My mother, is my reference to everything that is beautiful in every single way. She has a smile that powers butterfly wings and heartbeats.

My mother, carried a sunset belly for nine months pregnant with stars, because she understands that stars are just far away sons. And God has used her as a garden to grow supernovas.

My mother, has helium balloon pair of arms that always tend to lift me up when I fall. With leather belt extensions to hit some sense into me when I’m wrong

My mother, taught me that the journey is great, but the destination is legendary. That God comes first and everything else next, so I put my best foot forward and look towards heavens gates.

Real life superwoman, my mother has a cape made of hope and silver, constantly flying into dark clouds so we have silver linings to hold on to.

My mother, made sure that in a black and white world that is more tiger than zebra, we saw things through shades of grey. That nobody is just bad or just good, and once in a while devils can be good samaritans.

So give everyone a chance, with pennies for their thoughts and just maybe they’ll have two to rub together.

So I promise you this mother. That I would love God and love you.

And if I’m lucky enough to find a woman half as amazing, God willing, I will call her wife.

I promise to be the man that you raised me to be, with titanium spine, a gold heart and glass eyes to see past what this world has to offer.

I promise to stop making eggshell promises that break too easily.

My mother, is a vast blue ocean, with a shoreline full of the whole world, watching her son rise.

I’ve been walking backwards into my footsteps trying to find my way home

But we’re all barefoot in the desert of lost souls

So if you end up at the house with the red door

Where the street lights illuminate the night life of familiar faces in dark places

Please tell them of me

I heard that home is where your heart is, so for now I’ll listen to my chest hoping to hear your voices.

I heard that the voices are the first part of a memory to fade. But I have tattooed your voices on my eardrums and your faces behind my eyelids, so my dreams will do you justice.

I am a product of ice boxes and broken black holes and I long for time to freeze again.

For now, I’ll sleep under blankets of memories on pillows of promises to red doors and street lights.

Sometimes, not always, I attach strings to the ends of my arrows to help give meaning to the relationships you get in.

Sometimes, you walk around with arrows sticking out of you like a human porcupine, cause the pieces of you heart are scattered like a jigsaw puzzle in your chest. I still don’t get every piece.

I have to admit sometimes I’m a pretty bad shot.

but most times you don’t let me.

Most times your either hiding with the skeletons in your closet or you leave home with your heart on the sleeve of yesterdays shirt.

You tend to lose your breath every time someone comes close enough and your butterflies have long suffocated .

Finger tip arrows to touch hearts and silk basket ears to catch dreams I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that your kind is a solar eclipsed blue moon. You don't happen that often.

You've battled impossible in rings made of bent realities. So how dare you not trust faith to be faithful.

You've developed a stainless steel philosophy, hoping if you stay still you’ll stay stainless.

But sometimes, not always, a broken compass still points north.

i never have liked uppercase i's
i know it's absolutely stupid
but they always make me feel more important than others
like i'm always saying I, I, I.

see even that was weird
way too many eyes
so i spend half my days, proofreading my lines
to make sure that i'm exactly the same size
as everyone else

when i first met you it absolutely blew me away
to find someone else who lowers their eyes
i'm serious, it's amazing to find someone who wastes as much time as yourself
hitting backspace, and
cursing auto-correct for not allowing this behavior

but after a while i noticed you stopped with the i's
maybe it was around the time **** got weird
maybe it was a fad; or i have some absurd superstition
but it's cool
You always were the bigger person, anyway.

Today I breathe, like each breath was a champagne toast to life

Today I walk around with a pocket full of pennies in search of free spirits and  cheap talk

Today I celebrate, over half a billion stories each just over half a second long

We are not always broken

Death, is a forest where family trees fall and no one is around to hear

But life, is a star growing in a back garden under tiger striped sky of night and day.

So I carry my garden in my chest, growing veins and arteries and guitar strings so each story has background music of heart beats.

If I could, I would trade in every well wish for a wishing well and make your wishes come true. Give wells to parched gardens so stars can grow.

Someone once said “What is the difference between a ****** and a coffin? You *** in one and go in the other”

What is the difference between a ****** and a coffin? Nothing, they both carry unfulfilled potential, and we are lucky not to know either.

But if I had to choose, I'll choose the latter. Knowing I have lived even for a second, is a breath worth raising my glass to.

Don't worry darling,
When I push you away,
I promise,
You won't feel a thing.

I'll be the one,
To burn in the fire,
The smoke,
Causing my eyes to sting.

I know it's for the better,
I'm a burden,
Don't you see?

I promise I won't blame you,

Who would want to be around me?

Sometimes he let his eyes rest on hers, it needn't have been painful,
but it strangely was.
He broke a lifetime of avoiding eye contact to show her.
She was worth overcoming obstacles for.