Because I don't live in a vacuum
there is a black hole inside of me.

And it devours words from outside-
pulls them from their mouths
and into the depths of me.

Every line beckons internal anarchy.
Every syllable punctuates my doubt.

I  
  am
        their                                       I
                 thoughts.                        am
                             ­                                     their
                      ­                                                     words.

And I would that within didn't come from without.

i'm sorry

Beautiful.
That's all we want to be.
But who has the power to define beauty? Is it really me?

Can I judge others like a critic?
No. I don't think that's what I'm here for. And what kind of beauty are we talking about, the shallow outside? This case that we're enclosed in? The one we dress up as if it defined our existence?

When we pass away nothing will matter more than the beauty we left behind, the impact we left on others lives not the way we looked today, but the way we made another's day. Beauty isn't simply about appearance-it's all of you as a human being.

Outside a night club:

Are we going to your house?
Sounds dreamy.
You were amazing tonight.
Can you keep a secret?

Outside a quiet house:

Tonight feels like a dream.
Want to come in?
I think you can use a drink.
“**** lady—that’ll work.”


Inside the living room:

Can I ask you something?
I want to probe deep
Inside your mysterious heart,
But first let me change quickly.

Naked on the door:

Want to take bath together?
You are so handsome.
I can’t believe I am living this.
Tonight you can touch me anywhere.

sometimes
being outdoors just hurts
more than the dull ache of a morning with no aspirin
and more than the reflection of the shattered glass under my feet
sometimes
I evolve to cope
(but not often)
from neon paint reminiscent of a traffic stop, streaked across bark
to *** and la croix in trembling hands
sometimes
I wonder how your musician is doing
do you love him like you love frayed brushes and marilyn monroe?
sometimes
I say this is the root of it all.
perhaps my therapist would differ.

Have you ever felt trapped
As though in a prison?
You may be free to leave at any time
But something keeps you "just chillin'"
What is that?
The door's wide open
The whole world is out there
What keeps you inside?
I think it's akin to a misunderstanding
You're waiting for the perfect party
The perfect girlfriend THEN
THEN always THEN
Why not now?
Go outside.
See what's been waiting all this while.

Blinking lights, passing cars, life,
Glazed over before my eyes.
Careening they go with each breath.
I cry, I mourn,
I laugh, I smile,
Each day gets a little more grey.
I try to paint my way but my inner darkness gets in the way.
Our cold little safety blankets can whisper the sweetest things.
They promise warmth and light
But they only bring death.
Yet we snuggle and refuse to leave.
Baby it’s cold outside
How can we ever know when we are so numb?
I really can’t stay
But Baby it’s cold inside.