Getting too used to Night Shifts (it’s 4AM, no sleep)

A mile is a lot farther when you don’t have feet. What did people do before airplanes? I guess horizons meant more. There were some things that were unimaginable.

I know a man without feet. Sometimes he asks the aides to clip his toenails, and then laughs at them. He went to a meeting once (regarding whether he was satisfied with his care). He didn’t talk for those 30 minutes. Just sang. “My liiiiiiitle buckarooooooooooo.” Bitterness//absent, he’s a miracle like the kind that make you believe in God again.

His horizons though. I’ve been more of a caged bird than him (yeah that time I don’t talk about). You can almost never escape yourself, and I’d feel foolish for trying, but then again I used to be in that business, trying as a full time job, no benefits, no retirement plan.

Lately .. Getting these bars to mutate into something though.

Sometimes I can see the sun from here. Sometimes I can hear the clouds.



things are capable of changing
ice to water to smoke
over the course of a year

my heart has unfolded

the way a garden worships


rebuilding itself from multiple
warzones of
a winter that has
gone on far too long

I can’t think where my
demons have gotten to
perhaps swatted dead
like flies while I’ve

it took
less than twelve months
to finally be able to awaken
into a dark blue that is
only deepening with



time traveler. The past is looking more and more surreal every day.

you ever find yourself crying on an examination table to a doctor who insists you’re only sad because it’s winter?

you ever find yourself unable to even disagree because your confidence level is zero and you have de-evolved to something almost unrecognizable to anyone who knew you before?


Submit to love without thinking,

as the sun this morning rose recklessly
extinguishing our star-candle minds.


and then the God-Please-Kill-Me-Right-Now hits.

just submitted a confessional poetry piece for my poetry class

(SPOILER ALERT:  Melodrama)  I am so nervous.  baring my soul to a class full of strangers…. ughhh I feel like puking.  It’s a decent poem though.


maybe I can just live as if I’m being reborn every moment.  no past, no regrets, just endless future.

I don’t think the quality of this is very good.  just look it up on spotify.

i’m a mess, happy or otherwise, depending on the day.