With no mind, flowers lure the
butterfly;
With no mind, the butterfly visits
the blossoms.
Yet when flowers bloom, the butterfly
comes;
When the butterfly comes, the
flowers bloom.

I think it's important that you know
that love was never my strong suit,
or a weak suit or a suit
I ever wore proudly. Indeed,
it stung me harshly, and I,
being clever, learned not to grasp
the thorny branch of the rose so tightly.
Like every Irish child,
learned not to slap the stinging nettles
for "biting" me.
I am fine, honestly,
but I won't pursue you. I might just
**** all the nectar out of you
until you're a skeleton,
a little shell,
a little mark on my arm of a lost you.

We were short lived
But ******* we were beautiful

i  base  my  worth
off of how my friends
treat  me,  how  many
beers i can drink before
the taste makes me sick,
and how many times i can
dial your old phone number
and listen to a stranger
remind me of how
disconnected
you are.

A toddler is a giant when standing on the highest surface in a playground.
Later, reaching the top branch of a tree means a child has reached the top of their world.
Now I'm sitting on top of 12 story building and can see the tops I thousands of trees.
Shouldn't I feel like I own the world? Like everything is tiny in comparison to me?

It doesn't. Instead I feel small and so unimportant.
I can't go any higher. There is just an empty sky above.

I guess that is the result of being above what you really are.

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.

Slow it down
breathe me in,
deeply.
Eyes closed,
skin touching,
slowly stirring,
heat rising.

Watch me want you,
feel me need you,
let tender touches bring thunder
as deep kisses bring rain.

Let your slow hands
feather-light, stone strong
trace shivers
down my supple spine,
as clustered kisses please.

Let our bodies meet
with the grace of angels
as sainted flesh
slowly, silently, succumbs
to sacred sensation
and time silently slips away.