A new language

how am i supposed to write words down
when words no longer feel real
when everything the heart says
feels like a trickery
of those apathetic words

breathing is my new language
one that has always been

the translation, the pitch
the heave, the thrill
the profoundness.

it has it all.

moans like a saxophone
joyful like trumpets
rhymes, like jazz

i play the tune
across your body
each spot I touch
hits a new note

creating new vocabulary.

It’s 3 in the morning

It’s 2 AM

his tired eyes are
wide awake
from realizing
a dream

he slows down
his breathing,

his fingers
doing their own
type furiously
on the keypad.

the dreams.
the plan.
the possibilities.
the outcomes.
every tiny explanation
his soul provided

and was made up of.


It’s 3 AM

his tired eyes
are dead
but his dreams
now have
a structure of words.

forever alive
in his fingertips.

Closer and closer

Every painting you paint gets you closer. Every talk you give gets you closer. Every email you send gets you closer. Every line of code you write gets you closer. Every date you go on gets you closer.

Close to what?

Closer to the life you want to live.

To the life you have to live.

To the life you deserve to live.