When I think of you
I am smaller
can't even touch you
I am a monster
but I can't scare you

numerous knifings

heartache

“ Do you know the most surprising thing about heartache?
It doesn’t actually kill you. Like a bullet to the heart, or a head-on car wreck, it should.
When someone you’ve promised to cherish forever says, “I never loved you,” it should kill you instantly.You shouldn’t have to wake up day after day after that, trying to understand how in the world you didn’t know."

i love this picture.

i think i kinda need this

Is there a more pleasing sound than the tearing of tag after tag? The popping of plastic threads, followed by a fistful of little paper tickets displaying worth. I am powerless to the highs and lows of frivolous spending, being swept from store to store by violent currents of greed. The sight of my own gawking face in the reflection of new patent leather. As I walk out the door with crisp fabric encasing my skin I feel like this is who I want to be. This is who I was supposed to be all along but haven’t had the chance. Not until I found this perfect item that compliments who I think I may be perfectly. I went to a poverty stricken country to try and gain perspective on my financial situations, seeing those people live with so little. I just found myself at the markets trying to buy my way into their culture. Wanting to own their simplicity one trinket at a time. I’ve always had a fascination with newness. I contribute my return to school every fall to this factor. For the sole purpose of purchasing school supplies. Hearing that satisfying crack as I pull open the cover of a brand new book. Pages and pages of crisp clean notebook paper before me. The smoothness of young ink on papers white flesh. This wanting is like a spoiled lover. Never makes me happy but the need to own, leaves me frustrated and always wanting more. The need to choose things, to choose things that will coordinate with my life, or the life I envision. This wanting consumes me, the yearning to be wrapped in newly woven fabrics. When I get was I want I feel empowered, I feel just like everyone else. But at the end of the day when my new finds are balled up on the floor, reeking of yesterdays hopefulness I am defeated once again. Defeated by the idea that nothing remains new.

Growing Up

When I think of you I think of your big hands, like baseball mitts. 
Our breakfasts together, slowly dripping honey over a bowl of cheerios in the morning. 
You slicing bananas with your pocket knife. 
Its funny to me that after all of these years and through all of these situations, that you haven’t changed at all. 
You still use that pocket knife for everything.
I remember the smell of the glue you would use after a bad night. 
Gluing on the end of the table that gave in to your pounding fists. 
You still whistle all day long and your enormous key collection still jingles from your belt as you walk. 
I miss seeing you walking towards me with your head cocked to one side, eyes squinting in the sun. Smelling of simple orange and old spice. 
Your Sunday ties. 
Sitting in the recliner with your glasses on snickering over books I would never read. 
Books about the President, books about how things used to be. 
Only pausing to tell me exactly why this country is going to shit. 
I miss your stories about being young and wild , when the price rose to 60 cents you threw your pack of cigarettes out of the car window and never bought another pack. 
I used to pick you flowers every afternoon and wait to hear the crunching of the gravel under your tires as you pulled up. 

Growing up complicates things in ways I never expected. Everything gets crowded with things that shouldn't matter. Every year a new calloused layer forms,separating us, distancing people further and further until I'm just not sure of anything

Nights on the Amazon

I remember laying in a hammock in the middle of the jungle one night, just listening. The sound of the jungle at night was so deafening that we couldn't’t sleep. The blackness was full of hidden things. Things we could hear but would never see. We were blanketed in this unexplainable presence. I looked over to you and saw your face glowing by the light of our borrowed oil lamp. There was no need to say anything. Your face looked warm and kind and it was my home in this strange place. There was no time only miles and miles of darkness. Life just dissolved before us .You told me you loved me like you had a million times before but this time was different.

We took a boat ride that night. Turned off our lanterns and lied on our backs in a boat carved by strange hands. We silently sliced through the black water, under a glowing moon that was round and pale like our sleepy faces. That night changed us forever.