She doesn’t deserve a chance
You’ve given hundreds more
Than she would ever need
All while she slept comfortably.

She doesn’t deserve a chance
You’ve offered thousands more
Than she would ever realized
All while she viewed simply.

She doesn’t deserve a chance
You’ve offerend millions more
Than she would ever believe
All while she thought easily.

I deserve the precious chance
You haven’t offered one
That I would take with love
All while I dreamt widely.

I deserve a chance.

It’s the end of the night
The last of the chai
With a breeze meant to cool
Our forever burning hearts.

It’s the end of an era
The last of the sorrows
With a moment meant to heal
Our forever burning hearts.

It’s the end of the show
The last of the magic
With a tune to send us off
To seek our forever burning hearts.

It’s the end of the evening
The last of the chai
With the sky as our barrier
We ride our forever burning hearts.

Step inside my bedroom.
It holds a warm body
That makes sounds of lust

Step inside my bedroom.
I holds a mind of its own
That releases nothing but laundry

Step inside my bedroom.
It holds a heart of green
That embraces all but hate

Step inside my mind.
Which holds a body hot with anxiety
Who makes lustful tunes of surgical desire

Step inside my mind.
It holds a bedroom if it’s own
That realeases all ‘out phased’ laundry

Step inside my mind.
It holds a heart of mine

Step inside my heart.
It holds a mind of theirs.

She will see them always now
The angel numbers  and the simple signs.
With the hope of learning the strings
Of all you have to offer
While the day is still light.

She will see them always now
The plate numbers and the street signs.
With the hope of seeing the truth
Of the third eye’s offer
While the day is still light.

She will see THEM always now
The strayed hair and the warmed face.
With the hope of experiencing all
Of the moments to be reached
While the day is still light.

She sees a human.
She loves my blistered, worn hands.
She loves my dreams of impracticality.
She loves my memories.

Thank goodness she’s my golden hour all the time

I gave a Stranger my whole
She struck me with a dagger of reality
Of how simply vulnerable I am.
This isn't what I need.

I was feeling vulnerable
Nostalgia struck me with a dagger of reality
Of how lustful I am.
This isn't who I am.

I lie on this sheet
Filled with tears of the broken and hope
This Stranger took my vulnerable soul
And tossed them around the bed.

I said no
But the simple syllable
Is locked behind my lips.
I don't want a Stranger.


I am in ache of her words
Her smile is a dagger of reality
Of how much a love her.
She needs to know I love her.

It’s an hour close enough
To the number of no return
We contact through the space
As we once did before time

A cigarette before ***
Is not what the humble mind
Would immediately jump to
Only the outsiders would assume so

A cigarette before ***
Simply means a breath of air
Before all wind is stolen
By the intimacy of a conversation

A cigarette before ***
May role off your tongue
Tarnished by a society
We constantly run from

A cigarette before ***
When the *** is climatic conversation
And the cigarette is just the breath before
To prepare yourself for the race.

The youth have charged us by storm
You soul is soft, weathered, yet tough.
Even though the thread is thin
We hold tight with a fatal grip.
After prolonged, inevitable erosion
It would make sense to simply let go.

To paint the line we’ve created
A string must measure the length
Of how much time it’s been
To find the end of the string
Is one no soul keeps in mind.
All we unconsciously ache for
Is the end of the line.

How sad that is.

I told you I loved you
When I didn’t love you
Not yet

I told you I loved you
When I didn’t love me
Not yet

I told you I loved you
When you didn’t love you
Not yet

I told you I loved you
When you didn’t love me
Not yet

I told you I loved you
When I did love you
I didn’t know it yet.

I’m in love with you
When I take every breath
I know now.

Picture  a Rubix Cube.
Boxes fixed on an axel
Colored stickers plastered on each one.
If you are missing a piece,
The whole cube will fall apart.

The Cube will collapse.
Did you know?

In your mind, I bet the cube
Was shaped in a perfect box.
Symmetrical sides, 90 degree angels.
Maybe the colors in order, maybe not.
Either way, all parts in tact.

Picture a Rubix Cube.
Each box apart of me,
All Connected, with near infinite combinations.
Every side says something.
What can I show you next...

Is all in clarifying the question.
Why don't you just ask?

I am a Rubix Cube
And you will never solve me.

If you want to try
All you need to do is ask.

Just ask for the answer key!

What if it was us.
The bench held two
The car held two
The trail held two
The sand held two
The stereo held two
What if it was us?

What if it was you.
The bench took your time
The car lifted your spirits
The trial brought your journey
The sand held your footprints
The stereo held your thoughts.
What if it was you?

What if it was me.
The bench held my hopes
The car drove my dreams
The trail took my eyes
The sand held my breath
The stereo held my words
What if it was me?

What if it was us.
What if the bench held our heads
What if the car carried our baggage
What if the trial took our hands
What if the sand caught our falls
What if the stereo said our intentions

What if it was us?

The caution sign is blue
With the font in cursive
And the edges smooth
You said it was okay though.

Blue is no red
With nothing near urgent
The universe sees all
You said it was okay though.

The words are the same
But with a hint of tranquility
That is poorly placed
Cost someone an injury

Leave the caution sign Red
The description wears it worse
Even though it saved some limbs
It never even thought of the heart.

I work in a field all day
To repair garden beds
And to grow new plants
With the destiny to be harvested
Whenever “our hearts desire”.

I work in a field all day
To repair a physical burden
And to grow new dreams
With the destiny to be reached
Whenever “our hearts are able”.

I work in a field all day
To mend a broken soul
And to grow new connections
With the destiny to be healed
Whenever “our hearts become stable”.

I work in a field all day
With the exception of a distraction
Then I look up to the clouds
And get lost in the wonder
Of when “I will find you”.

I work in a field all day
Yet find myself disoriented
Because my eyes have wandered
All over the sky
Making up for “lost time”.

I work in a field all day
Looking forward to heal
Hoping I’ll hear from you today
Knowing the sky is infinite
Just like “the space behind your eyes”.

I work in a field all day
I catch myself staring into the horizon
Remembering the time I saw your eyes
And how indefinite the ending was
Even though “the line seems so close”.

You spoke words of him
That i felt with no one.
The thoughts i placed
Were not mine to take.

You said his hips were close
You said your lips were there.
You said your chest met his
But your mind was elsewhere.

You spoke words of him
That leave me in wonder.
With a kind heart and soul
Why can’t you wander?

I’ m selfish to dream
Of the time his hips could be mine
Of the moment your chest heals mine
Of the day your lips meet mine

If the day arrives
When you feel ready
And the time clicks on
I’ll be here

If the sun rises
When you feel happy
And the waves role on
I’ll be here

If the tree shadows
When you feel worthless
And the flowers wilt
I’ll be here

If the sun sets
When you feel exhausted
And the birds sleep
I’ll be here

If the moon rises
When you feel alive
And the stars sing
I’ll be here

If the day arrives
When you feel ready
And the moments collide
I’ll be here

You know where I’ll be.

It kills me to say

That loving you from afar

Keeps me alive.
A moment to spare

Belongs in your arms

Never to be wasted 

Always to be cherished.

Clocks keep ticking

Hearts keep pounding

Minds keep racing

Dreams keep running.
Clocks keep ticking…

You took a chance on them
Praying to anyone and everyone
While you wandered elsewhere.

You took the money and ran
But the currency wasn’t paper
It was knowledge nobody knew.

You took their hand and ran
Even though it familiarly slipped away
The symbol wouldn’t mean the end

This time.

There on the tar
Lies paint with a purpose
We wander too far
Over the lines of hierarchy
Destined to face the consequences
Set by the ones whose eyes
Have experienced this all before.

Troubled souls state simply
That lines are meant to be crossed
They say this with impulse in limbs
With zero regard for the tarnished ending.
Souls of this demeanor
Will never wholy construct the finish
Solely being because of velocity.

You’ve state the line is blurred
The paint is worn or faded
Yet I still stand here listening.
This road has been shattered by youth
The less weathered assume the sun
Would’ve dried the paint by now.
Little do they know
The paint has always been wet.

I should sleep.
Because daydreaming of what could’ve
Isn’t as fun
As dreaming of what could...

Once a song we yelled until we couldn’t
Is now just a sentence with an instrument
We whisper from different paths.

Gallons of gas later
Leaves a tune who’s remnants
Is a melody I hum from my memory

I jumped off a cliff, and did not want to die this time. The time and preparation I took with a new found value for my life, kept me breathing. The harness I wore hugged my hips I once hated, while the neon rope kept me far above rock bottom. As I clipped into my climbing belay device from the top of the rock rather than the bottom for the first time, I had a revelation; I knew the harness I was wearing held legs that were stronger than ever before, the shoes on my feet kept me scaling above the expected, and the rope I tied into would lead me to stability and adventure. Harnessing the last of my inner strength allowed me to step into the shoes of the man I knew I was meant to be, all while trusting the ropes I learned during the time that I was away. I learned how to love boldly and with transparency.  

Recognizing my ability to love and be loved I set foot on a journey to develop my underlying drive to better the environment. I took the information in like a luffa squash sponge anytime I could, resulting in a vast variety of knowledge. I was taught how to sow, fertilize, maintain and sustain hundreds of species of vegetables, flowers and fruits on seemingly endless lengths of garden beds. Wise mentors and old souls graced me with historical lessons an artifact of how us humans have interacted with the native land for over four centuries. All while highly educated and selfless individuals devoted their time to teaching sustainable and invaluable information to myself and the next generations to come. I want to be one of the wonderful humans who has taught me everything I know about farming and the environment thus far. I want to be a good human too.

Before I started that week in late spring of 2018, I had recently finished pushing myself through my first year at a community college. I was not only grieving the passing of the most incredible person I knew, but I was preparing to lay to rest the female self I once lived for 18 years. I needed to grab onto something to stay in this lifetime. With hard work, maturity, perseverance, self reflectance, and the ability to be honest with myself and others, I healed and I learned. Holding a record of my rapidly growing 1000 hours of environmental and agricultural experience between last farming season and the current one, I continue with an undeniably honest passion for actively learning and striving to create a life I want to be in. Taking the time to restructure my life while connecting with a countless number of unforgettable people to teach and guide me along the way has prepared me for this moment. I am ready for what is next. The time as come to succeed. My name is Neive Doyle, an organic farmer, transmasculine individual with a purpose to save the only earth we have.

You see the skin
I don’t belong in
The shield I wear
Is one you are unaware

The words mean less
When I am in distress
To bring love
I must shove

White is the purest color
Yet is destined to be stained
By anyone of anybeing
With even the slightest
Sign of imperfections

The tarnish is inevitable
Why set a standard of impossibility
When anyone or anybeing
With even the slightest imperfections
Are patiently waiting next in line?

I haven't written in a while
not in lack of words to say
but in a constant denial
of words to feel

I haven't acknowledge my pen in a while
not in lack of physical location
but in constant denial
of words to stay

I haven't acknowledged my book in a while
not in lack of ability to open
but in constant denial
of words to revisit

I haven't acknowledged my feelings in a while
not in lack of valid emotions
but in constant denial
of words I was

that seem to take part
in the line next to my name
alongside my hidden definition

‘Drunk words are sober thoughts’.
What if we don’t drink but we just think?
Who said we need to set a code
Why does our kryptonite need to be a bottle of only god knows what?

‘You act drunk when you’re tired’.
What if we are tired of holding the bottle
Wondering who will open it for you
Who will share this container of  commitment.

The second the top pops off
Untold stories and moments and words will be preached
Liquid courage will fuel the mind that once held secrets of ages

Why can’t we drink a cup of tea and speak till we sleep.

I am a cork covered wall
He stuck me with lust
She pinned me with love
You hit me with a dream

I am a map
He broke me
She showed me
You took me

You took my heart into harbor.

You are my safety.

To feel your mind
Race with mine
Would be a blessing

In the morning
In the noon
In the night
In the moment.

To feel your heart
Against mine
Would be a gift

In the morning
In the noon
In the night
In the moment

To feel your dreams
Next to mine
Would be a present

In the morning
In the noon
In the night
In the moment

To feel your lips
Pressed to mine
Would be a privilege

In the morning
In the noon
In the night
In the moment

To feel your hand
Reach for mine
Would be an experience
I will handle with care
I will take with pride
I will thank with hope
I will hold with love

In the morning
In the noon
In the night
In my life.

We stand here low
Spying close into the glass
But the object has nothing to show

I stand here high
Eyeing into the earth
But you’re steps haven’t touched the sky

You stand here, near
Catching you’re breath
But your heart isn’t slowing.

We stand here tall
For the times have lifted
The dirt roads crossed with sparks.

We are back.