Why do I write? What am I trying to accomplish? Maybe it my constant search for self that drives me in my writing. Or maybe it's my sense of wonder In a world that I am just starting to scratch…


I feel like I am about to explode.  Curling my fingers, I suffocate the air in between them and my palm as I make a fist.  I want to break something, shatter it into nothing.   Twisting my body I load…

He Stands Alone

He stands alone with his microphone
doust in cologne hair over blown
standing here to atone so on and on he goes
About how life was then how good he'd been
before life was thin before came the men


We fall we spin we twirl we dance  As if we strive to fake romance We stumble and shake across this floor As love walks gently out the door

An Old Blog Post

I went digging the other day and found the first blog I every started.
This was the only post I ever published in it.
I am still asking these questions. I wrote this when I was 16.

"I'll begin this…

No title

Deep beneath the pale white of my skin
Lies a dormant man with soft out stretched hands
Under this optimistic demeanor  Lies a scared and broken heart  To know the world  To breathe the air of happiness Pain is the…



Something I believe that everyone, at some point or another, has taken for granted, lost, fallen into, wish we had, pushed away, run from or run to.
But if you're lucky you've felt all of those and more.

My Day Began And Ended With You

My day began

I would watch the morning light reflect off your skin
As I gently kissed your neck to wake you.
And when your eyes would open to see the new day
I would kiss your lips softly so…

Cleansing Rain

Its going to rain
What a beautifully metaphoric way to close this chapter
Its waters will wash away these broken pieces,
Clean my slate and hidden beneath there drops will be my tears.

I watch as the cumulonimbus clouds roll…

Are We Good?

Are we good? you ask
as if I can give you a straight no or yes
as if I can think straight when you're in that dress

Are we good? well then answer me this
when is the line crossed…


Upon weary feet I stand while the pulse of the Latin band plays on. I feel the beat move over my skin and seep into my veins making my legs move To the groove that the drums make. Giving into…

Wooden wings

with painted eyes
i see these airbrushed skies
i watch you fly away
in to them

with your wooden wings
that weigh so heavily
on your hopes and dreams
that you seek

why don't you cut them off
and build…