One hundred and fifty two posts in 2 weeks
a small camera surrounded by a sea of pink
is to blame
and be praised

Crisper, clearer, views of how I see the world,
easier than ever to see through my lens
my POV
picture it

Foot prints in the snow, beer pong, Dustin Lynch
retro diners, favorite TV shows, and hiking trips
this is me
easy to see

Words can be hard to find, ideas to describe
Hard to share your life with no one around
here's Instagram
post away.

Hands on your shoulders
eyes closed and attempting
to follow the flow of your body
with each step I faithfully
plunge my feet
into where yours must
have been only a moment ago.

I gently tinge each finger of mine
so subtly that I wonder if you even noticed--
it's a habit of mine
where I need to stretch my hands
to find some focus.
It didn't really help
since I have my eyes closed,
although I do feel less
lost in this empty space.

Did you know that your body hums
I could feel it radiating in the cracks
between each finger--
more likely it was my anxiousness
of floating through the galaxy
with you as my only guide.
Honestly I began to
wonder where we are going.

Stopping my silence
I lean closely to what
I am assuming is your ear
and whisper, "you didn't tell me
we'd be walking so far"
your reply was sarcastic as usual,
"Oh, sorry didn't know
you would make us walk so slow"
with the usual eye-rolling chuckle.

Suddenly you stop
and because of how flustered
your response made me
I misstep and glide into your back
and before I can even see from behind you
an earthquake of sound explodes
"surprise!!!"...."happy birthday!!!!!"

My own eyes betray me.
They fight down any chance of peace.
I approach you as a friend, and they ******* into foe.
Scatter my handshake into reproach.

I promise, my intentions are clean
Even if they give you ***** looks.
If there’s one person you can’t trust
It’s that ****** that sits at your emotional steering wheel.

He looks like you
Dresses like you
Sounds like you
Everyone thinks he IS you.
He’ll take any ******* chance he’s got to drive you into brick walls
And bail for you to take the blame, 


Nothing but a dopple-ganger
Trying to justify the actions of a psychopath
Who stays out of sight
Convenient, 
I’ll always take the fall.

Oh my love,
With your endless
Beauty,
Charisma,
and Personality
Can we spawn
The birds of love
This great day.
We are unable to grasp
Anything ending
What we hold dear,
So please treasure my heart
And treat it with care

My love,
What broke you?
You are afraid to come
Out your depressed shadow
Afraid to show me that smile
Too tired to even laugh
Your beauty is no longer shown
In the crevice of you loud personality
I miss it.

I'm hard to handle;
like a shot of *****
I burn on the way down
and only some will come back
for seconds –
because my kindness
does not make me
easier to swallow.
I'm an acquired taste
for a specific breed.
No one can take me
in large doses,
a teaspoon a day
goes a long way.
Alcohol never came
with a recommended
serving size.
I'm a glass of water
in disguise –
so please,
drink slowly.

I am told don't be loud, don't ever be angry, don't be outspoken.
I am told be soft, be calm, be quiet.
But I am a wildfire, I burn, I ravage.
I cannot, no, I will not be just a contained, flickering flame.
I refuse to be smothered, I refuse to be put out.
Though I may incinerate, might leave things scorched and blackened, I am also light, I am incandescent, I am effervescent.
And so I will set things aflame, watch me ignite.
This is who I am.
I am a wildfire.
And I shall burn.

Mr. Nobody--
A wrangly thing
some could call him a snob
or a high chinned minister
who was ordained
with a polished Apple-Phone
and his signature
swirlesque embroidered
wrist cuffs and tie clip.

He is the founder
to any computer based company
that processes tiny micro-chips at a price of
99 cents, and charging 100 dollars
for each "upgrade".

In his spare time
he's sponges around
lofty paintings,
filtering through new and old antiques,
but always coming back
to lackadaisly lounge
around his things.

Where a house is
up-kept by maids,
and in his closet
hangs the silhouettes
of personalities,
that he likes to try
around his family.

This is what I imagine
of Francisco, the boy buying coffee
at this Local Caffè
and as he leaves
that Apple-Watch lights up
reminding
about a job interview today.