In my journal I wrote a little while waiting in the hospital lobby during my grandmother's appointment.
I observed others. Some elderly women looked tired, and a bit irritated with their paperwork tasks. They seem full of pain and impatience.
There was this one woman I noticed - she was raised up in an electric wheelchair, smiling out of squinted eyes with wrinkles like memory foam from decades of laughter.
She reminded me of the transition from summer to autumn.
Those first couple days of crisp weather and that restorative feeling you get and thought you forgot during the peak intensity of the heat.
Her face was full of youth and acceptance.
She knows everything will be alright.
And I find inspiration in her countenance and stop biting my fingernails.

I keep hearing that
in order to exist properly
amongst your peers
you need a strong sense of self.
I think that
the stains on my shirt
melancholic playlist in my ears
grumbling tummy
and agitation with self help websites
might be as good as it gets for my early 20's.

and I'm tired of trying to be perfectly healthy all the time.
and I think capacity for constant self awareness is a privilege.

shame shares a tight border with shyness
both remind me of being a skittish mutt

This is all normal -
Petting dogs,
Nodding at strangers,
Holding the door open.

Sometimes this all makes me
Go underwater and cry,
Where my tears blend in with
Everything.

I wonder why
I'm even wondering why
we seek joy in these small moments.

I sit so naturally, perched,
On a tall, naked, tree branch
Puncturing the grey sky
With its vague horizon
And brisk, quiet air.

It's like finding a necklace in the dryer,
all knotted and twisted.
I keep trying to straighten it out,
writing about the same old stuff.

Maybe I'm not really fixing anything,
just fiddling with the knots.
Moving them around,
maybe I'm making progress.

Maybe it's better to laugh,
Set the dang-knotted things aside,
and to have a lighthearted dialogue
with your shadows.

cold, blue skies
crisp air
and sun in my eyes
breathing deeply amongst the crowd
I feel like an installation
in a hotel lobby
or a decorative vase
with dry arrangements

empty yet amused eyes
peer beyond me
while I’m duct-taped to this pedestal
nailed into a wall
the frame of a painting
sitting in a display case.

love is
the friendly atlantic ocean
a lotion that never fully rubs in
humid air

love permeates
like a leaky roof
honey on toast
dandelions

Found a penny heads up
Saw your face on it
Tossed it off the Broadway Bridge
There's nothing lucky about
finding a small man's face
staring up at you
on a peaceful walk

do you think
wallpaper wants to talk
to the people in the room?

don't you think there's wisdom
in wallpaper?
how it absorbs the stories and
the spinning revolving door
of people who come and go