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  What makes you, you? The unbecoming The Journey to Greatness The unloved Finding Love The Unholy Finding God The Undoing The Unlucky The Creating Walking Away and Finding Peace. What makes you, you.
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I am the Sun

I am the sun.  I rise, strong I stand,  stronger  with a purpose to shine.  I am the sun.  I set subtly and with power leaving behind a day’s worth of pain. A day’s worth of joy. A day worth remembering for a lifetime.  I am the sun.   

Some Friend

It's all good and dandy when I'm smiling and being everybody's favorite friend.  Let me fall off and then everything and whatever becomes an "issue". I remember when I was being strong; strength was failing but I hung on to that rope.  The rope broke, I fell. I fell so deep, deeper than I've ever been.  It took a while and so much work to get out.  But,  Apparently being down isn't cool when and I couldn't be there to listen; when I wasn't smiling and pretend that everything was ok with me.  It's not cool when I shut down because I got were cold shoulders and abrupt responses when I needed a friend.  Apparently, It's not cool and I  become the villain because someone asked how I've been.  Someone who didn't judge my absence and was genuinely concerned but that wasn't the problem. The problem was the I wasn't there to hear your whining because I was in too much pain.  The pain you didn't see and pain you didn't care t

Walk signal

The blackened sky promises more than just rain.  The promise of complete destruction knocks on a frail, weathered door.  Open door Close door Open door Half way  Door falling of the hinges, fresh paint covering the mildew.  Strange hands gripping the handle, almost loosening the last rusting screw.  The blackened sky promises more than just rain.  Syncing with the troubled wind, secretly hoping for the rain. Still The unknown, blackened sky promises more than just rain.  Trust the wind, trust the promise of rain.  Trust.  Blue skies painted black with false hope and broken hearts.  Misguided, falling for the promise of rain.  Was it wrong to hope, for a little bit of rain? 

Silver Bullet

Very few knows how to a handle a troubled heart; they too have battle scars. The time in between the stale Cheetos and herbal tea must be precious.  It must yearn for something more than giving up.  It yearns for peace of mind. It yearns for less tears, less wanting what it cannot have. It wants to feel good about standing up for the sake of morals instead of giving into the desires of the flesh. It wants to look you in the eye and say go fuck yourself with such conviction.  Instead, clutching a pillow and waiting to be carried away into dreamland is the icing on the cupcake. The icing from the red velvet cupcake. It's already morning; I gotta be up in  three hours.  Life has to go on after stale Cheetos and herbal tea.


After the earthquake, I smile. I might fall a little or maybe a lot but I get up.  I get up because I realize that there is nothing down there for me to do. Down was not home; it was uncomfortable. Poco a poco with a spoon for a shovel and faith so big, Mount Everest trembles, I crawl out. Residue lingers but making the best of the moment is what counts. That's all that matters. When dry runs and inconvenient pit falls run amok.  The moment counts.  All the moments count. 


Close enough to touch. Close enough to taste. Close enough Just close enough Too much to take in all at once. Bits and pieces of a soul too big to digest in one sitting. Close enough  Wet the pallate  Satisfy a craving  Enrich a soul, breath love in, exhale love and butterflies.  Just close enough to smother with rich, rare, to divulge alone. Close enough.  Selfish tastings of a gourmet universal, exotic, glowing specimen.  Private rooms, sweet words, eager stares, longing hands, close enough. Just close enough. Take a portion, leave, stay, come close to leave a stain.  Bleeding hearts. Just close enough