I’ve got so many things to say and I always feel like I’m running out of time.

I’ve realized that some people don’t have a sense of urgency; they just float. These floaters are all around me- some of them are my closest friends. I don’t know if they are concerned about me when I’m running amok, but I believe the truest version of myself is lightly coated in chaos. It’s a bit contradicting, because when I’m not hyped up on caffeine and trying to make sense of every little thing, I can be a bit lazy. Luckily, that same laziness that I find myself stuck in from time-to-time is my fuel to stay up until I make something: something that makes me proud of myself.

Today, my mom said I’ve gotten lazy.

But does she not realize that I am awake until 4am, creating (yet) another literary world that no one other than myself may ever see?

I’ve got so many things to say and I always feel like I’m running out of time.


we decide what we’ll do
and who we’ll do it with,
listen as I tell you:
I’ve always wanted you.

I’d wear all your blame to
taste your name

I’d bear all your shame
to feel the same


I’m a long way from the ocean.
For salty air,
I renounce my despair
and end up among the waves.
I can’t whisk away
every time I have day.
Some days, I’m alone,
even though you promised I would
never be.

-how do I stand beside you when you’re always at the ocean?


I have the heart of a musician but cannot stay in key to save my life. For years, I was distraught knowing there is a passion that I cannot fulfill, but then I met you. I have the heart of a musician; I hope he doesn’t want it back.

-the right key


He says that I have been making so many metaphors that I am starting to look like one.
I fall in love with those words, before asking for an example.
“Which metaphor am I becoming?”
And to my dismay, he can’t think of a single example.
It seems I’m always intrigued by the ones that say the right things,
but I’m also a sucker for things in writing:
the details.
Right now I am sitting in my car and wondering to myself:
Do I want someone who thinks of me as art
Do I want someone who makes me into art?

-the specifics


Mirror me while I mirror you
and maybe we’ll find things out about
ourselves that we’ve never known.
Maybe we’re more like each other than we think.
See, sometimes when I look at you,
I see myself…
And I may be losing it,
but isn’t this more than a reflection?

-you see you too, don’t you?