3 am
my bedroom ceiling
i have memorized
every crack
every bubble
every paint stroke
the image of
3 am
my bedroom ceiling
engraved in my mind

the rift between
knowing someone
and
understanding someone
is only crossed with
the experience of
selfless intention
and
boundless love

blue and green wrinkles
upon a blanketed mirror.
sunlight twinkles,
it’s never been clearer.

a reflection distorted,
my fears contorted.
an ocean of love
as seen from above.

i am looking for an answer
to a question i do not know.
a thousand different pathways
with no where to go.
a dream i can’t remember,
a feeling i can’t deny.
seeking only the truth
i keep asking why?
wounded and hungry,
my soul cries out
what is the meaning
of this life really about?

i had to choose fear
so that i might remember
how to choose love.

seven billion
conscious hearts
experiencing each other
either
in love or in fear

maybe
she doesn’t know
who she is
because
all of her childhood
she was handling
the weight
of being someone else
while neglecting
the weight
of becoming herself.

i write to describe
the tales of my existence

but not even
an entire language
can put into one’s heart
the essence of experience

for my words
will form their meaning
within the mind of the other
my words are clay between
the readers hands
my writing is the blank page

wincing as memories of the past
cant help but flood my mind,
wanting to forget but
from myself i cannot hide.
a caged mind, an empty heart,
a loaded cannon aimed
toward everyone around me
except the one to blame.
ignoring never worked
the past always lived on,
within the present’s lack of presence
and the feelings of all wrong.
i tried to run to places
far far far away
from all trouble that i knew
but it followed me always.
thats not who i am,
i scream at a starry sky,
that was long ago and
so much time has passed by.
i hear a voice within
whispering my name:
she says very softly,
“widen the narrow frame.
for who you used to be
was just only a beginning
and who you are today
is very far from an ending.
for the you of the past
has made the you today,
so instead of hold regret
you can look back and say
‘i learned to change and
i learned to grow
so in every new day,
new seeds i will sow
and ill focus always on
the me of tomorrow.’”

head sinking into the pillow
memories of the day
begin to bleed out
and soak the mattress beneath.
tired sigh releasing
the rubber band from
its finger gun as i
lay my arms down
beside my body.
armor falling down
as the covers are pulled
hiding my wounded body
under a silk shelter
from the enemies of today.

when our paths crossed
at synchrony of calamity,
words penetrating my soul,
your existence a gravity.
a familiar presence,
a similar history,
we’ve been here before,
a past life mystery.
two weeks confined,
one enigmatic book,
our minds were entangled,
my heart was hooked.
my spirit was restored,
my life was reset,
our fated encounter
i will not ever forget.

leaves dance in the whispers of the wind
the voice of god carries them down to earth
silently floating toward a pavement death
one day they will blossom again
when the hand of creation enters a new season

Oh how gruesome is it
That we might stick needles in our body
And cut open our flesh
Stuff ourselves like teddy bears
And douse ourselves in chemicals
Throw our money to the wolves
Who created these grotesque rules
All in the name of consummating their fabricated illusion.

within every word i speak
you listen out of selfish intention
seeking confirmation that
the person you have conjured me to be
before even truly trying to see me
is really who i am.
you seek the validation of your own bias.

Collector of moments
tethered by time,
picking the fruits of life
for as long as I’m here.

Discovering only
after biting into:
whether sweetness or bitterness
lies on the tongue?

Taken by reverence
Standing in the presence
Of great and ancient beings.

Dressed in vines
Have lived many lives
Firmly rooted in Earth's will.

Upwards they grow
May it be slow
Follow the blueprint beneath.

Bound by the flow
Of nature's ego
Traversing the chasm of time.

i decided to change my hair,
in denial
that was the beginning
of my spiral.

stroking my long hair,
sitting in a leather chair,
pondering why i’m alive,
she asked me ‘why?’
‘it’s just too much’ was my reply.

and when it was over,
and the apron came off,
the girl cutting my hair
told me she felt
that i had a sweet spirit.

tidal nostalgia floods in
staining the sand beneath
each step i take.

i believe heaven is everywhere
above and below
within and without
heaven is not seen
but felt
it is a state of being
wherever you are
your soul touching
every particle of love
within the universe

it is painful
when you sit high above
yourself, looking down,
and begin to see
the creases of your personality
unfolding before you.
like entire chapters
of a book in which
the pages had been stuck together;
a once incomplete storyline
coming together.
one crack of the spine
and suddenly
newfound pages
are pulled apart
to reveal once hidden,
yet the most intimate,
details of a story.

I found God in the clouds
I found God in the trees
I found God in the birds
I found God in the bees

I found God in your soul
I found God in my art
I found God in your eyes
I found God in my heart.

emotionally tethered to my mother
spiritually tethered to the sun
physically tethered to my phone
mentally tethered to reality tv

and maybe love is much simpler than we make it out to be.
maybe it’s not found in the doing, in the pursuing, in the trying.
instead,
maybe love is found in the resting place that is presence.
maybe love is found in the silence that is a listening ear.
maybe love is found in the stillness that is humble acceptance.
maybe love is just..
as you are.

close your eyes
silence the mind
travel inwards
and here you’ll find
that everything is nothing
and nothing is all
listen carefully
and answer the call
of your soul yearning
to finally break free
from years of conditioning
control and suffering.

we were standing,
discussing the universe,
when all of a sudden i looked down,
on top of my right foot,
two beautiful orange wings
the universe joining our conversation.

you guard yourself
like my emotions
are nocked silver arrows
aimed at a truth deep within you,
one that you cannot bear to witness.

An empty cardboard box
In the two hands of everyone I meet.
A box I never asked for
But a box that’s just for me.

Each one a different color,
A different size, a different shape.
As they form their mental labels
The box is sealed with tape.

Like the last spark from dying embers
Leaving her bed of ashes
Floating up into the dark sky
A droplet of fire
Carried by the currents of wind
Into her next blazing beginning

you wish
to be invisible.
you envy
the very ghosts that
haunt you.

dead inside
though still alive,
you’re halfway there
i suppose.

youd have no shadow
without the light
shining behind you

i started to see the nuances
of all the love inside myself
within each absence
of what i knew i deserved.

please just know,
these walls i have built
are only to contain
some very strong storm within.

for these clouds are contagious,
this rain is relentless,
and these winds are destructive.

please just know,
these walls i have built,
serve a great purpose-
one i hope you never
have to realize.

a storm rattling my bones,
and a silence paralyzing my exterior.
stories i keep locked away,
an electric code only i can decipher.
a truth solidified into flesh,
distrust molding my shoulders.
a fear of being misunderstood,
history repeats over and over.

glossy eyes
locked in a
downward gaze,
counting each
passing crack
i step over.

a raging war
in my mind,
a battleground
upon sidewalks,
just trying
somehow
to take cover.

Each morning I rise,
I awaken to a present,
neatly wrapped in sunlight,
and gently laid upon my lap,
awaiting its grand opening.

A parcel of intangibility,
a package of inherent promise,
bound by ribbons of time,
and bestowed to me
upon each new dawn unfolding.

It is the gift I loathe,
its unwrapping I deeply scorn,
never failing to haunt me,
as each morning I’m presented
with the gift I cannot reject.

when the emptiness pervades
when the fog does not clear
when the incessant doubts
pound like drums in my ear
when the heart is chained
when the shackles are too heavy
when the ground underneath
no longer feels steady
when none of me feels real
when all of me feels contrite
when the feelings i can’t bear…
these are the times i write.

i like to believe each soul is its own special color
toned by our own unique palette of experiences
and tinted through the unique medley of our hearts.
some colors very similar, most very different, and no two exactly the same.
every color existing as innate necessity within the rainbow of humanity.

sifting through old clothes,
i enter a museum of self.
costumes of my past
hung up on display.
as i touch every fabric,
i’m reminded of each story:
the character,
the cast,
the script,
the stage.
it is the wardrobe of
a washed up actor who was
ever yearning for the applause
of her audience and
the praise of her critics.
all those years she wasted
losing herself in roles,
in the demands of characters,
now collecting dust within a dark closet.