to know is to…


“to know is to possess, and any fact is possessed by everyone who knows it, whereas those who feel the truth are possessed, not possessors.”

-e.e. cummings

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you’re stepping on the ground.


every day i come home
and find myself
trying to stare through
those black + white walls
hoping to rent some colors
and moving thoughts
however mindless
they might seem
it’s better than
standing together
with no wishes or dreams

and then your face
slowly walks over
into my eyes
their lies fade away
into the colored canvas
of a dusky sky

but soon as a blink
i breathe in
and your eyes are gone
leaving my smile
halfway along
the way
where wishes and dreams
stay

and i see a cracked
faint voice over my ears
lingering around
“hey, you need to
keep walking
you’re stepping on the ground.”

same boy you’ve always known


I know you’re out there
and I want you to think
good of me,
but in recent years
time hasn’t been
what it promised to be,
you taught me all
about the good and the bad
when you yourself weren’t sure,
and despite all evidence
to the contrary
my life isn’t as pure

and now I’ve left
your ways, and grown
into something, of my own
I know how you feel
but I’m not the same
boy, you’ve always known.

I know you’re out there
and maybe even
wondering what went wrong,
although it might be true
but we are right
where, we actually belong,
the times we spent
doodling our lives
on the dried canvas of dead leaves,
love me or not
but it wasn’t something
that was meant to be
and now I’ve left
your side, and grown
into something of my own,
you might feel betrayed
but i’m not the same
friend, you’ve always known.

black and white sketches.


i drew some
black and white sketches
last night

sketches of coffee cups
and steamy words
with no sugar
and cream.

sketches of bearded moon
hanging with
falling fireflies
and coughing out toxic breaths.

sketches of smoke
and spirits
masking the true sound
of art.

sketches of a lady in
red, walking away
in the rain
under her cover

walking away
from the black and white
sounds, of despair
and pain
of broken heart

isn’t being alone together
better than
being apart?

he’s leaving home


saturday morning
at 5 AM
he leaves his clothes
across the hallway
silently closing the door behind
he picks up the keys
and now he’s free.

goodbyes were
just some words on a note
that he hoped would say more
and as his friend
tries to recollect her clothes
from last night
she picks up the note
and clutches her handkerchief
“love is an adventure
when adventure is love”, it said
“i do love you but
if i don’t live now, i’d rather be dead.”

floored.


it wasn’t the first time

i got lost in her hair
but the wind paused
and the sky looked over
this time
looked over me to see
if i was doing fine
and i told him
i didn’t even see him
walking through the door
i never felt him
putting his foot down
on my carpeted floor
and no it’s not that
i don’t love him as much
as i did before
it’s just that my
existence was clouded by
her hair and i couldn’t help
but want more.