An exercise in patience. Sonata number 7.

Oct 14

Girl, what does it sound like when nobody is blowing you up? Can you handle that kind of quiet?

Fighting this war with words, and another one bites the D U S T

But damn, it’s so captivating how everyone loves to watch a bird in a birdcage. How’s the show? Were my lips painted perfectly? Did I balance the facade you wanted with just enough edginess, that you left feeling like there’s something special? Did I challenge you?

Are you thinking? Or are you still just using?

If I work hard enough and make you feel, open your eyes, does that count for something?

Edginess desperately seeks soft, quiet. Take this ball of nervous energy. Use it. Use me. Calm me. Tell me its ok to be quiet. Tell me you see.

Or don’t. I’ll still kill it in the morning and leave all your heads spinning.


-Hummingbird heart, out.

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Thoughts echo loudly when confined to a skull

Dec 27

The noise is so loud. Everything and nothing is so terribly loud right now. But this sentiment like most others this year, is one giant excuse. No matter which way you cut it – whether embracing the noise, contributing to it or making better silence, change is paramount to progress.

Let’s get real. Let’s get raw. Words have always been my bullets and I’m locked and loaded. Let’s paint. We may never recover from this intoxicating trip, but wouldn’t that be the most beautiful and desirable of all possible outcomes?

The time has come the walrus said, to take some goddamn risk.

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And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.

Dec 02

I want to be the poet that lives inside your pocket, witty and ready to spring into action but in the most natural of ways. The comfort of the next rung on your ladder, which you reach for instinctively and almost blindly – yet with the most natural and instant sense of quiet gratitude once I’ve helped you lift yourself wherever you want to be.

Au natural on a tired Tuesday night.

Au natural on a tired Tuesday night.

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It is both a blessing and a curse.

Nov 19

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. And yet I find myself shivering in the bone splintering cold. This is it. This is all we get. For me, life has always been a theatrical event even when I’ve wanted to be, or have been, in the darkest of audience shadows. A play between loving and living, bathed in a non-stop light show fueled by self imposed aspirations for some magical balance. It’s a nonstop light show because the balance doesn’t exist. It never did and it never will – not the way we have crafted it in our pictures and our minds. And all the while, this ridiculously loud light beams down on a 24/7 circus, begging the performance go on…go on.

After so long, and it isn’t very long…the stench of burning plastic and metal starts to permeate the space we’ve chosen to host our amazing spectacle of a show. It starts to stink, the air gets a little hazy, and the crowd stops buying tickets. Sometimes, that crowd which feels so vast is really just an audience of one. It’s an audience of one and the plastic is burning off of your lights. You can’t put makeup or electrical tape on this one.

It’s you. It’s yourself. Playing out these parts as love and living compete for the spotlight while refusing to compromise…refusing to even take intermissions. And everything goes black.

You sit there in a hazy confusion, wondering why or how on earth things seem to have slammed so hard and so fast into the wall. How you let the lights burn through themselves, when it feels like just yesterday you were designing the scaffolding. And for a moment, just after your face hits the rigid brick wall that is IMPERFECTION, you remember just how important it is to bring your own light to the darkness.

This is it. You feel like this is it. But you know the show must go on, and you’ll live to see another day and you’ll do it all over again. “Maybe tomorrow.”

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Can’t shake this feeling now.

Jul 02

I know that we are upside down.

But hearts keep beating, chests keep rising as breath keeps flowing and minds keep racing. We can call it biology or universal coincidence, the acts of an age-old scientific process simply playing out it’s scenes until known or unknown forces call for curtain close. We can chalk this up to the repetition that characterizes insanity, we can question every thought and every word while wasting precious minutes of what in reality is, the grand finale – because the truth is, there is only one take in this film.

Or we maybe we can just stop hearing what other people think about us and our lives, and listen to what they need in theirs. The grand illusion of making the world a better place through self discovery and patent leather polished, self-serving acts is exhausting. And quite frankly, a total waste of what could be one heck of a grand finale.

I’m going to keep it moving, be classy and graceful.

Find the joy, and let it burn through the pain.

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