by loose definition:
to build a muscle,
you must first tear it apart
and let it heal over
and over and over
and over and
over
again before it grows into
its utmost potential.
my heart is a muscle
and let me tell you,
it keeps tearing over
and over and over and
over
and over
again
and so one day it should overtake
my entire person
and spray the whole world
with scar tissue and my greatest,
biggest love.
right?

trusting tarot cards
and boys with
long, thin
hands:
just trying to make it
into some
long-term
plans.

Wipe me clean
a chalk board eraser
So close I can taste her
You're the worst I've seen
take it all one-by-one
I asked the sun
if it would heal me
I asked God to be
somehow closer.

art keeps getting
smaller and smaller
like we have
less and less time
to really create a body
of work strong enough
to break through the
barriers of the mind.

i can make a list of
the people i have kissed
and call it poetry for days i can
write an anthem on **** culture
with words i do not understand
or use

and judge my creativity
based on all my views.

there is never the right time
to sit down and syphon the
truth from your palpitating heart.
sometimes you find the time
in between the spaces of
the mundane and draw
or paint or
film or
write

something that will
take someone’s breathe away.

even if it is your own.

there is no easy way to
make a lasting impression
on a soul you don’t quite
know or understand.

but

if your heart feels lighter
at the end than when you began
then you are making

progress.

maybe you didn’t feel it
when i licked myself
off of your lips.

maybe you didn’t feel it
when i traced the back of
your knees with my fingertips.

maybe you didn’t feel it
when you rolled over in the
morning and saw how well we fit.

i knew it when you
picked the eyelash off my  
cheek because it felt like a kiss.

i knew it when you
took the long way home so there’d
be a few less seconds to miss.

i knew it when you
would wake up and leave me because
my heart would contort into a fist-

all so i’d never have to let you go.
but you would never know.

Dearest Best Friend,
Thank you
For standing by
Through all the years.
As I pushed you away,
But then months later called
To divulge my fears.

You never judged me
Or turned me away,
And you always reminded me
You were there to stay.

Sometimes I didn't deserve you.
Sometimes I acted like a ****,
But I feel you have reminded me
Real love is worth the work.

Now here I am thinking of you,
More than I have of anyone else before.
It makes me wonder after all these years,
Were you the truth in true love's core?

Muffled screams
Caged behind my lips
     Just keep quiet,
Says the voice in my head,
          *People have real problems.

to measure out lumps of beauty
divide all into equal shares
this is a task beyond reckoning
beauty is linear and beauty is broken
and each broken piece mirrors the whole
each whole expands eternally
and the present moment is the most beautiful