hard to understand
the value that people place into things.
things like forgotten photographs
or worn out tattoos.
once upon a time
you lived the moment in the photograph
or picked out (first handedly)
the colors for a vibrant piece of art
to be etched onto your skin, permanently.
it's hard to believe that
we all hold value to the things we love
much different the person standing next to us.
the fact that is that it all fades to black -
I guess it's finding value in the things that don't need color. ❤

fast paced breathing
can't keep up with my dreaming-
as long as your around

how much can you fit in a heart shaped box?
how many thoughts?
how many rocks?
how many forget-me-nots?

i wanna unfold you
peek into the deepest parts
slipping my fingertips
into the secret spots
of your soul

i wanna unfold you
touch your body with my nose
tracing lines delicately
leaving the right path
that you want

please
let me unfold you
wrap myself into the heart of you
creating the softest fireworks
that can only be felt
by explosions
of your pulse and mine

please
oh please

let me unfold you

crazy.
you're crazy
he would say
and he meant it.

crazy because
our lines didn't cross...
the intersection
that we were supposed to meet
always seemed jammed
no progress
no moving forward
the ways we were supposed to touch each other
never felt right.

two loose ends
never meeting at the same spot.
lost children
among the midst of our lives
no path to lead us back
to where we were supposed to have started.

we met eachother with anger
angry faces
misplaced traces,
lots of frusteration
and denial,
and nervousness,
instead of...
laughter.

crazy
he would say,

you believe in angels,
what's wrong with you?
you'd take the whole universe
in one breath...
you're out of touch with reality...
you believe in dreams
and seach for symbols
as if some symbol
is going to give you the answer.
life has no map,
i am your compass
and there is NO direction.
you get up
and take the world
one person at a time-
bleeding out your heart for others.
you talk to strangers
and think you've been places
you've never seen.
and yet,
you get up
and you live
and you do it again
and again-
you think this is normal?
you think you have it all figured out-
you're ******* crazy.

as the clock slows down
and i catch up to the fast pace
of my beaten heart,
as the world slows to a halt
and i catch my breath
after inhaling sparks
from fallen stars and daydreams
i've never been more certain
i am indeed...
crazy.

crazy for allowing him to capture
the best parts of myself
place them in a jar too tiny-
on a shelf that's too big,
and mislabel them
with a big *** sign that read
"DO NOT TOUCH"

i've never been more certain
that i am indeed...
crazy.

crazy for playing lifesaver
on an already sinking ship
crazy for talking to angels
in the middle of the night
crazy for grasping faith
during moments
when the whole world feels
like the collapse of
a black hole-
in the middle of spring
when everything is trying
to start over.

crazy for living
my life on the inside of his tiny jar
on a shelf that's too big
listening to him scream
getting mixed up daily,
a television broadcast
which gets inturrupted
by an emergency test

test
test

this is only a test,
and if the results show it
fine-

i'm crazy.

on the verge of something new
on the brink of something incredible
if only it were edible-
i'd serve it all to you.

the doorway stood in front of me...

for years i observed it's color

solid white wood-

it was bright enough to shine
but pale enough to be forgotten...

a single black doorknob
was it's only fixture-
leaving enough character
that i knew the door must be named-
apprehension.

knock knock
who was there?
i never got an answer.

for years i stood in front of the door
allowing it's curiosity to swallow me,
creating ideas of what might happen
if i should introduce my hand
to the twisting motion
of new beliefs,
opening that door
without a key...
would it be unlocked?

one day it had opened
without a single hand to the ****
without any kind of key
it seemed it only took some patience
and believing of what could be.

the white doors solidity had folded
right before me
my future was molded
and there
waiting on the other side
was a bouquet of flowers
with a hand written note that read:
"welcome, you've finally made it"