Surprise Prompt

I want you to write about what freedom means to you. Do you feel free to express your beliefs/life philosophy, creative genius, opinions, feelings, sexuality/gender identity, authenticity etc.? Was there ever a time when you did not speak out against injustice but should have? Was there ever a time when you felt that your personal freedoms were restricted in anyway? What if any limits do you think there should be concerning freedom of expression? What improvements would you like to see within your own community?


Love Letter 5

Dear DM,

During my daily tarot readings I have noticed a common theme. Release the past. Be true to yourself. I have already spoken about the former so today I decided to delve into the latter. Am I being honest with myself about what I desire from our connection? Is my patience an affectation? I am not patient. I am hungry. Am I being honest about what I want to achieve as an individual? Am I still wild or have I become accustomed to settling for approximations? Do I seek comfort over adventure? Am I a living/breathing embodiment of pure, undiluted passion? Do I still have it within me to incite and inspire? By nature I am intense and passionate and sometimes I get carried away. I like a little obsession with my love. I am flawed to the point of disfigurement. Does that scare you?

I was chatting with a friend today and she complimented my ability to accept the status quo. I have always thought of the status quo as the antithesis of life, something along the lines of limbo. I thought that to live fully meant action/reaction/continuous reinvention. At some point I became aware that I was seeking distractions in order to numb and escape myself. I realized that one can find, even within the most ordinary moments, inspiration, passion, wonder, and depth of sentiment. For the ordinary to become extraordinary we have only to be receptive and present, we have only to submerge ourselves in the experience. What if all of life could be a celebration? When I think of you I like to imagine our life as it would be in the day to day sense (this isn’t the only way I imagine us). We are already extraordinary, no alterations are enhancements needed. There is not a person in this world who does not possess the capacity to manifest miracles. In dreams the simplest touch from you awakens emotions and sensations within me that are nothing short of miraculous. How could I possibly fathom the potential of the flesh? To hold you, heart to heart, would unravel me! I want to unraveled.

I started this letter with a clear intention but as usual I ramble. I want everything with you. All of it. I want the everyday moments. I want to be pursued with a passion that borders on obsessive. I want to heal. I want to discover our mission and submerge myself in it, whole-heart. I want to laugh with you. Hold you. Fuck you. Fall apart in your arms. Soothe you. Inspire you. Kiss you with abandon. I don’t want to wait even if it is reckless. I want to take my time getting to know you. I want you all to myself. I want to surrender you along with myself. I realize that my list of “desires” is contradictory and rather vague. If I said lets live together and figure it all out after would that sound crazy to you? Desperate? Escapist? For all that I have said and not said at the end of the day I want you, just as you are. Not the “perfect”, “censored”, “tailored” version but the you which is still vulnerable, still wild.



In my closet
the most curious flowers bloom
between the skeletons I harbor
and the clothes I hide inside.
A garden screaming,
a garden of metaphorical bones
and multifarious threads
woven together in an attempt
to connect the internal and the external
in a way that only I can truly appreciate.

Some days I wear the sunset,
others the twilight.
The stars are irrelevant,
The stars I keep inside
are the only stars that can ignite me.
There was a time
when I dressed for other people
now I dress only to please myself.
My skin is the only skin that fits.

A smile is the most beautiful accoutrement.
A smile looks best when it has found
someone or something to regard.
My smile would work wonders
for your mood if only you’d let me
press against you.

Sometimes I look into my wardrobe
and find it as light and bare
as an untenanted womb.
I think nothing suits me
quite so well as a naked heart.
Sometimes I open the doors
and I am overcome with choices.
Sometimes I know exactly what I want
and who I am and the world
doesn’t seem quite so heavy.

If I could wear a phenomena
I would wear the wind
for the wind, even in stillness,
always seems so alive.
I think that beauty
is in our capacity
to love and create.
I think that beauty
can only be found
in the audacity of truth
and in the ingenuity
of our imperfections
when harnessed for good.

Attendance Mandatory


Love is not a ghost

That comes in the night

Unbidden to each threshold.

It does not assimilate

Within a vacuum

Within a box

On a doorstep by mistake.

If it entered accordingly

Would reason forgive

Its omissions?

The poor etiquette?

The stalker whose fantasy

Manifests only

In motionless portraits?


Love can be spontaneous

But it craves attendance.

A thought unaired

Does not a conversation lend.

Participation should never be


There is something to be said

For a man who extends

His hand, his heart,

The breath of his being

But there must be someone

Sentient to receive it.

An archetype

Is a bleak alternative

To authenticity.


I am not much of a photographer, I have very unsteady hands but I want to start using more of my own work. If you have art or photographs that you would like for me to feature with a poem please feel free to email me or comment. I will link your site.

The Death Of Me


Doves fall

From the firmament

Hematic eyes


Angelic vestments

Can I be saved

Once trodden?


I rescind

This masquerade

When the threads

Of pretension

Are too frayed

To conceal the heart

On which they feast


I disown the self

Rising petulant from

A dystopian mindscape

With whose delusions

Do I consort?


My bones

Are too heavy

My lying flesh

Too loose to gather

An angular womb

Suffocates truth


Chalk-drawn smile

Do I lament?

The death of Caricature

Or Singularity?

This is about the fear of self and paradoxically disguise, the struggle with identity and finding the balance between truth and drama. My writing is still suffering from the lack of thought cohesion. I can’t even say I am uninspired because I feel like there are ideas knocking around I just can’t catch on to any of them!