it always starts as a stroll. we pass the same street corners every day, the same homeless man sitting under the same tattered umbrella. it never crossed my mind to invite him on our walk, but in my defense, he does not seem like the kind of person that would happily accept an invitation to a lovely afternoon in the park. though i don’t invite him to our daily walks, i do continually make an effort to spark up conversation with him. but things changed last week, when we took our last stroll, and nothing looked quite the same. i felt like i had to absorb every inch of the sidewalk, keep my voice down so i could remember the sound of your laugh for forever, keep my eyes on your facial features . i loved your laugh, its warmth radiated through my entire body; if i concentrate hard enough, i can almost feel the tingling sensation spread through my arms.

i go on walks alone now. the same street corners, the same homeless man and the same tattered umbrella. but this time, i decided something would be different. i asked him, the homeless man, if he would come on a walk with me through the park. i cannot possibly describe the smile that spread across his face, the sudden light i saw ignite from somewhere within this man.

his name is emerson,

and he is so wonderful.


8:16 a.m. thoughts

constantly reminded to

respect your elders,

mind your manners,

speak only when

spoken to.

but what is

there to do,

when these people

that are supposed

to shroud you

from evil

and help you


leave you in

the squalor and


show nothing but

utmost respect for

these unfortunate individuals,

quiet your tears


ignore the






all i can remember is the linoleum,

it felt like electricity

on the bare soles of my feet.

i think i prayed for the first time,

the night before.

i asked for forgiveness from

our Lord,

but i don’t know if He’s

particularly interested in my

hideous sin of the day.

life begets life,

without choice that is.

but now the lotus is wilted,

and the decision has

long been made.

2 something

a lazy poet

too exhausted to pick up the pen

laying on my floor

staring desperately into my ceiling fan

whirring away

in an empty room

the second one on

the left

just up the stairs

you’ll find me

with starry eyes and visions

of grandeur

and grace

but not a single ounce

of willpower.





when feeling rushed

a look up from the bottom and you’d think that i was flying, but i’m coming down to be with you. i know it’s been lonely and i haven’t been there, but i won’t leave your side ever again i promise. you’re okay now. don’t worry about me, my descension to the depths isn’t turbulent, it’s soft- in fact i’m floating. gliding next to the tarnished interior isn’t all that bad, but the brick walls are cracked and covered in ash. what was burning? are you okay my darling? i’m so worried but i love you so much. please be okay, i’m coming. don’t leave before i get there, i remember that exhaustion and how it took you from me for days. i can’t lose you again. i’m hurrying but it’s dark and i can’t breathe and i’m trying so hard please forgive me please

forgive me.

i’m coming.

hold on my


i’m coming.


12:03 pm

very few times in my life have i found people worth keeping in my repertoire. i think certain people come into your life at certain times to help you continue living, to shed light on you darkest parts, and to show you how to love (how to revive yourself after the great few and walk away from the dull ones). it is a joyless existence without love and companionship, one that i don’t think i’d be able to endure. i am terrified of abandoning my youth and going out into the world, the vulnerability will consume me. i don’t want to fade into a miserable existence, i refuse to.