It’s an illusion that you could hurt each me.

It’s an illusion that you could hurt me,

I’m much too strong and old;

My bones are flowing lava,

that had one day run too cold;

My eyes are looming mountains,

and my shoulders are the cliffs;

Where tender hearts like yours may fall,

to dangle at my hips;

Now you, young river, saw my chest,

with the gaping hole inside;

So stoically you flowed to fill it,

fearing with it, I may die;

But it was an illusion I was crying,

I was merely breathing deep;

So you filled my eyes with tears,

So you could “heal” me while I sleep;

But you found I wasn’t sad,

nor was I in any pain;

So down my narrow valleys,

You let your poisoned water drain;

You thought that you could hurt me,

You believed that rivers could cut rock;

That you could turn my once strong mountains,

into finely grated chalk;

And because you may seep through me,

you might think you’ve won this war;

But I’m the earth and you’re the ocean,

And all know you’ll never reach the core.


Blinded by a light you can’t see.


I was a star

And you lived in the city

You called out my name

And you said that you knew me


Well what did you know?

Well what did you know?


You looked at the sky

And you said that you saw me

But with these streetlights

I’m much too hard to see


I’m not bright enough

I’m not bright enough


Well maybe you’re just alone

Talking to no one

Grasping for threads

And trying to get the job done

Now I may be a star

But I’m not as a bright as it may seem

So what are you looking at

When you think you’re looking at me


You asked me a question

But I can’t speak clearly

Amidst all this noise

You said that you heard me


Well what did you hear?

Well what did you hear?


You laid on your back

And cried to the ceiling

You thought I was there

You said I was helping


But I wasn’t there

I wasn’t there

You Hate When I Hesitate

Maybe I’m hesitant

because I’m not

a rule


A dream


My heart

lives on

a pace-


I don’t


the boundaries

I let them

hug me;

Let them


and tug me;

I like the lines

that I don’t cross

because they love me;

They light the sky

above me;

Maybe I’m hesitant

because the plan

that leads me



and lifelessly;

Has left me


And no,

it’s not


that like a dog

I’m forced

to heal;

But I can’t help

that when the

bell rings

I’m conditioned

to drop


the things;

I was doing

so I can

complete a task,

of anything

that they

would ask;



I know

that you hate

when I start

to hesitate;

But I can’t help

what I

was taught

to do

because when you’re


like a dog

you start to act




Slur Your Words


Slur your words

and tell me how it feels

To not know what to say

To not know what to think

To not know what to do

Slur your words

and tell me how it feels

when everything you thought was true

rolls off your tongue

in a way

that even you

can’t understand

Slur your words

and close your eyes

and tell me what it’s like

to feel both blind

and silenced


you know that feeling

so well.

When You Enter the Hideout:

When you enter the hideout:

Drop your teeth in the hall

I don’t wish to hear them chatter

Hang your skin in the closet 

I hate to see your goosebumps

Wipe your nails on the rug

It makes me nervous when you sand them to the quick

Hang you hair on the rack

I don’t like the way you shake it when your angry with me

and you’re always angry with me

so leave your being at the door

and enter with the soul intention of staying

I’ll meet you where the ducks cross.


I’ll meet you where the ducks like to cross the road

So that I can tell you about my ache

Over and from my shoulder blades

Down and through my knees

Up and around my neck

I’ll meet you there where the ducks cross the road

I know that you know

Where that is

I’ll play you my favorite song

It’s about a girl

That is stuck behind bars

I’ll meet you where the ducks like to cross

And we can lay in the street

I’ll put my hands behind my head

And stare up at the sky

And wiggle my toes back and forth

I’ll talk to you like you’re there

I’ll meet you there where the ducks cross

Where the cars drive too fast over the hills

And they throw their hands in the air

instead of on the wheel

I’ll meet you where the ducks cross

Next to the road where you died

We’ll watch the careless cars go by

And curse at them

And watch them crash

Over and over again

And I’ll tell you about how much

I hate ducks


I was fishing for myself.


I was fishing for a thought

Something to pull me from these depths

I was throwing in the line to catch my creases

and folds

To seize my chances

and my mistakes

I was tossing the bait to my insecurities

and languish

I was fishing for a crooked smile

and a tear

Something to make me feel

I was trying to find the trinkets of my memory

and the beads of my conscious

I was fishing for the pages of my love

and the songs of my hatred

I was sitting on the dock waiting for familiar tug

to pull me in the water

So I could feel the abyss of my mind

So I could try and wrangle it into

something that I could touch

Something that I could control

I was fishing for the pieces so that I could

sew them all together

And look at the picture

not to admire it

but to wonder how it got that way.

I guess I was

fishing for myself.



These trees are a trap.

5 October 2016

It was night time

Time under stars

Stars of gold and white

White was where I lived

White like the moon

The moon, an endless eye

Eye of white

White as the light reflected off the water

Water under trees of oak and sycamore

Sycamore was where I lived

On a street that was always cold

Cold even under stars

Stars that drooped and jumped

Jumped over chimneys filled fire

Fires lit for a purpose

A purpose to warm the cold

Cold was where I lived

By a lake that is filled

Filled with clear water

Clear water that everyone says is blue

Blue is the color of tissue boxes and birds

Birds are blue

Blue is not the color of water

Water flows the lies

Lies was where I lived

On the sidewalks there are weeds

Weeds that grow

Grow just like any other flower

Flowers are treated with respect

Respect is not treated to the weeds

Weeds was where I lived

Stars still sit in that sky

That sky that’s always cold

Cold was the water

Water that is clear

Clear, not blue

Blue is the color of birds

Birds can’t fly away where I live

I live where the birds are stuck

Stuck in the sycamores and on the telephone wires

Wires are everywhere, where I live

I live where wires string through the stars

Stars that are supposed to live in the sky

Sky so filled with wires

Wires that lace down fences

Fences around empty houses

Empty houses that have wires

Wires down their sides

Sides strung with wires

Wires was where I lived

Sometimes I ask, why so many wires

Wire that drain the stars

Why so many caged birds,

Birds that cannot fly

Why so many weeds

Weeds not treated like they are alive

Why so many lies

Lies that water is blue

Why so much cold

Cold that lights our fires

Why so many trees

Trees that cage more than birds

Why a moon

A moon that makes me feel too small

Why stars

Stars that light the sky with a looming brightness that isn’t bright

Bright is a concept that none of us know

Known not because things are not bright here

Here things emit no light

Or maybe they do

And I have no light to see them

For all I see

Is a cold street

A cold street with venomous trees

Trees that trap birds

Birds that sit on wires

Wires that drain stars

Stars that loom next to the moon

The moon, an eye across water

Water that is clear

Clear like the sidewalks

Sidewalks that know no mercy on weeds

Weeds are foreign

Foreign as I for all I see on this street is a dungeon

While others see the suburbs

The world is not a rubix cube pt 1 – unfinished

27 September 2016

(In honor of an “unfinished theme”, I am doing this instead of all of the physics and chem homework that I have:))

Also, this is a rough cut of some ideas that I have and I realize that it doesn’t really all go together but I just wanted to get it down.

Well we grew up

and left this place

traded in our masks

for our own face

You turned in your car

to take the train

while I packed my bags

to board the plane

You went east and I went west

we fell apart

anyone would have guessed

but now and then I’ll touch the stars

and laugh at all of these petty scars 

because out there where the world was clear

I knew that you were always near

my mothers says, now you look sad

I say it’s cause love was once a thing I had

but this world is just one big bouncy ball

for this war I would call a draw

the time passes and I’m still here

drowning in this tasteless beer

Because this world is not a rubix cube

I can’t just twist the sides

or rearrange the colors 

until we were eye to eye

This world is not a rubix cube

I can’t throw it in the air

pull off all the pieces

like I pulled out all my hair

This world is not a rubix cube

theres no beginning or no end

Maybe if this world was a rubix cube

I could be with you again

Your Eyes Were A Hike

19 September 2016

Disclaimer: Sorry that it has been so long since I posted last, even though their probably isn’t anyone reading these.

I was so used to the calming sea,

drawing only blue

surrounded by only ocean;

I had only ever looked into eyes

that reminded me of the sky;

Eyes that flew with the birds,

and swam with the fish;

Eyes that would cry when they were sad

or squint when they laughed;

I thought that eyes could only show me the world,

if they were a strong gust of wind

in a reflective sky

or a wave in a transparent ocean,

that chased me down the shore;

I thought that blue

were the only eyes

that I could fall into;

because they were the deep end

of a shallow world;

the wide expanse

of a small planet;

and it’s true that when I looked into your eyes

that I didn’t see the world as it was

in oceans

and seas

or lakes

and ponds;

as it was in my glass of water

and my tears

and the soft kiss of rain;


when I looked in your eyes

I saw the world as it was

in the trees

and the dirt

as it was in the ground

and through the air;

When I looked in your eyes

I saw the roots of the trees

anchored beneath the grass

spitting and swirling every which way;

I saw through the water

that they told me was blue,

when it really wasn’t;

and I saw the life

in its rugged beauty;

your eyes were a hike

through the mountains,

with my hands sifting through the rocks

and my skin plastered with the kind of sweat

that makes you feel alive;

your eyes were not the chaos of indigo

or the abstract of sapphire

they were the warm caress of coffee

and the soft sway of a ponytail

when I look into your eyes

I don’t feel the rain send a shiver down my spine

I feel my feet sink into the dirt almost as fast

as my heart into your hands.