Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

“I can feel the weight of these memories, so large that I can’t carry anything new into my tomorrows. At some point I have to make a choice, but I’m afraid that, even after all these years, I’m still going to choose anybody but me…”

Falling down takes time, and has layers, and can even appear beautiful. It’s sort of like a sunset on the beach in late September. It’s not truly autumn, so every evening is ushered in on the tail-end of a dying summer breeze. The light from the Sun plays games with that not so warm air, flickering more, almost dancing, as it descends onto the horizon. The space between the Sun and the Earth, the Earth and the sky, the skyline and the edge of our planet, stretched out across the deepest of blues reflected in the open Sea… For a brief moment, you can close one eye, and these vast distances and heavenly bodies all fit in the space between your thumb and index finger. 

But the moment is only that, a moment.

The Sun keeps on dancing as it slips over the edge of the world. The breeze keeps on twirling, the oceans are swirling, but it’s all beginning to fade into the background as the Moon and the stars take their positions. The transition is peaceful, poetic even, and I find so much comfort in this daily sight. The world ends every day without a fuss. It takes time, but it’s never in a rush. The Sun goes down as its own pace, and it manages to stay beautiful every step of the way. So maybe falling down isn’t such a bad thing after all, so long as we remember that falling down always comes with the opportunity to rise again. 

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

I just wanted our summer to last forever. I would have given you anything, done absolutely anything, if only you would have promised me you’d stay…

You are a sunburn; you came with happy times spent in sunny days, and you left me with the coming of autumn and the bright orange leaves. So were you ever really there? Will I have any physical reminders of your love on my person? I once heard that every cell in our entire body is destroyed and replaced every seven years. So in a short seven years I will have a body that you will have never touched… and that thought is both beautiful and the saddest fucking thing I have ever heard.

Posted in Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“You kissed me first, so of course this is all your fault. You didn’t have to kiss me… You didn’t have to make me fall in love…”

Your lips bewitched me.

A glossy coat of distilled resin,

Edges tinged by the Sun,

And so my heart lingers

On a shaking yellow dream, 

The same shade 

As dandelion wine.

Your kiss took root,

Sinking into my veins,

A poison, like acid rain,

And it burns, burns, burns,

Until nothing remains

Save for the idling taste

Of ashes on my tongue.

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics

Years may pass, but the Sun hasn’t changed; It’s the same every May, and so is the pain.

Speak to me, on bended knee!

“O sweet dreams, my dreary queen!”

Sail away on those ships of yours

Past the end, over the floors

Of a raging Ocean, with waves as tall

As my clouds, the love that won’t fall…

~My words on paper mean nothing at all, for in a moment of rage it can all be lost, tossed and torn, gone without a moment’s notice. I would prefer to write my words in the forever sky; my moments saved in a world solely for the heavens…~

Scream at me, the words you’ll never need,

Write them in the sky, so far from your seas.

The ships that you sail lack the wings

To carry you away with all of your things.

“My clouds are mine, the heavens untouched!”

So this love is mine; a pallet waiting on your brush…

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“It feels like I’m thinning out my soul, turning once sturdy cider bark into bargain bin brown paper bags.”

You love me.

But your love,

It’s the same love

As the January Sun;

An abbreviated afternoon

Punctured with pockets

Of cumulonimbus skies.

Your kisses breed frostbite,

Coating every syllable

In a gelid timber.


But I found something,

Even if you are

Just passing through.

And it was enough

For me to latch onto,

Even if all I have ever held

Was merely a reflection;

I’ll reject reality

To keep living

In your light.

I exist to you

Only as dense air;

Slowing your time,

But you can’t, won’t stop.

All that remains

Are your refracted rays,

And the scatterings of

A cranberry glass heart.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“So although I might like it for one afternoon, I don’t want to live on the Moon…”

My lover, the crescent moon,

A lunar light who wanes

As my time passes,

But never fully fades.

I’ve carved my soul

To match your curves;

The sight of which

Heralds me to your evening.

Waiting through midnight

For a shift in the nebula,

I seek neither the secrets

Of the shaded sky,

Nor the calming whisper

Of a trillion stars;

I am fixated solely on your luster.

Perhaps the truth is that

I am more water than man,

As you can pull me

Away from my shores,

Knowing I’ll always rush back

When you call.

Ah, my crescent moon,

The loveliest of thieves,

Snaring your shine from the Sun,

And fashioning a heart

From this foolish man

Made from the Sea.

I am yours.

By my very nature

I can never deny you,

Not a single drop.

My crescent Moon,

There will never come to pass

A moment in this life

Where I could ever

Tell you no.

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“You accepted my love so easily, but in the end, when it mattered most, I was a burden, so you couldn’t be bothered with me.”

Could anybody please explain to me where it was I fucked up? I’ve burned through every memory, but it wasn’t enough to smoke out the inciting incident. I went from a warm soul to a body consumed by wildfire, and I can’t be sure why I set myself on fire to begin with. Everything was perfect, right?

We had each other.

We had love.

What else could I give you?

Why wasn’t I good enough?

You’re gone, but every time the truth comes to the front of my mind, I shove it down, down, all the way down, right through the ground beneath me. When I started, the truth barely reached the back of my throat. 6 years later, and there isn’t an ounce of me that doesn’t hide the truth. Every footstep creates an echo of an echo, so it’s impossible to tell where I started from, and I’ll never reach the end…