linear

I am two feet
in front of myself
in sync with the
movements
my skin is a dark purple
and there is a hole
perfect and
circular
in my chest

I look outside and
see the sun shine
in two places

illuminating
the sparkle
and dust
a dark blue

remember what it
felt like to feel it
all at once

heart pulsing
through thick
warm honey

don’t lose the
feeling

walking in ny

A creaky heart
with each inhale and exhale
is a twig holding the
full
red belly of a
little bird that travels nocturnally

Walking past the bar that looks
like a 1920’s gathering
with its yellow round bulbs
decorative and dark borders

The trash on the sidewalk
seems to have come together
through serendipity
for the pleasure of
the moonlight, the streetlight
and the rain from earlier

Treasure from this angle

gratefully sad

The more shit that happens,
the stronger (softer) I become.

I have to go take this face mask off
and brush my teeth

remember that it is all
temporary

every interaction
I had with that person
felt like I was cycling
through all of the emotions

every single one
in the speed of light

thrown into black hole,
and shot out of a cannon,

Lines that are reoccuring
written down

Light

I felt deeply and without remorse,
so much so,
that I was stamped with a label
and imprisoned.

In a moment of sole
feeling,
the mind is lost,
the logic is disregarded.
What is left is the warmth of every single nerve in the body,
electricity.

The light, pulsing
storm like but balanced, with no
shame involved.

I felt,
and I can’t explain fully
because my thoughts weren’t
involved.

Nerves

There is something I need to say,
as I look out towards the bay.
I don’t know what it is
but it lives
in the core of my body.
From the soul to the shaky tips
of my fingers.

How do I put this feeling into words,
without an innuendo of a
lorde.

An urge to communicate in my
fullest capacity,
has my nerves throbbing at the greatest
velocity.

Desire to understand
the human mind,
the color blind.

Only on meds,
does this mind quiet.

Trees

I’m bored and internetless.

This is the perfect opportunity
to read all of the books I have been
meaning to read
and write
all of the poems
I have been meaning to write.

Maybe, I’ll just sit here quietly
and ponder.

Why must I constantly make
a sound?
The trees, just are,
always.

Seen or not seen,
they will continue to radiate beauty
with no need of acceptance
or approval.

This is how I should go through life,
not needing approval.
Like a tall, beautiful tree,
deep in the forest.