My life pressed like those perfect folded sheets. Married in steam and good intentions of having life together.

Of course, that always starts with making your bed in the morning and filling the days with things you ought to do.

I'd spent my whole life trying to be this person....

I can't but help miss the stain on my coffee table and my linen sheets sprawled across my floor waiting for my return.

The chaos in my life felt like a harmony of bethovan's seventh symphony. A beautiful orchestrarted master piece I could only make the sense of.

I was an absolutist. Completely content with the messiness of it all. Entirely captivated by the beauty and desire with urge to succumb to it all.

The unequivocal grounding of not giving a **** at all if at least felt good.

I can't help but wonder if the person I'm unbecoming is the person I should be saving.

I’m navigating a field of dark something-ness
Sitting quiet in morning air

In these cavities where my soul perceives life, I seek a heightened energy

Laying hidden behind wrinkled skin
tucked tightly into two beds of compact tissue
in this moment they rest purposefully as if sitting behind window curtains

They serve a common purpose when prompted,
To identify objects in this limiting dimensional plane.

Some days when I come here, I wander aimlessly across battle-torn countries of thought
It is essential to let the river take them
Watching them pass as an observer instead of the instigator
Feeling the depth of their sting grow distant

Sinking deeply into the dimension where we live beyond bodies

Where I am a bee pollinating the flower
I am the bird calling out in a resounding plea
I am the wind pushing through bamboo forests

Until breath inhaling and collapsing my cadaver becomes less of a grounding cord
And the mat placed beneath with intention is no longer a chain to the ground

There is now no face to inhabit,
The world; a faint memory of molding

Here the wind isn’t quite invisible
Temperature is not affected by her power
Bearing colors, intentions and tranquility

I let her carry me up and away

throwing stones
into the lake
i discovered
the dog
likes to chase
the staccato splashes
as the surface
of the water
is broken
with inexpressible joy
pebbles were tossed
individually
and by handfuls
as i watched
the playful bounding
for over
half an hour

unfortunately
i had not spotted
the fisherman
further along
the water's edge
rolling eyes
and shaking head
as wave
after wave
of rippled chaos
disturbed his lure
and line
scaring away
anything
he had hoped
to catch

A good intention

just comes down to self-knowledge --


and being content.

Our conversations are in capital letters,
Is it because we mean it?
Or maybe because we don't.
Are we just exaggerating,
To hide our truest intention?
Is your love for me a façade?

Fat across three ribs of a bright green leaf,
A dewdrop rolled onto my tongue beneath,
Served cold and fresh direct from nature's dish,
Filtered through limestone and the gills of fish,

This immortal moisture once ran like oil,
Down an ancestors back doubled in toil,
Laden with memory mossed on their tomb,
It nourished their children warm in the womb,

Through fauna and flora time and again,
Their essence combined recycled as rain,
A powerful force that dribbles and slings,
Dictating life to perishable things,

With a solution of all it has known,
Returned to the sea through everyone's home.

Love is my lifestyle of choice
It's definitely not easy
But it is my fuel
Powers my voice
Of reason
To act out of care
Speak with kindness
Carry enough compassion to spare