Sometimes love is a set of railway tracks,
places your life had passed through.
As my feet balance across the metal rails
I wonder if you are yet far ahead of me
or moments behind.



Speak in such a silent way as to say
sound itself leaves an empty truth.
You resound like an empty room.
They say leave absolutes for two
plus two. They say stories leave
equals for someone else.
Better to complicate to convolutions
until the innocent are suspicious,
until guilty parts are made guiltless.
Their judgement is swift. You say
they deserve this. They felt.
They felt nothing. She smiles,
unsure why anyone would.
Perhaps this is what you’ve asked
begging for a spoken stillness.
You wonder, awestruck, how
droplets touch still water without a sound.


Our minds are always thinking. It does this for you. It makes decisions on moments notice. The minute you see someone, you think things of them you didn’t even realize you were thinking. You will have decided whether to feel inclined to like a person or not. Within second everything from their perceived status to their overall physical attraction will have been determined- before words are even spoken.

This fantastic contraption does everything for you. Within the capabilities of our mind, only a small fraction is brought to our attention at any given moment. We can barely feel the tips of our feet, smell the air we breath, and witness our lungs inhale and exhale all at the same time- much less pay attention to the choices we haven’t realized we’re making.

And you ask me where’s the point if we have no choice: because I learned to love you, and it does all the thinking for you. It doesn’t even feel like love to you anymore. You didn’t choose me. We were all to busy dreaming of what everything was supposed to look like; it was the reason we were all so dissatisfied.

Some will say the earth is discovered

If you look at what defines a shape-
depth and an
outlining expanse you see
everything is in its right place.
Everything fits. Falling
into the right space.
Standards create formalities and laws
upon laws of nature.

When we were kids, each hole
had a cut out. A circle
couldn’t from four separate sides.
We spend our presence
shaping and fitting an entire
entity into our own little box
Until it is preferable, to believe everything
we perceive than follow suit
in the great pursuit for knowledge.


I fell in love with the way you let go of me
Like the ocean and the sea.
You dipped your feet over the sand
and receded leaving nothing but cold
and a darker color
where water had dipped its feet.


She described it in proportion to oceans and stars
as depth for daughters as mothers fell farther
from human comprehension. She buried
through death. death absolute-
resolute in an unabashed
attempt to cover landscapes
far too existent.


Three things I aspire not to be in life:

Part of a love triangle


It’s too easy, comparing despair with hope. We believe in both at a level too strong to tell one from the other. They have too much to do with our future and how we either keep on going or give up.

When you asked why we can’t see God

You cannot control anyone else’s love.
You can only witness hope in their stars.
If you ask them to leave. You test their being.
You will find them at the very precipice of your very existence and,
it almost is eternal unless by the very act of matter pulling closer.
She asks why anyone would wait,
but it is often said love is humanities
greatest gift, given to separate
from our dying existence. Love is not
logical in terms of pleasure.
It demands less. It demands honesty
to the point where distance is a test
not so much of faith, but in the very ability
to choose. The rich are made poor.
Their hunger for love is muddled
by artisans, by those so willing to stretch their arid hands.
If by the act of love, and all my needs aside
I would wait forever where not you could find me
but where you could find my hands preparing for you
in all hopes, yet regardless.


Dazed and confused, I look at how you
shook me. Suddenly out of the blue,
you speak and If not for you,
behind that locked door the art of death
beckons as an unfinished tune.


Funny how you can be doing nothing and your body still isn’t relaxed. We don’t just think. We over think. We over analyze like dogs who chew up the living room carpet. It’s easier not being in a relationship, because it means not having to dig holes at the surface at every little thing. It’s easier being able to not look at people, because our mind run circles around what makes them who we are. Our minds are little moons and planets all circling around things that we think are bigger than us. This is why it’s more often than not easier to be alone, because for a few minutes, your mind stops wandering around every little thing, and you can finally find out where you’re going on your own.



Do you ever get frustrated by how much our society relies on communication? Sure, it’s great, but do you ever wish you could go through the day not talking to anyone, letting go just so you could get through the day. Do you ever feel  frustrated that you have to communicate to get what you need? It’s not about people not existing. It’s just about being able to get things straight for a moment.


May i buy you dinner as a ruse to sit across from you and,
wonder with this quaint sense of awe: how endless stars gleam,
yet not so far between eyelids. No,
go on: in an innocent attempt to witness
how a universe could travel across limited space.
Dictated all too often for consumption and escape,
a moment unsuspecting, You fail to notice my forgetting
save for aesthetics in motion, you pause from existence
and follow me where humanity forgets to speak.


At first i was disappointed. no one likes the same ice cream as me
but then I was like
wait a minute.


We often think about the people who are thinking abut us, and not many can explain this. Perhaps we don’t need to. Perhaps, we gaze from opposite sides of the water and see our own distorted reflection, or is it in our eyes? Worse, for more, for it to be some sort of social standard. The two believing it’s what makes sense. Perhaps this is me thinking people think of me. This is another kind of noise altogether. How quaint it is, only able to escape parts of yourself in places of solitude.