i just need everything to slow down. now. it’s going too fast and i can’t keep up. running with wild horses. my mind is going a million miles a minute and my thoughts are anything but good. i crawl an inch and ravage a mile, set it ablaze and step back in awe. i wouldn’t mind free falling from the top floor of some building right now. i highly doubt that it would excite my already racing system. the worst part is that none of this is expressive. too many glares and misheard accusations to accurately communicate my emotions. god all i want is to be calm, to experience silence, but the music is too loud and i can’t hear the quiet. someone save me from my own desires, rescue me from my self perpetuated demise. i am breathless. where is my serenity. where is my sanity. I WANT I want i want. The whining is overwhelming. pathetic whimpers without noble cause. I’m on the verge of nothing, spent from venturing too far from my comfort zone. maybe that’s it. maybe chaos isn’t my comfort anymore, i have sought out refuge and found nothing but dry soil and wilted flowers.



never hide

when there is a search

never run

when there is a fight

be noble baby

show courage darling

sacrifice yourself for the good of

your country

and do not fear the great beyond

swim in the waters of the unknown

and gladly die by the hands of another

because this is the mother country

and you owe your life

for the pursuit of liberty

a kind

i want the kind of love that leaves me breathless and reeling.

the kind i can kindle a fire by,

and find comfort in during sleepless nights.

i want to wage war with the mind,

i want my heart to overcome

my better judgement.

i want the kind of love i imagine for my children,

a pure, unscathed love.

a sunday morning and coffee in

rocking chairs kind of love.

i don’t ask for much,

and i do not often search,

but one day,

i will have this kind of love.


on death

i plan for it to be painless and swift.

but who knows what it’s like,

what truly waits on this elusive

“other side”
i’m not quite sure.

maybe i’ll be twenty three,

in a car accident.

or maybe,

when i am 73,

my heart will simply just


i hope however i go,

that people will come to my funeral,

and leave peonies on my grave.

i hope my mom is long-gone,

and that my children will miss me.

i cannot wish for anything more

than any other human,

for a satisfying life,

and an ethereal departure.




the makers of treachery

and the children of sin

shall not abdicate power

to the pure,

nor the folly.

we shall not surrender,

until the hot ash of the city

glows red,

and the fragile minds of

the faithful

perish in this inevitable




afternoon obsessions

why can’t i think? rejection plagues my mind, i feel insufficient in every human way possible. i once thought of myself as an accomplished writer, my work was intimate and i was flourishing. have i simply peaked? where has my growing space disappeared to? why oh why can’t i write beautiful things anymore? maybe i need sadness, maybe i need pain. a shock to my system so severe that it leaves me debilitated and throbbing. maybe i need salvation, maybe i need saving. as of right now i cannot depend on myself, i cannot depend on fleeting happiness and i cannot rely on the thrill of the moment. maybe i need direction, or maybe i need structure. maybe i’m utterly useless. maybe.