungs may be.
You are my life-blood, my hopes,
my dreams, and everything
I have ever prayed for.

When you put your words
in my mouth, they should come
out fully formed,
articulate.
No half-truths or misguided
motives to speak of.
They should embody the
spirit of what you offer so freely.
You must sound like
someone who wants
to know the depths,
speak like someone
who has tasted sorrow,
and be resolute in the face
of unrelenting tides.
They should burrow themselves
in all the places
I will make you home,
and illuminate the soul
when whispered true.

I have loved you for lifetimes and more -
we have been through many incarnations,
traveled many timelines and shed many
sacrificial tears and unnecessary pretense.
You have bore your soul in mine,
entwined our fates in loving motions,
and sealed our future in simple kisses.

I love you through realms of dreams
and into stark rains of reality,
through all that is to come
and all that is before,
and I know you love me
the same.

Little, petulant, lying boy
do not trifle in my life -
you know not of where I come,
and I have seen many of your kind.
I have faced your insecurities
where you cannot even bear to think of them.
I have seen your delusional ways,
walked your own path before you.
Do not test me, little boy.
You know nothing of what it means to be a man,
you know nothing of what it takes
to love and to protect those you love.
I would give my life for many people,
who do you care about that much?
Do not deign to consider yourself my equal,
you are outmatched in every possible way.
You take advantage, you lie, you spin deceptions,
how much of your own ******* do you swallow?
You let your darkness consume you,
you are ruled by your own falsified beliefs,
know that I have harnessed mine
and that many parts of me would revel
in the decayed and rotting flesh
of a despicable human being
six feet below.
Take heed, you ****** of the night,
this will be your only warning.

We discovered this love,
what would come to be
our love,
as one would discover a treasure.
An unthinkable blessing
washed up upon a shore
and buried by time's
relentless sands.
A laden chest full of golden
memories and heavy with
endless possibility,
unlocked and free and
all for us.
We held no treasure map,
maybe stubbed our toes,
but found it
just the same,
this eternal gift from the sea,
this eternal love.

The city is sad tonight,
these desolate roads
and dimmed headlights
take me outside of myself,
transport me to times unknown of you,
roaming down sidewalks at 2 a.m.
before I knew the rhythm of your step.

The streetlights glow orange,
coloring the sky and masking the stars,
moisture hangs heavy in the air
and it's as if I've come to know
my own personal rainstorm,
bathed in sun-fire light
and trapped in longing to see
where this long road has led.

This city is lonely without you,
a place of barren experience,
meaningless hustle and bustle,
full of gray words and gray suits
late to work in an unfulfilled place,
and so I take the short way home,
determined not to bask in this city's sadness,
aching to be in the same place
as you should one day be.

I love you
in many ways,
not just
one.

I have washed up on your shore,
risen above and into your blue skies,
heard the visions of truth and future
in the ways you call my name;
you are my soul companion.
I need you in ever-present ways,
your constant grace and kindness to be held,
an effervescent stone moored in the
ever-changing seas of our life.
I beg of you, with all of the hope that I have,
I'll place myself at your mercy,
to accept my rugged and broken ways,
please,
as you have matched my desires
and shown me what your love must hold for me.
Let me cover you under warm blankets,
enveloped in love's rough passion,
pull your being into mine,
and ******* name
as it escapes from
your lips.

The gravity of grief is
raw and mighty
and we're often caught
standing like mountains;
broken heels pressed
into pebbles,
waiting to be forged
into something solid.
Trapped in
this long exposure -
a muted stillness
from the world,
it tells us we're
accountable for our absence
like it doesn't know
it was the one that held us
paralyzed;
a hostage to the void
and without light

Yet still we rise,
we fight to capture
maybe a glimpse of light
beaming from the sky,
giving life to our
eternal suffering,
giving warmth and
drying our futile tears.
We stand taller,
than these peaks,
having been taken down
into treacherous valleys,
bleeding into the soil
our ravished skin
will eventually heal,
and on our knees
we lift our eyes
in search of the
most divine truth.

Find the hardest possible thing
you could do,
and do that,
the heaviest possible thing
you could lift,
and lift that,
the most taxing responsibility
in your grasp,
and take that on.

Do you think it is by pure chance
that warriors are forged in fire?
What of their blood sacrifices?

Challenge your barriers;
do not let them sit indeterminable.

Life is not the pursuit of happiness;
life is the pursuit of the cessation of suffering.

Do you think love is a blessing?
In some ways, perhaps,
but let's not forget the responsibility
we must bear
when another soul is entrusted to us.
What greater compliment is there than that?
To say, you, no matter your faults and troubles,
you are the person in which I will spend my life with,
come hell, come the high waters of the flood,
you are the only one I want.

And to bear children, to bring children into
a dismal world such as this,
filled with wretched suffering and anguish,
such a thing is not an act of foolishness
when undertaken voluntarily,
it is an act of supreme courage.

We are not meant to be happy in this life,
we are built for struggle,
to strive and to break through the top soil
and reach the light of day.

We must bear our cross,
however heavy,
however unfair,
and continue on.

I could watch your breath all night long
knowing within it carries all of our future,
all of the ways you’ll speak your love
into my open and willing heart,
knowing it carries the air that
gives life to the soul that I will cherish
for the rest of my days.

I long for you in the way the night
struggles to envelop the Earth daily,
in the ways in which I fear
my words will never be enough
for your crystalline heart.
I want to fall like raindrops
into your hair on Sunday morning,
when it is time for me to go,
and there are clouds in your eyes.
I have prayed for you eternally;
hold me close and I'll wrap you
into me as the daylight fades to dark.
Let us never know another lonesome night,
not until we are old and frail
and content with the life we have lived.

The rain forms rivulets
racing down our windshield,
soft whispers in the night,
promises of the things to come,
morning sons and daughters,
of life given selflessly,
my hand in yours,
writing gentle vows around your finger;
take my name and I'll bear
your burdens as you'll bear mine,
with lace and white veils,
the shields we'll use
******* and bound
across these shifting time lines
with each other
once again.

This has been an interesting year for me.
I left 2017 in a depression,
it followed on into 2018.

I completed a year's worth of coursework
for my Master’s degree.
“Master’s of Science in Software Engineering
with a concentration in Cybersecurity
and Project Management."
What a ****** mouthful.

I started a new job -
one I enjoy coming to every day,
one where I'm never the smartest person
in the room.
I get to learn so much every day.
One where I can grow and
take on responsibility.

I took a leap of faith -
made my first investment
and bought a house.

Shortly after, I took some responsibility
for something other than myself
and got a dog.

I stopped underestimating how important
people are in my life.
I repaired some broken relationships
and nurtured some existing ones.

I went through a severe bout of depression.
I found myself drinking daily,
found myself on my knees in my driveway
pleading to God,
asking why and how.
Sometimes all you have to do is ask the question.

I found myself in a state of uncaring -
completely apathetic as to whether I should live or die,
suicidal,
with my gun calling my name, whispering,
growing louder with each drink.
In a drunken daze, completely broken
and defeated,
I admitted to one of my best friends how
close I'd come,
how tempted I'd been.
She took my gun off my hands,
in keeping with a promise we'd made to each other long ago.

I have not drank since,
nor will I ever drink again.

In these darkening hours is when
I found my faith in God,
something that seemed to be there
all along,
yet was something I couldn't admit
to myself.

I met the love of my life -
something I've never been so certain of -
and it's opened up possibilities
I had only dreamed of.
Someone that there's a future with,
that chooses to grow, to flourish,
and to love.

Certainly life has more challenges in store,
the struggle, the suffering, is never-ending,
and sometimes it's all we can do to
stay above water.

This year has been one of absolute transformation,
and this December looks entirely different
than the last.

Through what fire and revelation,
what loves have scorched us so,
what vines have wrapped themselves
so sure around our feet,
what webs have we untangled,
left hanging in dusty cellars,
been left hanging on
bare walls.

What love have we longed for,
with what truth we have sought,
and seeds we have sown within
for the times which passed by
without a glimpse in our direction,
unrequited and bereft
of the dust which so dutifully
held us in place for too long.

For what is the matter
of such strife and martyrdom
in comparison to the love in which you have given,
and to what end have these things manifested
to become such stepping stones as
the things that
led me to
you.

Fallen leaves and Fall's color
brush against the longing in me,
tugging at dripping petals within,
seeing this season's change
with the absence of your presence,
without the branches of thoughts
I could plant and bear witness
come Spring.

Seasons bereft of you,
destitute in me,
and the unassuming way the barren limbs
pray to the skies above,
ask for when the grounds should again
be wet with life
and too when you should
step forth and give vitality
to this trammeled soil.

New blooms rise again,
the natural counterpart to the
decayed and rotted compost
of seasons since,
and so the sun shines longer,
brighter, and gives new hours
to your bright eyes
and seems to remind me of
the things we grow
together and the things
with which we begin this
love.

The thoughts we have in passing
manifest in our reality,
I say "There's not enough time,"
fading on the edge of sleep,
fighting against the time I cannot
be with you, feel you close to me.
You reply "There will be,"
comforting my wanting heart
or maybe yours,
and I finally slip away.

These days pass easily with you,
life is no match for how well
you ground me,
and suddenly what I've been striving for,
what I want for my future
has begun to make sense -
I've been driving toward it for so long,
wanting, burning up in my desires,
without knowing for what, who
and why.

Something about this feels different
than all else that has come before,
this is not an insecure love, no,
neither of us wonder,
we know how our nights of today
and tomorrows will end,
always with you and me
and then you
and
I.

I want to roam the city streets,
forget what we've been through,
dance under the orange beams
of streetlights casting
shadows into the night,
sway to the hum of
a melody knit into
bricks shifting underfoot.
The thrum of downtown
rises to the surface,
matching the shuffle of
anxious strolls and cautious steps.
We can tuck ourselves into
the far reaches of the lone alleyways,
hidden from the sight of the passersby,
the forgotten places where
no one else dares to roam.

In this night, tonight, and further
we may choose to lose ourselves
and find ourselves
beyond the indistinct chatter
and the natural breath
of a city soul as restless as ours.
Masked by the moonlit clouds
and distant train cars
settling in an uninhabited freight yard,
we are riding the tracks,
one step forward into the next,
teetering with the unknown.
If we are careful
we can catch a glimpse of tomorrow
looking backwards as we go,
so say you will.

Fall below the sea, if it so ails,
I will stay here to catch you.
Take me, in ways and in flesh,
wherever you so choose to go.
Do you hear how the wind cries?
How the midnight air swells,
paint me pictures with your words,
and I'll paint you in mine.
I'll show you where this attachment grows,
how the flowing motion of your body
is laid into satin robes,
and when your hips so sway into me,
let's dig into these unmannered times,
how I long to find the ways you
wrap yourself around me,
what my name sounds like passing from
your lips softly as the day's first
light gleams off your ocean eyes.
Lift me with you, I'll take you below me,
show you where this visceral dance
stays within and makes
us so true
and right.

It is time to rest,
give your burned-out heart a break,
a chance to accept something
the years have aged to be
just this -
a path to respite,
a cozy cottage and a warm pillow
to lay down your unraveling thoughts,
you are safe here.
Feel the Autumn air pass your lips,
form a cloud of mist
in the chilly air,
falling to rest upon the shape
of your body -
the peaks and valleys of this life,
the alters to pray for the future,
a place where the dreams of more
are true.

If you should fade away,
please do so, sometime soon,
perhaps tomorrow
or the next day.
Find yourself lined in time's
passages where the future rests,
woven into the moments that
are to come.
I could not ask for more,
no more than today's present moments,
no more than your smile
for a fleeting minute.
If you should go,
please, do not tarry too long,
run into the next day,
leave me to the moments past,
stuck in present times
where you have settled
and stayed,
I'll not ask for more, no,
no more than
today.

A smile plays, prances,
around the edge of your lips,
threatening to break through
while you slumber on
in mid-morning hours,
and I can’t help but ask -
what are your dreams made of?

I never want to wish days away,
but the days without you
have grown long indeed.
I fall asleep dancing
with thoughts of you,
awake with the dreams of you
falling from the tip of my tongue,
tasting the kiss
I've not yet known,
of honey and wildflowers,
of gentle soul and soft vows.
These days have me frozen in amber,
suspended animation,
watching the world idly pass,
counting months, days, hours,
until I am thawed,
until you arrive to hear
these words.

We speak these words in our actions,
tell of the things we
cannot yet
say.
Her eyes question, mine do too,
but we know.
I answer with a glance,
how I've known for so long,
of mine and of hers,
how it has carved its
spaces into my mind,
wrapped itself so snug
around my willing heart.
She tells me today,
with thoughts, not words,
the thing she'll tell me
tomorrow,
of what has soaked
into her being,
tied itself so splendidly
into her open hands,
and as such,
I do the same.

I will always have time
for your passing thoughts.
Reveal to me the laughter and
heartache of your daily life,
I will always be gentle with your soul.
Ask of me what you need,
I will give you all that I am able.
Sleep soundly beside me,
and if nightmares should come,
know that I will chase them away.

i recycle my words
stitch them rip them
tear them apart
turn them into monstrosities
frankensteins of lines
transplant them from here to there
from yours to mine and mine
to none
dead brain dead weight
fallen limbs and the
butchers table
to who or whom
do they belong not mine
let them rot decay
and fade with the times
a madman and a cleaver
cleaving clinging slinging
syllables together senselessly
sensually
torn flesh from bone
marrow and bloodletting
to purify the sickness

Now that you are finally here,
it begins to make sense
why my favorite season,
Fall,
would belong to you.
Who else could it have ever been?

I have found myself tracing timelines in the sand,
hanging off the edge of your lips
as you say my name - say it so,
as you read words you hold close
in midnight hours.
When the world has quieted,
and your voice is all I hear,
I want to be the reason your words transform,
a reason for your heart to rest peacefully
for every night to come.
Lie down, sweet love of mine,
these worlds are yours already.

I am aboard
a rudderless ship
completely lost
in your ocean eyes.

This cooling air brings peace to my bones,
settles me into the chilly night like
a leaf resting upon the soil beds of
tomorrows.

The Earth has swallowed my sorrow,
my bitter bile and writhing spirit
in the yesterdays and days
to come.

No longer do I fight for flight,
and my intentions always see the light
of truth and the open air of what’s
in store.

With open hands I have released
what it means to hold closely the thorns
of whimsy and doubt and accepted the gift
of more.

Cool comfortors on a chilly night
and body heat to soothe,
a lazy morning but a busy day,
a kiss goodbye and a kiss
to sway
into the night below the stars,
a warm and crackling fire
where Winter air meets
our skin.
A sharp word or retort in
loving candor,
an encouraging nod in the times
of doubt.
The pain and loss and the shakes
that come inevitably, and
the joy of gain and new
smiling faces.
This life with all its
complicated grief about,
these things I’d share with you.

Intractable debts against my own
observation often leads to
the crumbling of larger structures.
I’ll fix them if able, or
let them seize in midair,
choke on the ash and dust
of what is or hasn’t been said.
Indeterminate motives cage my
actions, a half or whole, an all
or not, a stutter and stop,
and trip over my own self-aggrandizement,
half-stepping into the patterns
I’ve seen before.

You are my morning coffee
and my fade into dreams.

I went to a wedding yesterday.
Saw some brothers and old friends.
A brother asked if I had
quit drinking, after denying his
pressure multiple times.
I said yeah, he immediately stopped
pressuring and asked "why?"
I told him,
something I wouldn't have done before,
"You know, I just didn't like myself
with alcohol. Plus it fed into my
depressive issues, and the cycle just
kept happening. I'm just done with it."
I left out that I'm currently in one,
no reason to explore that on a happy occasion.
But he understood, probably more than most.
Another brother and I dipped off
to have a "GTT" or
"Garbage Trash Talk."
Something we made up years ago that's
code for a brother-heart-to-heart.
We talked of loves present and past,
and what we hoped for the future.
Significant happenings.
I told him that she left for a while,
how it tore me up,
and how she's back now. He said,
"Do you think she'll do it again?
At this point I'm just
looking out for you, bro."
I told him, I said,
"I don't know, man, but
I'm willing to find out."
He accepted, knowing how I felt.
I admitted to him that I'd
"given myself up to God."
He beamed and recounted a time,
a conversation we had had some years
ago, outside of Sonic, drunk.
I had cried to him,
struggling in my faith, trying
to understand how God fit into my
life, even then.
He thanked me, it's always meant
so much to him.
I thanked him as well.
I was struggling on my drive home,
stuck somewhere between meaningless despair
and hopeless loneliness.
I had prayed.
He called me, drunk,
about to pass out,
just to say,
"Keep up the good work, man"
to which I responded,
"I'm doing my best, man."

It is in these Winter months
that I tend to grow.
When the ground is barren
and the leaves have fallen,
in the sodden soil,
amongst the muck
and silver snow,
where love toils
and the past makes mockery,
as if the acknowledgment of
my old home, cold and damp,
is not enough to take
seriously where I'm from.
Where floorboards creak,
sighing from the weight of
heavy steps throughout
the years,
the pipes freeze, then burst,
then freeze again,
and we wrap them in blankets
we would otherwise wrap
ourselves,
victims of harsh months,
cold air and throats sore
from yelling into the
weary night.

Days like today
when the world is too much,
and every sound grates against my nerves,
every responsibility weighs too heavy,
and the only comfort is in these lines,
where it is sheer force of will to move,
to work and seek and to love,
when it is much easier to fall,
to sink and sleuth
into the floor
and let it all go,
I cannot.