I reserve the right

To wrestle with my

Cranberry and Vodka

On a 6 hour flight

To nowhere

In fact,

I seldom use air

As a method of transportation.

Not for fear or

Lack of elation.

It’s just arrogant

Remember Icarus

and how he soared

above us all?

Well,

I don’t mind feeling

So small.

It’s a mechanism I use

When facing skepticism;

Shrinking to the occasion

unless I’m filled with liquid courage.

Only then,

Am I bullet proof.

but I can’t hold my alcohol

I prefer Chai tea anyway

But she’ll never hear my voice

Which means

I’ll never hold her hand

or meet the World’s demands.

I know my strength

I’m just not into heavy lifting.

Sifting through the madness,

Hiding in a Greyhound station

with the runaways

I see my reflection in their eyes.

Everything in life is fleeting

and my characteristics

are just customs;

Escapists tendencies.

I want to be heard

sometimes

I want the girl

with the ukelele

with the voice of an angle

to know how Beautiful

i think she is

But when I speak

My words take form

of the twice told joke

and

the only thing worse

than false laughter

Is Silence.

so I find comfort

in Paperback Daydreams

I spend my days talking to the trees.

They do not talk back

Unless you’re really listening.

You may figure out,

In time,

This poem isn’t really about

anything

But

Thank you for listening

Anyway

3:03 pm  •  13 May 2013  •  2 notes

We dreamed of

Sand castle catacombs

In rolling hills as green as

The paper,

We’ve put all our hope into

The unnatural.

There are spirits in this valley,

We used to play on the tire swing,

Soft faced saviours running barefoot through the infinite yonder.

To exist is not to live

And then,

We were alive.

Chasing fireflies and finger painting and playing on the monkey bars,

Nightlife meant night lights

And all we could see were the stars.

We were luminescent,

We were boxcar racers.

Even when we were far away,

When summer camp meant

A void

That stung like a lost tooth and fresh blood flow,

The trickle down affect.

I have taken pictures of yesterday,

Tattooed them on the inside of my eyelids so that I never forget,

I miss you still.

But in your absence,

Seeded memories deep within my chest cavity

Allowed the flowers to grow.

No one visits gardens anymore as adults,

We’ve grown too tall

To fall through the constellations.

Consumed by debt from a false currency,

We’re still playing make believe

We’re all fifty cents away from a quarter and five minutes behind.

Time consumes us

We all walk the same path,

But when problems start coming with titles and billing addresses,

We tend to disband and overstress.

I have not yet learned to

Let go.

I still chase sunsets

Like a lost DOG on a conquest to find GOD

All I do is move backwards

1:42 pm  •  1 March 2013  •  2 notes

for Sarah

Mountain top angel

Sorry for slouching

I know how improper etiquette

Sends you into a frenzy.

Don’t forget to wipe your nose

Before dinner.

Your weathered face

Reminds me of the daydream

I had years ago.

The bend of the highways,

Infinite and

Closer to god

Than I ever wanted to be.

See,

I still believed then.

Two weeks in,

The soft winds greet me every morning

I was under the impression that nothing speaks here,

Hollywood is where all things come to light

Sunset boulevard is where the vampires hide,

I’ve been wandering the streets for days now Angel,

I am sorry that I’m not beautiful enough

For your machine

I come from the city of

Broad shoulders

So I hide in Venice

With valor

With the maniacs

In the shade because,

As beautiful as it is,

Sometimes the sunshine

Can be too powerful

2:32 pm  •  25 February 2013  •  2 notes

Life’s a bitch

And then you die

That’s why we get high

Real shit

The tree burns infinite 

I’m just here

I swear

Til this day,

This very moment,

I still don’t know how

It happened 

On the same block

Marvin Gaye was assassinated

Real shit.

The sun god giveth

Yet,

Chicago still

Holds my heart heavy

Real shit.

Let 

Go

There is beauty in

The breakdown

The tears that choke are

Of happiness?

Uncertainty?

This is

Freedom

6:42 pm  •  19 February 2013

(Painting credit goes to the artist whose name I never got while in a bar in San Antonio during a layover)

When you refused to travel

To see me

My last night in town

And I 

Didn’t even put up a fight,

That was the very moment

I knew 

We 

Would have to

Go through Life

Without eachother

5:05 pm  •  19 February 2013  •  4 notes

I am not here to feel comfortable

I’m here to save the world

However, 

There is a distinct difference

Between feeling alone 

And 

Actually being a foreigner

I am alien to them

Alas,

I am the maniac

4:45 pm  •  16 February 2013  •  5 notes

I’ve decided to go down to the shore

Write down stuff,

Empty myself

Of the heartache

And of the pain that comes along with breathing,

Take in the mountains

Become one with the ocean,

The birds and the stars

Get accustomed to the sand in my shoes

And a new set of problems that

Vary by region

I miss you,

I’m going back home to the west coast.

I wish you would’ve packed yourself into my suitcase

This is the dream

I am becoming.

I’ve decided to go down to the shore

Write down stuff

I am here

With the sun

But I have yet to leave

This room

3:12 pm  •  16 February 2013  •  8 notes

A fear of structure

I toss in my sleep

Dreaming of the fairytale love affairs

I lust the fresh air

But

I am sure to find smog.

City of angels,

Sweet mother of god,

Be kind to a stranger

I am just passing through this

Human experience

1:59 pm  •  4 February 2013  •  2 notes

The man with bread

Often frowns at the sight

Of the man without.

5:16 am  •  2 February 2013  •  8 notes

So we get to the bottom of the bottle

and there are little messages swirling,

like capsized sailors,

reading

“will you remember me in the morning?”

And she says

“Ashes to ashes. What we’ve done is in the past.”

Nothing lasts

Except the infinite now

I am time traveling

Through the cosmos again

Looking for the bird I’ve become

Broken wing, rainy day and on the pretty girl next doors front steps

She. must. be. the. yin.

We make eye contact

Immediately I know

I want to hold the umbrella for her

Accidently in love

Well,

Shit happens

4:04 pm  •  12 January 2013  •  9 notes