is for you
to read my poetry
and be able
to breathe again —
to hear my sound and remember
what your favourite summer
felt like
when it lived
inside
your
skin….!

i want to be where you are
to feel your skin for it’s scars
i want to repair your heart
with greasy hands and spare parts

let this page be my escape
let the paper make an umbrella
let it scare away the rain
let me only hit my pillow
and not a bottle full of pain
let me wake up in my own bed
let me feel less insane.

If I lived to surf,
did nothing but, for decades,

deontological dawn patrols,
every day, every, every day,

sitting with the brothers, beating back
a sense of meaningless ness, expressed as
necessary patience, rises, duty to wait,
tests patience of bobbing ducks,
daring a wave to promise a lift \rush,
with a flush of perfect form, wait
glance back to see the first beam
touch the swell out there
glimpse, sun kisses kelp forest
green glint golden tip long leaves
in the sun just edging past the cliff…

If I lived to surf,
did nothing but, for decades,

I would be famous, at that beach, when I die.

Outside connection
Where like minds and hearts connect
Hello Poetry

I’m aching
borderline pinching with the shakes
Abrasively I’m dialing
Itchy skin fingers toy with fine dining

What do you know about blame?
And do you always think you’re definitely in love this time?

Sensitive to light, sometimes too bright or not bright enough.
Sensitive to sound, sometimes too loud or too quiet.
Sensitive to my emotions, feeling everything intensely or not at all.
Sensitive to my mental state, panic attacks feels like dying and overthinking feels like rushing through every emotion in reckless abandon.
I am a highly sensitive person and I know what I want out of life.
Being sensitive is my superpower because I know what to expect from people.