"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things." -Lemony Snicket

For all its ostensible simplicity, death is complicated for those of us who have yet to experience it. And while I appreciate Snicket's sentiment, coping with loss is not always this straightforward. It is not always possible to merely readjust oneself after the painful shock of losing someone we care about, simply because some relationships transcend illusory misstep; there are some people who are more to us than just the empty space through which we navigate and which confuses us and makes us feel silly when we realize that there was never really any reason to worry in the first place, and that we are going to be just fine.

In much the same way as realizing we've tripped over a non-existent stair, it is always uncomfortably surprising when we lose someone we know. It's a feeling akin to being suddenly and aggressively shaken awake from some mildly enjoyable, but generally monotonous dream. Like we couldn't have predicted as much, as if it were some exotic and unfortunate illness that only ever happens to people in newspapers. And whenever we are made to confront the painful yet obvious reality, it forces us take a step back and reevaluate things.

It makes us think of the deceased, and how we must readjust our view of the world to accommodate their absence. And yes, many times this adjustment amounts to nothing more than a brief moment of miscalculation and confusion. But there are some times when this is not the case, when the loss of a person causes an unmistakable and lasting difference in our lives. There is a rare and special closeness with certain people that some of us are lucky enough to experience, and which at some point causes us to unconsciously realize the verity and significance of these people's existence.

There comes a moment when a person ceases to be merely an imagined phenomenon, and forever becomes an integral piece of the staircase in the multi-storied building of one's life. The people who ineffably and eternally changed us; the people who inadvertently etched themselves into our framework and forced us to recognize their inextricable realness. These are the people for whom we do not become only momentarily disoriented when they leave. When they stop existing there is one less step, a permanent gap in the staircase. And no matter how much time passes, no matter how well adjusted we become, it will never feel quite right skipping a step, making the unnatural lunge over the empty space they've left behind.

i cannot put into words what you have done for me but i will try
i was lost in the numbness of nothingness
the silence around it all was getting way too loud
and i hadn’t felt the excitement of another for way too long

you’ve been around for a while
in the back of my mind as a matter of fact.

it may have taken a while to get you to notice me
but i was willing to take the time, because you felt different
and as far as ‘felt’
it’s too early to tell but you make me feel
and it’s not just a spurt of feel, its a feel thats real

i almost gave up in all honesty
i didn’t want to put myself out there again
to then just be torn limb from limb, again
but you felt, right

you’re quiet… to others
but to me you’re you
and i can’t get enough of you

your voice is distinct-
your voice is yours, it levels me and i could listen to it all day
your eyes are deep-
your eyes are specific, they look at me not through me
your walk is confident-
your walk is purposeful, you don’t wander
your presence is home, its way too early but at the same time idc
your essence is irrational, idk why you’re here at this time
but i can’t second guess it cause nothing has ever felt so right

i look at you and i am in wonderment
your beauty is indescribable
and your being makes your beauty seem intolerable

you make me want to become a better me
you make me reevaluate my purpose
you make me pay attention

i cannot put into words what you have done for me but i will try
i was lost in the numbness of nothingness
the silence around it all was getting way too loud
and i hadn’t felt the excitement of another for way too long

idk why God has placed you in my life
but i hope that you are here to stay
no one has affected me the way you do
i have been so afraid of it all
to stay put
to move
to be happy
to love
to give myself up
but you make me anxious to do all of those things
you make me want to be happy
you make me want to try
you make me want to take risks
you make me want to move
but most importantly-
you make me want to

Today is Tuesday, November 19th, 2013. And I want to talk about you. I want to talk about the clenching and fizzing in my stomach right now as I imagine wrapping you up in my arms and having you close again. I want to talk about the ache in my chest when I think about how it's been ninety days since I last kissed you, since the day I saw you cry as I let you slowly drop from my arms, then hands, then fingertips, and drove away, looking out the window to see you let your head fall into your hands. It's been ninety days since I sat on the floor of the airport and felt my entire being rebelling against getting on that plane and recrossing the thousands of miles that separate us. I want to talk about how I tuck those thoughts away and instead smile as I think of giving you piggyback rides through the park, and kissing in front of churches, and diving into cold pools, and touching you softly as we lay unclothed in your bed, and laughing so hard at your jokes that I'm sure I'm making a fool of myself.

I want to talk about you. I want to talk about you and me. I want to talk about you with me. I want to talk about how you say things that stop me in my tracks and make me reevaluate the truth. I know you, but I can never quite predict your opinions or reactions. You surprise me in this really heart stopping, sometimes refreshing, sometimes eerie way.

I want to talk about how beautiful you are, god, let me please talk about this. Your mind is an intricate, thrumming place that I love to get inside and peek in its dusty corners. I'll try not to leave fingerprints, but I hope you'll forgive me if I do. I think I'm the first person to see some of these places, and I respect them with a reverence. And your heart, your heart... it's an open space that fluctuates and adjusts around me. I know it's learning how to make me fit, but considering that, I'm very comfortable here. It's not a maze, not a grand palace, but not run down either. It's warm in here, slightly musty in the back rooms but in a nice way, while the front is breezy. It's cryptic at first, it's easy to question where one is when first entering. But it has an essence so very you that it's impossible to lose your way completely. I've wandered enough to memorize some of the walls and walk around with a timid freedom. I don't think I would ever dare stride through with arrogance, but I hope to gain confidence the more I explore. Your outside is just as breathtaking. Sometimes I look at the pictures of us together and I stare at your face like it's a puzzle I can solve, because you are indeed the prettiest girl I have ever seen and it astonishes me that yes - you are real. You have this smile that I try to coax out as much as possible, and eyes that are pleasant and warm. Have I told you how much I've always loved brown eyes? It's a colour that suits your irises, that suits you. The image I get when I imagine looking into your eyes is that of wrapped up in soft blankets in a field at dusk. You have beautiful hair that you love to complain about, but I am forever adoring of how it sticks every which way and makes you look - yeah, I'm going to say it - pretty **** cool. Your body is fit and perfect and I'll tell you again, I am so, so jealous. Shadows reach around you to try and feel your shape, rain trickles across your smooth skin to try and kiss as much as it can reach. And when your body tangles with mine, it's magic. You are warm and soft and my fingertips can't help but want to trace a map over you, pressing into their favorite places and trailing across your frame as lightly as a sigh. Your voice, if I had to pick, is the thing that best represents you. Its most frequent setting is this strong, hardy tone that gets your point across with as much bluntness as the words you choose. When you're sleepy it becomes soft and drawling and muffled. When you have to act professional, it heightens and becomes cheery and sweet. When you're touched, it turns lovely and breathy and exquisitely feminine. You are embodied by these sides of you, and there's more I'm yet to hear and learn from it. All of it is beautiful in a way so uniquely you that I smile just in Knowing.

I want to talk about knowing you. I've always wanted just to know you, from the day we met. That was the prevailing thought: How to Know You. Now every day I am given glimpses into you, and every day I'll know a little more, and I couldn't be happier.

I want to talk about you. I want to talk about how much I love you. I love you the way lights love to pool on the sidewalk. I love you the way ink loves the abstract. I love you the way sand loves seashells. I love you the way trees love sunlight. I love you the way airplanes love the sky. I love you with a ferocity and a tenderness and an affection it halts the motion of the world for moments at a time. You bring words and metaphors to mind in a way no inspiration could, and the next second you stop all thought dead and leave my head buzzing pleasantly empty. I used to refuse to write of love; now my hands know of little else. You've changed me, profoundly, intensely. What did I spend my thoughts on before? Now, I just want to talk about you.

I love my black cat,
for all his brokenness, his brain
damage, his tendency to
drool and
to fall off
things.  
I love him dearly,
in spite or perhaps because of
these various defects,
and he loves me back
with a fierce and simple purity
like only idiots can.

Still, I
sometimes wish
we could time travel together,
he and I,
and I could take him to Ancient Egypt
and show the Pharoah, the priests, the acolytes and the slavedrivers.
I'd show them my wonderful cat
with his wobbly eyes, his
flailing windmill limbs and
his perfect idiot love,
and I'd tell them all:
'This is your God.
Reevaluate.'

I find myself always over thinking
Does she like me?
What does this mean?
Does this make me look gay?
Why are you doing this to me?
My thoughts overflow like a waterfall
Constantly going going going
Stop just take a deep breath
Don't freak out
Don't let them see you bleeding
Don't show signs of weakness
Blink less
Stay calm
If they see you crumbling
They will fill in your cracks
With hate and jokes
Like negative cement
Until you are stiff
With hatred towards yourself
Causing you to over think some more
Do they like me?
Why are they whispering?
Did I do something wrong?
My thoughts cave in my subconscious
And I can't help but sit there and worry
Pacing back and forth
Mind racing
Hands shaking
Heart pounding
Don't let them hear you breathing
Don't let them see you sweating
They can't get to you
Words become knives
Rumors become wounds
Jokes become scars
And I'm left there
Over thinking
Why did they say that?
Why did they treat me this way?
Over thinking back into depression
Why do they hate me?
Why am I even here?
I cause myself to reevaluate
Until I'm questioning my motives
I tell myself I'm a fighter
Pull all nighters
Until I'm calm enough to face the world
People hate because you are doing something great
Right?
I'm great right?
Why let people get to you
When everything they say doesn't have to define you
I'm in the eye of the storm
The worst part is behind me
Funny how the things you said didn't blind me
Relax
You're okay
Stop over thinking
Pray
Why can't they just leave me alone?
Why do I let my over thinking show?

I lie awake
And think about everything I hate
Everything that relates
To my past
Old habits coming back
And I have to adapt
To the overwhelming amounts of self hate
The new scars on my arm
Tell me that I've come a long way
They will eventually go away
And then I can focus on each day
My thoughts and my feelings
Happen to be two different things
My thoughts control my feelings
But my feelings cause my thoughts
So I ought to reevaluate my life choices
Even though I don't have many
Only ones I regret
And then you come along
And make my heart strong
I can't help but feel like the universe owes me one
Or two
Or three
I'm not picky
I just want something extraordinary
To make up for all the holes that are left of me
Maybe I over think things
I try not feel
But think too much to makes sure that everything is real
I'm thinking myself into depression
Regression
Every thought leads to violent expression
And I just need someone to look at me
And say that I'm okay
My thoughts lead me away from anything that involves positivity
Just say that you believe in me
And that you will never leave me
Why sleep when I can think
Why think when I can sleep
Maybe if I think about sleeping it will happen
Everything around me slowly becomes everything that's hurt me
I don't want to die
I just need to find a reason to stay alive

My mind wandered as he walked in,
Wandered into the undetermined future of this thing they called "us"
Was it a lifetime of undeniable affection for one another?
Or was it a longing that would only lead to years of jealousy and rage?
Either way it goes it would definitely lead to an unrelenting passion,
Unrelenting huh?
A never ceasing, always wanting, continuously pursuing, passion for one another.
Sound like a lot of trouble to me.
Maybe I should sit back and reevaluate my wanderings,
What if this attraction is only felt by me?
Then will I want all of this?
Am I okay watching from the sidelines as my other half of "us" creates "us" after "us"
What I want to say is NO!!! And run away
What I will probably do is sit and watch,
Watch as the other half of my "us" turns into a quarter than an eighth and then a sixteenth and so on and so forth until the number behind the decimal is too long to count.
And even then I'll be sitting here waiting for him to return
Cause even in my singleness I am loyal.

Neither girl nor male… So what am I? Am I the so-called perv aiming to invade the wrong bathroom? Am I a heretic aiming to impose my wickedness onto the world? Am I the clocking stares they give me? How about the result of a broken home or a broken heart? Does my mere existence force you to reevaluate your identity? When all I'm trying to do is figure out mine. Neither girl nor male… So you tell me where I am to relieve my bowels. Or am I to stitch them shut for your comfort? While I'm at it, shall I stitch my eyes shut as to not burden you with running mascara; which further assaults my "feminine façade"? I'm sorry to burden you with my fake *****, of which a second of labor (turning your head) would relieve you of your distress. I'm sorry you'd rather slave away starring and clocking them. Clocking me. I am sorry that I was born male yet refuse to live up to such expectations. I am sorry that despite my best efforts I cannot pass for how I feel. Believe me—for the life of me—I am trying. As punishment for lack of natural *******, I stretch my skin to form a pleasing cleavage. As punishment for having the wrong body type, I wear a cage around my abdomen two sizes too small that cuts into my rib cage dare I seek the comforts of sitting down. As punishment for being born with a male anatomy, I crunch my disheveled sack of nerve endings between my chaffing thighs. Dare my body have the audacity to ***** itself for any reason I bend the muscle, in such a way never intended, between my legs just to have one less aesthetic reminder as to what I am not. Your clocking stares painfully remind me that I may never be seen as how I see myself. But ****** do I try. Until I do, I am condemned to be neither male nor… female.

when your daughter tells you that she has an eating disorder, believe her.
do not mock her, do not tell her she is wrong. though you could not hear her in the bathroom on her knees at christmas or on her birthday or after dinner, listen to her now.

know that after she reveals this and runs crying to her room that she will lie directly on her floor and place her ear to the carpet and she will hear you discussing her declaration like a bad movie, a critic to the fact that yes she still has all her teeth, but you do not know anything about disorders.

when your son mentions at the dinner table that your daughter thinks she may be depressed, do not shake your head. do not continue your meal, do not let her escape to her room immediately upon mention of the subject. do not shake your head, and do not continue your meal.

when you ask your daughter if she wants to see a psychiatrist and she does not say no, take her. make an appointment, do not cancel it. take her.

after an argument, when your daughter refuses to hug you, do not be offended. do not make a sarcastic remark about how she is "really helping the situation," that will not help the situation either. only know that she is hurt, and that she is only sixteen.

when you buy your daughter acne treatment and teeth whitener and brand new makeup and pore strips and she refuses to use them, do not yell. rather, attempt to fathom why your daughter may be boycotting your unrequested purchases, and try to find three things about her more important to you than her appearance.

when your daughter tells you that last night she sat in her closet for an hour so that she could be safe from you due to the way her her heart races and her palms sweat every time she hears the sound of your footsteps outside of her room, please reevaluate the way you talk to your daughter.

when your daughter tells you that she is sick and that she cannot go to school for the fifteenth separate time this semester, ask her about in what ways she is feeling ill, because one does not contract the flu fifteen separate days over the course of five months. that is not how the flu works. it is not likely that she has been physically ill to the point where she will lay in bed until past the time she was supposed to be getting home from school. do not accept the fact that she has a "headache" and do not let her tell you that she is just fine, because she is not.

when your daughter stays up all night doing homework but does not complete her work, do not nag at her. do not tell her that you and her father are "just waiting for her to have a mental breakdown" or to “stay out of your face when she loses her mind” like you know she will, do not tell her for the twentieth time to get her life together. it will not help her get her life together.

when your daughter tells you that she thinks she may be depressed, listen to her. do not fail to notice the words "years" or "finally".
do not simply forget about it, do not wake the next morning and assume that just because she is at the breakfast table eating her cereal that all is well. do not assume that last night she did not make a detailed plan to **** herself and that the only thing that stopped her was a line of a song, and a boyfriend.

when you notice that your daughter has stopped going out with friends, stopped going to practice and stopped trying in school, do not yell. do not lecture. try to predict what she may stop doing next. but do not yell.

do not say things like that she is “upsetting  your  household” statements like that make it very clear in the head of your daughter that the household she lives in is not also hers, and that you do not want her around. do not make careless statements in front of your teenage daughter.

though you may not know that the most common word in all of her google searches is “depression,” it should not take that for you to realize that she has a problem. though you did not see her ask the internet how many of her vitamins she would have to take until she could be sure she would not wake up, it should never have gotten this far.

do not tell her that you are sorry. it will be too late.

And so the peak of night sets in,
Attempting to cloak me with its silent comfort.
Knowing my dwelling is the most peaceful
And my working spirit, the most productive
Under its silky, brooding wing.

It tries to pull me into its embrace,
Promising to erase all traces of the day,
This which is but one of many
That of late,
Are false in promise
And rich in disappointment.

But tonight, Lady Night,
I shrug you off.
I cannot, this time, be comforted
By your velvet touch.
Do not shy away, though,
For I suspect I will call upon you yet.

Lady Night, stay and talk.
You, of all around me,
Will listen to my wandering mind,
Take in my words like
Sweet water to a tree,
Something I cannot find
In humankind.
Stay?....


Life has not smiled upon me
In a while.
I know not
What wrong I did it,
Nor how I may make
My amends,
But until I resolve
This bitter fight,
I endure its
Unexplained revenge.

Despite all this,
However,
I throw myself on
The frontlines
For everyone else.
I still have the time,
Still make the efforts,
To ensure that the people
In my life
Have the kind of friend
That has eluded me
For years.

And where has it gotten me.

Not a question,
But a statement.

Because I know where
It's gotten me.

Nowhere.

Though I've encountered
Characters of all kinds
Throughout my life,
I have never before
Been surrounded by
So many people
So wrapped up in themselves
That when the walls come
Crashing down,
And the roof starts
Falling in,
I could wrack my
Weary mind for hours
And not recall  
A single soul
Who would be interested
Or even have the time
To lend an ear to my tales.

I find this to be
The Capital
Of all double standards
And I find it odd
How this has continued
For so long,
But so has my giving in.

Odd that, as they take
What they want
And walk away
Without a second glance
Or a mere fraction
Of a returned favor -
Which, in all honesty,
Could be nothing more
Than a listening ear
And a gentle embrace,
And an unimaginable weight
Would be lifted from
My mind,
My spirit,
My heart -
I continue to let them,
The images of turned backs
Forever burned into my mind.

I continue to give
What I still yet do not have.
And I am not a thief,
So I shall not give
What is not mine.


So what is the result?

Oh, Lady Night.
If only you had eyes
That could see me.
If only the stars
You held in a gentle balance,
Like diamonds in the weave
Of a spider's trap,
Were a way for me to
Show you
Where I am.

I feel a tiredness
I cannot explain,
A weariness
That will not leave
No matter how I try
To gather rest,
Though as of late,
Sleep is
An unfriendly stranger,
Refusing to even
Make eye contact with me,
Let alone greet me,
Or stay for bit.

I feel an anger,
A disappointment,
A betrayal,
And perhaps the smallest
Sense of...
Worthlessness.

Why should I feel
Any different?

The whole has made it clear
Just how valuable
My efforts,
My actions,
My friendship,
Is to them.

And if, for that,
I could provide a
Measurement,
I would have very little
To show you
Through your starry eyes,
Lady Night.
Very, very little.

And I cannot help but wonder
Why I continue to try,
Continue to utilize
My precious energy
In an ultimately,
Infinitely futile
Attempt
To make them see,
To make them care.

It's all just as well,
I suppose.
I have always had
A rather unfortunate
Habit
Of hoping for the change
In those
Who will do everything but.


But now,
Now, in this moment,
In the dark of this night,
Let the stars,
The silence,
And the infinite
Reaches of space
Be my witnesses:

There will be no more.

At least, not now.

I will, for now,
Gather my wits
About me,
And strengthen my resolve,
Encase myself,
So that I may
Fall off the radar.

The tiny green dot
That I have become -
Or that I perhaps always was -
Will disappear,
And travel off
The beaten path
For a little while.


I only need to reevaluate,
Need to rethink,
Need to heal,
And deal with these emotions
That plague me.

They are, of course,
My burden to bear
Because as you can tell,
Any hope I had for solace
In another being,
Any hope of finding refuge
In another's ear, mind, heart, arms,
Were swiftly extinguished
Like a gust of wind
To a tea candle.

I shall no longer
Waste my time,
Shall no longer
Linger where I am not
Wanted or needed
Unless there is something
I can give,
And where I am not
Appreciated,
No matter what it is
I have given.

Self-reliance.
Constant diligence.
Lady Night.

You will be companions now.

I ask that others
Do not call upon me
When you seek
A service
Or favor
That you could not
Find
In anyone else.

I will not answer.
I will not come.

If, however,
You feel so miraculously
Inclined
To call upon me
With genuine concern
Or interest in my person,
And in who I have been
To you...

If by some hardly imaginable
Chance
You remember
And acknowledge
When I was there,
And what I did,
And what I said,
To ease your souls
While I battled the pain
Within my own...
It would be
A comforting thing
To know.

At that point,
I may return.
But not now.


Lady Night,

Your cloak, please.

For who can say life is not but a dream.
When you sleep does your mind often know that you're not awake?
Something that your brain can't distinguish between,
is it reality or dreamlike serene?

For who can say that death is not but a dream.
Free'd from mortal coil, the body may wither but the mind may transcend separated from the body. Time is only conceptualized and regimented. Time is of course intangible. There has only ever been one time, the now everything is happening on one scale, at one time, always.

Empty, like all living beings. composed of nothing.
All that lie behind those thin human shells, and interact as if aesthetics are taken for granted. However, all is perceived and compiled of atoms and molecules, particles. Nothing lies truly there except for perception, look aside of the boundaries and reevaluate the conception.

Living, stagnant cogs of the world with fear of rejection.
Are you a dreamer? there isn't too many of us around anymore.
Life, is a waking dream and you walk down its path, but must challenge it and not give in, therefore life is a walking exam.
Aristotle spoke of knowing something because he knows he knew nothing. I know nothing, we all know nothing, knowledge is found therein.

Faking your way through everything, who's going to call who's bluff. Invisible boundaries, ones greatest enemy must surely be themselves,
for instance all those living their lives painting imaginary walls to lock their dreams in. Told something that isn't just on a daily basis by media no you shouldn't  and no you can't. Hypnosis of the masses, bow down to the monopoly and put priority to the meaningless monetary.

Living lives chained to sheets of paper, always chasing, never ever asking why? do you need that, but will you die? Confused and lost sight of the real. pursuit of Happiness, Knowledge, Creativity, Love, Possibilities of above.

Break out the invisible shackles, leap out from under the internal prison and run, never stop till you reach the top of the mountain and scream. We are free and the time is now, there has never been a greater time to be alive. The world is our oyster lets soar and leap to the pinnacle of our greatness.

We can all achieve our potential, your life on a canvas, paint your masterpiece.

"If anyone botheres you
I've got your back"
You said

So I guess you'll have
To reevaluate your statment

Because your phrase
Echoes in my head
Bugging me each
And every one
Of my days

How you told me
To stop being myself
Because I was a little weird

And now my fears came true
I got to know that everyone else
Thought that too
Because how could a father
Tell his daughter
To stop being who she is

So my smile slowly faded
You saw it less and less
Each time
And my playfulness halted
And turned into series of complaints

I hear it all the time
In your voice
you are disappointed
You are slowly shriveling me up
Weighing me down

I am sorry
I am not enough.

"you don't have AIDs do you?"
i smile and laugh while i reply no.

but there is a dark secret inside my soul;

i fear that it is written across my heart for the world to see.

i worry i shall be alone until my last breath.



friends shall come and go,

just like the clouds.

i wouldn't mind if one decided to stick around...

but i shall not hope for things that are unlikely.

thats how hearts break ya know.



as i smoked a cigarette this morning,

i noticed a dying plant.

as i gazed at it's withering leaves--

that are slowly turning yellow

i marveled at how it is quite obvious too see it's demise.

i than began to question my own death.

i am surely killing myself slowly with the narcotics,

the cigarettes, and the apathetic thoughts.

but am i showing any signs of dying?

i then realized that just like that plant,

we must be fed the proper nutrients.

we must receive the proper love and care.

all in order to grow, to live, and to survive.

but what are these proper necessities that humans require?

how do i receive the love my heart desires?

so i finished that cigarette, and as i stood up to go back inside,

i lost my balance.

the crutches flew from underneath my hands.

and i fell.

i fell with what seemed like elegance, and with great impact.

it felt like an eternity of falling--

maybe i was going down a rabbit hole of the mind.

but sooner before later my body slammed against the earth.

no longer was i weightless in midair.

tears quickly began to leak from my eyes.

i laid on the ground, so helpless; weeping.

not too long after, i sat up.

my tears had ceased,

and i thought to myself,

'why do i cry, am i waiting for someone to rescue me?'

i know that no one is around,

and yet i hope for someone to offer their hand.

however, in life, one must learn to stand on their own.

i shall fall again.

i don't know when, or where--

but i will fall.

and i am okay with that.



the day goes on...

i think,

and i think.

i do not find the answers i'm looking for,

but i do find other answers.

i come to conclusions.

i discover lies, that i believed to be truths.

i recover from past pain.

i dwelled in long forgotten memories.

i realize that love is whatever we want it to be...

and most importantly i realize i do not love ***.

i just love the idea of someone making love with me.

the idea of someone loving me.

the idea of someone wanting me,

and most importantly not just wanting my body.

after all i truly do desire to be wanted:

for my intellect, for my opinions,

for who i am.

for being kirsten.

i will admit my skin does crave attention,

and maybe in all the wrong places.

but oh how i would enjoy the touch of someones hand,

upon my own.



during the day i was also told by a dear friend

that it does not matter if you are rich, nor poor

or what the circumstances you are living under;

you can be out on the street, living in a box,

but as long as you still have your family,

the family that love and care for you--

that is all that matters.

i do believe it was the most beautiful thing he has ever told me.



and slowly, but surly i begin to forgive myself

for all the pain i have brought into my family's hearts.

trials and tribulations have been endured by us all,

and there will be more to come.

however, i do now understand, that i can rely on my family

for their love and support, no matter the circumstances.

so the roses my father has given to my mother will die.

she may not have said thank you when she received them,

but it is the thought that counts...

isn't it?



please, please don't forget about me

i silently whisper.

fear of friends disappearing truly worries me.

i attempt to keep them in my life,

a part of me wishes they would never leave.

but seasons change, just like our beliefs.

the clouds will continue to pass in the sky,

only for that sky to be filled with new clouds,

new beginnings, new journeys, new beliefs.

we outgrow friends, just like when we were younger,

and we would outgrow our shoes.

so maybe it is best that i've been so lonely lately.

all so i can reevaluate my life, my choices, and who i surround myself with.



i now wonder if i'll change.

it is all that is left for me to do...

i can see my faults clearly,

and guilt often overwhelms me.

when will i stop using? will i ever?

am i able to quit smoking cigarettes?

i must be capable of finding friends that treat me with respect...

right?

i can love my family a little more each day.

but more importantly i shall learn to love myself a little more each day.

for how am i supposed to learn to love others,

if i cannot even love myself?

i do find that i am my own worst enemy.

but things can change.

and things will change.

the choices are all my own.

i just have to want it badly enough to do something about it.

lets hope i can practice what i preach

before it is too late.

Most of the political world
needs to reevaluate on
how indifferent neutrality
and tactful compromise
does not amount to
equal measures
in a thriving democracy.

They were in the parapsychological hypnosis session unmoved by everything that could happen. The journey of a lifetime through the hidden spaces of past existence was virtual reality. It all begins in antiquity where Vernarth was transported to Hypno to reunite with his inborn and his comrades. He proved to be a great defender of libertarian ideals and above all not to betray his formation of great leaders of the largest empire, with immeasurable feats and achievements of this super experience of reunion in a past world with more reunions for having lived and returned to revive them. The expert director of this great feat, acknowledged never having attended anything that compares to him, it is an unprecedented fact and that would mark a new milestone in his specialty and the study of parapsychology. The doctor together with his assistants had to reevaluate a new policy of systemic or therapies, in exchange for their own way of life, generating the greatest plan of digression from this conjectured intercommunicated, to planes and dimensions of the ancestral memory of everything. Created, and those that its beneficiaries have been able to verify. In the vicinity of the clinical consultation, hundreds of people, onlookers, journalists, and the media took risks. To which one of them asks the doctor: Journalist: “Dear Sir, I was having a coffee… just when I heard about this phenomenal news. We decided to come to his interview. I consult you. What has been the greatest tenor that has been differentiated from the rest of the procedures that he has performed, and how will his method be in the future to reconvert his specialty? Parapsychologist says: “there are undoubtedly innumerable connections in our lives and beyond ...., But now I have found routes that I did not think I was capable of knowing in this instance. I think that now they will be more than they could count in an active professional life”

At that moment, his assistant called him urgently to tell him that an emergency had occurred. They both hurry and enter the cabin. And they manage to perceive that Vernarth was with the clothes on a sofa, at the time of the exploits of 331 BC. C. explaining that he requested excuses for his demands and needs, but he had much to propose and deliver to his comrades who were in Bumodos. Considering his beloved wife, Walekiria, he was as always preparing elixirs and essences for the recipe restoration of her breastplate and his limbs. He had an urgency to improve this whole process before the next Ekadashi, to get ready with new stages of his worksheet. Without a doubt he should go back to Patmos to take care of the pantry and library of St. John the Evangelist, he had to restore local buildings, house rooms, temples, regional development works, and regional art. Another elementary task was to take charge of agriculture, and to obey Hera's designs, for the next millennia to re-awaken the cultures that survive on her. Another of his great passionate conventions was to ride through Macedonia, through the sunrises at the time that it crosses the grassy pastures and the proliferation of the hieratic insects, when the Oracle of Dodona polished its germinated seeds in the arms of dawn turned into Fireflies. He flew with his horse, seeming to be acclaimed from all over the world for his "Liturgical Conclave." To surrender in his integrity in the residences of time on Alikanto, beyond all the Ages and the Millennia, unable to evade the dishonored paths by the consolidation of a new firmament. Incalculable times Vernarth and Alikantus are appreciated as they crash into the glittering valleys and regions, encapsulating themselves in the fields with the golden hooves of their steed, inaugurating the new resurgence of their adventures, which are more than the same God, who would entrust them to a restless individual to reissue Genesis, or a new collaborative proposal with the Evangelist on Patmos and Áullos Kósmos shaking the wind fog tunnels of Wonthelimar.

Song of Stratonice: "in the marble, he spent the night in white Apeiron and its infinite indeterminate matter, devoid of quality and found in the eternal movement of the Eolionimi, where a snowy savior has to take refuge in its womb, from Áullos Kósmos or paradise of Vernarth. The Basilisk and Satan will take each other by submission, each dying in solitude and abandonment in his own scale. Perversity has no cure or repair in the behaviors of its confinement, the millennial kingdom will be stuck in the centennial, having to be justice for the remains of their own children. Regarding the human spirit during all periods of history, there will be a nomological kingdom that without the word will say what life rescues in the emetics, and the facets of the Katapausis that will make amends for the Hebrew diffusions, in weight of the ferrule prop that embraces the Zefian's bolt, falling from the top. The two-sided enthusiasm will cross the rocky embankment at the top of Profitis Ilias, thus with tender meters crossing the Sanctified Absorption Fero and Humanitarian Salvation”

it's almost funny how you can control your own thoughts and your own feelings. it's almost funny that it was this easy. but i dont think about this as often anymore because i am so happy. not ecstatic not elated. just happy. i am not eternally sad or mad or frustrated. just happy. i have not bathed myself in ***** water for weeks now and i have used soap in all the right places and made sure my taste buds were scrubbed. i feed myself with respect and i cuddle myself with people who make me laugh so hard i **** myself and they are the ones who make me think how i ever got bad. i reevaluate the things i say i regret doing, and now i do not regret doing or saying or feeling any of those things. they happened for a reason and now i am here. just happy.

Home of the free and land of the brave
The home I reside in isn't free and with all these deaths it should've been called land of the grave
So, why should I fear death?
Even when I go about things the right way and subtract bad decisions death will always be left
Keep your eyes peeled and light on your heel
These bullets are like my words, not meant for a specific person can be for anyone to feel
And I'm not trying to disrespect the people that protest
But you'll never see me protest anything because everyday there's a new thing to protest
Dead people found in freezers, protest
Racial profiling, protest
Immigration laws, protest
And while we're talking about immigration, I've seen more marriages at the courthouse than ever
I'm starting to think nursing isn't where the money and success is at and officiating marriages be my new focus
Hurricanes came with pain and aim to level everything so nothing be the same
But if you want my opinion, disasters like these give cities new reason to rebuild bigger and better
Rebuild and reevaluate financial importance
Let's try building more homes and ignore a need for a fence
Many people might call this talent but I'm just speaking facts
During the daytime I'm just a regular college student trying to find my way in life
But at night I'm the dark knight trying to make my city a better place with words instead of bats

In a silent room filled with strangers
you are the only sound, 'sides an occasional cough
and the T.V. going off about... Wait. I have no idea.

Television drowned out in my thoughts, left behind
some other where some other when I relied upon it,
when I was afraid of what was in my mind.

Now, I. Am lost in thought, poetry, books, words, thoughts on paper
Inspiration. And you are distracting me television.
You were only left on as ambient noise because somebody thought
that we, a group of perfect strangers would be too afraid to talk to one
another, too afraid of silence even, and I am glad that we turned you off.
I am proud to say that we did not, that I do not, rely upon you.

I pity the people that rely upon you. I pity their minds. Locked up
in clean little cages with boundaries, standards, and goals, even
life ambitions created by a society that relies more upon
green slips of clothlike paper than it does human interaction.

How long before we have robots answering our doors
the way machines answer our phones? This madness
needs to, no it must stop. I demand that we reevaluate.
If you'd rather a sack of cash over the words and thoughts
that I have than so be it, but you, you are worth more to me than gold.
I want to sit in silence with your mind, and cherish it.

lord please tame my ego
because it seems that i go
wherever he goes
and wherever he goes
i know
is a place so high though
i'm so tall
but like shaq at the free through
i fall short
clank
and here we go
again
back down to the bottom
try not to get swallowed
the pressure
the faces
the people
expecting
i get swallowed
pressure consumes me
my ego led me astray
the man i was yesterday
is a boy today
so i reevaluate
and try to understand
who i really am
him or me
my ego
i tell him to do what i want
matter fact
i just forget he's even there
and see where that takes us

you are leading me softly
into deep blues and tangled sheets
quiet impressions of your past loves and their crooked teeth
while you, hang me in yours:
golden molars set on a house of cards
(This dissipates and collides)
and you don't breathe you smoke
pouring grey all out into the empty space
skin meets air meets time meets space
you spit ash and I reevaluate
the space between our hands
spiraling again
you tell me to open my eyes and take it all in
your hands on my waist
my hands turning tight
catch and combust
collide and spark your apathy
I burry myself in the face of the ocean
swirling slate hushed under the seabed
the wanting comes in waves as I'm drifting after you
this longing eats holes in my favorite shirts and breaks like the wings of the tender creatures of the night
wasn't their fault they were just drawn to the light in your teeth
and the feeling compels that as the waves break neither of us can remain
I'm just tripping after
deep blues and tangled sheets
quiet impressions of your past loves and their crooked teeth
just hang it and hang me in yours.

I think I've been looking at this
all wrong
she doesn't miss me
and she didn't know
what it meant when she kissed me
and I shouldn't expect her to
because I never spoke my mind
completely
oh god
I'm a fraud
I can only be mad at myself
me
myself
the blame is on my hands
my hands
Oh ****
Oh ****
Oh ******* ****
I've done it again
misconstrued everything
time to
reevaluate
I'll see you later
when my head is on
straight

My mom once told me there were four parts of a movie.

I asked her, is it the beginning, the body, the ******, and then the conclusion?

She shakes her head, no she said. It's the play, the pause, the rewind

That's only three I thought. I leaned closer as she explains to my eight year old brain what it meant.

The play is when the excitement first builds. It's the thickness of air around you, but still you run out of breath. She says. It's the beginning of the adventure, the beginning of everything.

She takes a breath. She presses the cigarette **** against her lips. She takes a sip from her wine glass.

The pause is where you reevaluate things a little. She begins. It's where something takes you away from your track, and it leaves you baffled, so you stop a little, digesting what went wrong.

She takes another drag from the cigarette.

The third one is the rewind. Her eyes turn a little glassy. It's deciding that the movie was good enough, that it's worth rewatching. That somehow, you can overlook the bad parts and rewind again, replay again, because to you it was that good.

Mom and I stayed silent for a long time. She kept sipping from her wine glass.

I swallow. You said there were four parts, I say.

She looks at me, and her eyes were filled with sorrow, pain. Anger.

The last part, she spits out, is the stop. It's deciding halfway through the replay that it simply won't work anymore. That it needs to end. That the bad things will always be present and cant be overlooked. That the excitement isn't worth it anymore.

She takes a deep breath. She stands and ruffles my hair. She kisses me goodnight. I close my eyes and listen to her heavy breathing fade through the lonely halls of our home.

Later that night, while I was in bed, I get the distinct notion that she wasn't talking about movies and their parts at all.

I'm 26

Just the ******* children of economic hitmen

Will we have the strength not to give in

Now that we are apart

My blood
My oldest friend
Brother I've missed those songs for too long Again

Ill watch you walk

I'm 31

I don't know you now

Your disposition is stagnant
you don't inspire me

You chose the road

I stayed in one town to reevaluate my perspective  and create new seasons inside of me

Another year gone

We hardly talk

My suitcase packed

Ill be in Zurich soon

But first ill look to you in the bay

No matter what you say

You are the other half of the moon

Meet me in the city.


Ethiopian food on Haight.

Amoeba records

Your finger tips feathered from the cold.

Hurry up.

We are getting old.

It's days like today
that make me reevaluate
what I'm trying to achieve.
I can't say it wasn't a good day.
BUT

I feel myself slipping
into the depths of desolation.
I'm not making the impact
I know I'm capable of.
And though things happen
that are out of my control
I'm striving for my own change.  

One of the
world moving
gets people talking
kind of phenomena.
Something nobody would ever dream.
But how do you know
when to take flight?
Is there a signal?
Or will the feeling be right?

Restless desire stirs
killing the idle mind.
I know.
           I know.
                      I know
I'm just a rambling fool
talking in open air
to nobody.
You're here though.

What I'm trying to say is
soon I'll be gone
and I'm going to change
the way you think of me.

Hatred is what burns you
What guides you
It is your passion
What feeds you
Diabolical...
It survives through you
Because it overcame you
And slowly you are destroyed
Devouring each moment
That which you hold dear
Those things you keep close
Are no longer secret to your hatred
It becomes you
It makes you
Your foundation is redefined
And you reevaluate your purpose
Until that purpose is deemed unworthy
Of your current goals
Hatred recreates you
Redirects your mind
What you once believed is shattered
What you once thought
Has died.