There is magic
strewn through the mind,
but instead
we stare at screens
believing in artificial light,
supporting distorted needs
only to give up
before we ever try

So I will become a one man army
charging into
silent darkness
asking the forbidden questions
allowed,
“why are we completely remiss?
So imbued in
tranquil doubt
to the point of mass
ignorance?”

“Is there underlying reason
why we are hollow?”
It is hard to retain meaning
in this war without
illuminated arrows,
guiding a way to the finish line
of our self-corrupted
sanities

A mushroom acts
as the only beacon,
showing mercy within chaos,
symbolizing an
unspoken promise
of serenity to be found
if we stop rejecting the world
and listen,
instead of sitting around
expecting everyone else
to make a difference

An inkling of
something authentic
laced in Psilocybin
decides to reminisce-
she stood there once again
brown eyed and secret filled,
a testament of time
and how it can’t heal the ill

Thought I was spent,
but it’s those days of my youth
when nothing needed
to make sense
where I traced the message
as it connects:
an answer undesirable,
still honesty none the less

Hope straightens its back
as I attempt to settle the past
and grasp at the present,
assuring that ego will learn
how to just let things happen

How to ride the
unknowable wave,
and sense these gentle
reminders
that there is no escape
because we are
simply messengers
conscious for reasons
understood
only when in symbiosis
with Mother Earth

Eight years of commitment
to file away-
I’ve never been good
at finishing tasks,
I fiddle my thumbs when asked
dramatizing a victimized
perception
to anyone who will listen
as if they aren’t suffering
in the dirt,
as if I'm special
when no one is special
because we are all perfection
reflected on earth

As a perfected being
it is my responsibility
to let you go,
to lay down the second arrow
and redirect this energy
into a meditative state,
yet my finger slips
on the bowstring
and the cushion stays
fluffed

Instantly my psyche
self-deprecates
and turbulent sensations
erupt,
over time,
and how it was spent
leading up to this exact moment
but all that arises is
loneliness,
allowing the arrow
to fall into my chest

Telling myself over and over,
"alone doesn't have to mean
lonely,
just move forward"
until the double-edged sword
cuts this perceived loss
out of my gut
and humility bleeds through
as a reminder
that we only part to meet again,
whether in this life
or a different one

A highlight of consequence
for believing in
everlasting phenomenon,
and to show value in
unlearning resistance
to the push and pull
of ocean and moon
because acceptance
heals all pain,
but to cling only strikes odds
with gravity,
forcing the second arrow
loose

The day that we declared
each other as home
is a memory I now
have to try and hone
with every mental muscle
that I possess,
and turn it into treasure
labeled with a reminder
to keep forever
so I won’t forget

Now I want to hide away
in our old backyard woods
because this dull city
is that much more mundane
with your absence,
and all I can do is stare at the spot
where you last stood,
trying to accept once more
that life is impermanent

It’s hard not to wallow
in this murky water
that once was our cuddle puddle-
a mind goes where you let it
so I attempt to focus
on your brother instead,
he is a mess but will be alright
even though nothing is right
and we will never be the same

The one thing that will last
is your grace,
as you made sure
to let us know
how beautiful life is
even when it hurts:
we keep you in spirit and name
our sweet angel, the fierce,
Princess Cheetah Sage

One step in—
the air bleeds thin,
heat curling at the walls,
lungs straining
beneath your brand—

One look—
the room sways,
the way fire bends
before it gives in to wind.

One smile—
a burning magnet,
searing my thoughts
laces undone with just a look—
knowing when to forget
how to hold back.

I meet you there—
skin against skin,
a shiver between shadows,
a heartbeat, staggered and wild.

Your mouth—
an invitation between gasps,
a tide swelling, slipping,
breath against breath,
falling further in.

Fingertips etch urges,
scrape constellations into skin,
the night between palms and sheets—
a hunger deeper than air.

You collapse,
the world now a quivering mess—
a slow-burning ruin,
softened into embers,
breathless—wanting more.

Culture runs backwards:
strength is weakness,
soft is
empowerment-
dissuade yourself from
this rampant mindset
we've placed upon thrones,
instead find reserve to manifest
and bask in
this well of fluidity
that masculinity
can never hone

Heavy lies the crown,
it is hard
be free with the wind
like a fallen leaf
and you will catch
a safe ride home
from Mother Earth herself-
even though her tread
is unsteady,
she flows

Only when you are
certain
that there is
nowhere to be
except where you are,
will you find exemption
from the urge to shape
or control

The gut
is a compass,
let it guide you to
novelty,
and what lies beneath
the surface: that is where
adventure begins,
it takes one big leap
but you will let go
until there is nothing
left to rescind