A novelty.
Her love is pressed lilacs in your favorite book.
I’ve been in love with her an eternity of lifetimes.
If there was an I, there was a her somewhere too.
& the world needed it.
Needed her.


Her bipolar disorder makes her superman ice cream in Mid-July. The spectrum far wider than the napoleon we're accustom to. Emotions melting into each other like organized chaos. Then, converging into a supernova of empathy. An amplifier to all that is forgotten in our ability to feel. I wonder on some days how she can cultivate anything other than mania. Yet, she is more harmonic than Beethoven’s ninth symphony. Do you feel – do you feel the weight of the world, my love? Her world taste of colors. The rainbow of emotions seeping through every orifice of her body.


I’m reminded how much is lost in the translation.
How it must be to feel without a filter. Then, every cry over a stranger seems to be the somber pieces of humanity missing. A world lost in alexymethia – she is the sanity we’ve never known.

i am spinning in a sea of my thoughts,
reaching for someone to
help me,
save me,
but no one does,
and i drown.

Teach me to go
Where the sky meets the ocean,
My soul is at peace,
And my heart isn't broken.

Depression is the swamp monster,
The murk and mud in the water.
It makes it difficult to see the bottom
Or know how deep it goes.

The world warps
And goes fuzzy around the edges
Like I am not real,
A place holder or chest piece.
My limbs do not move like they are mine,
As if they are foreign bodies attached to my trunk.
The floor is the only solace.
I melt into the stiff boards and rough carpet
Until the world tilts back and becomes
Whole again.