I love him. I've loved him since the time he tied my left skate in March 2013. And it's a love that aches and hurts and explodes. But it's also a love that sings and twirls and laughs for no reason. It's a love that has you crying in the bathroom on a Saturday night but its also a love that has you dancing in the shower on a Monday morning. It's a love that's left me with cramped fingers, dry ink pens and full notebooks. It's a love makes me feel like a thunderstorm. It's a love that makes me feel like a sunset. He's not a home, he's a person. A wonderful one. And sometimes people say things like, "why would you forgive him," or, "why don't you just let go." And I smile. I used to get mad but out of all the types of love this is, it's also a love that's flexible. It's not a love that waits or chases but a loves that's there. It's a love that shares shoulders and stories. If I've learned anything about loving you it has been that if I cannot love you as a lover, I will love you as friend. I will love you messy handwriting, always asleep first, bad haircuts and all. Our love is flexible. Our love is patient. Our love is what happens when you rub your eyes. It's a love that bruises and bleeds and scabs and heals. It's a love that asks, "how was your day?" And would wait patiently forever for your reply. How was your day?

i will bide my time
here,
with you my
love,
for it was you,

who came with,
the gift of love.
to my barricaded
door
and knocked gentle
and soothed my
unruly mind.

you came with a box, wrapped, in compassion
and tied with, ribbons of joy

and inside...
hope, on the wings
of butterflys.

i will bide with you,
my love,
i will bide with you.

all i remember of that night was the smoke dancing in the light of the headlights
and the sound of my heart breaking when you called her ‘the one’

i have been living off of
black coffee and celery
for the past 4 days and
i want to blame it all on
the fact that i'm young
and stupid and i will do
almost anything to like
myself again.

i can grow out of this,
right?

the bones in me
seek out the sun today
desiring of,
it's warmth and nourishment

the rest of me follows
blindly  along.
i have always been one,
to accede to need

i am done with work,
for a week or two.
so, i sit in the park
and watch the human zoo.

with the sun,
beaming down
in gentle dismay,
over the seemingly,
awkward disarray
of poeple, dogs and birds,
(mostly pigeons),scattered everywhere.

Cover me like snow.
Sweep me into your pocket.
Loose me in your sunrise.
End these faulted comforts.

Pick me above head for a view.
Take me through the tunnel.
Break down the iceberg.
It's all fresh water.

Can I walk through the door?
Maybe have a seat?
Ill stay for as long as you ask.
Faint presence in a silent room.

Tread the streets lightly.
Make me a reality of adulation.
My ear loves the patterns of your breath.
Breathe into me.

Lets walk these paths through the forest.
The unknown ones.
Just like fresh steps in the sand.
We know they are washed away.

Get lost in focused tension.
This rock of solitude doesn't move.
Fallen tsunamis on soil.
Immovable occupied space.

These days will end out of storms.
in warmth and peacefulness.
Laid down soft pillow cases.
Accept this excitability.

Use your snow to make angels.
I'm not some lint in your pocket.
Keeping me warm summer.
Faults filled. Solved.

I rarely get on Facebook anymore. But when I do, I'll change my profile picture or banner-- maybe post a witty status update, maybe not witty, just something to let people know I'm alive.

It's like repositioning the arms on a stationary mannequin to depict a different scene. Except lately I just don't care anymore. It's just that-- a mannequin. An object, an image, a lifeless entity with which I used to feel real-- a dusty mirror.

I see that the line between the idea of a person and the reality is being blurred and crossing over into something all-together different. It's as if people are starting to wake up and realize the objectivity of their reality. But that brings into question the basis for which we define reality.

We have become a, “Look but don't touch” society in which we click a button to show our appreciation as opposed to genuinely reciprocating human emotion and energy. It is extremely isolating and dangerous.

Packed subways and sidewalks have fallen eerily silent with faces illuminated by their cellphones. Most everyone wants to be heard, appreciated and recognized and social media has provided an outlet for that.

But there comes a point at which your platform becomes your prison and your voice your warden-- and everything you say is modified to be pleasing to the ear and 'likeable'.

But I like dislikes. And if you're not ******* anyone off-- you're probably not doing anything important, and if you're not outraged you're not paying attention.