the rareness of a genuine smile – RIP Steve Hartman

the rareness of a genuine smile – RIP Steve Hartman

i could always count on this smile- never once let me down. Hey Steve,   I have been waiting for your call this week, we were going to see each other for the first time in a year.  We have … Continue reading

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i mastered the science of making all the worst decisions

i have mastered the science of making all the worst decisions and continuously watched everything invaluable dart beneath the nearest exit sign. but, if i thought of these decisions as regrets, i’d be incinerating everything of worth. so in my dumpster, buried within every worst decision, rests the rarest and most compelling treasure; the freedom to evolve and prosper.

 

[discovering peace in letting go]

the foreverness of pavement

i saw a snail marching across the driest pavement

staring was all i could help but do

lost, i became, in the grace with which it left behind

a trail of iridescence

 

my presence neither feared nor hurried his march

for he knew only, not the end of the pavement

 

 

comfort, he finds in death; none but a machine finds pleasure in the foreverness of pavement.

we call her beautiful.

i once fashioned this innocent game of connect the dots- a silly picture of my life and the way it would be. somehow, plans turned forgotten and every unplan decided to show up and make home within my life. the only flaw within my portrait stemmed from a simple misunderstanding and common misuse of one word followed by another, my life. attaching life to mine was something i never considered or questioned, but in the hardest of ways i have learned life is everything but something to call my own. we cannot plan our births and through unexplainable experience, the death i planned or suddenly decided on did not occur. accepting the idea surrounding my lack of control is still a struggle.

this is hard

sobering

and quite frankly, this fucking sucks.

but every breath we are undeservingly given will be one i try not to take for granted.

in the most beautiful of all ways, i almost missed the simple glory of her wings. somewhere, i was given breath enough to finally see. for this, nothing could replace my thankfulness.

the black velvet bow of time

i found within myself the crevices and reality

feeding swollen veins with unrequited heartache,

embracing the comfort held beneath the dull photographs [i call home]

ticking hands pounded violently between my saddened ears

branding each page of recollection with staggered syllables

tugging and prodding at the deception masked within your name

 

the memories became tangible and frail, i stood at a distance

visiting every instance of unpromise’s rapturous kiss

and watched as his hands united the black velvet bow

the crevices swallowed the loss of heartache’s scars

and plucked the crumbs of a poisoned lover’s foolish mess

 

but,

i cannot bask beneath the rays of instances and photographs

for shadows mask the quiet wings of crevices and letting go

instead, i nestle in the arms of loneliness

finding forever in a day

 

“Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer’s loneliness, but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day.” -Ernest Hemingway

passion – nowhere but here

love.

love.

Describing the absolute rapture, claiming all sense of reality, is absurd and unattainable – when i’m lost within the nothingness of passion, I close my eyes and melt into the hands of music.  There is nowhere else i’d rather be.

“One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain”

-Bob Marley

ignorance blurs flawless clarity

she counts the petals,

gently absorbing the profound intensity,

unraveling labyrinths coiled within each subtle shade of magenta,

so vibrant,

she becomes tipsy from innocent grandeur

 

how youth can stain a life,

once considered irreplaceable

 

is ignorance so blurring,

should she merely seek for eternity

the only piece ever to be perceived with flawless clarity

 

soft ripples admire a simple girl

as her reflection gingerly fades

into the cosmos vast complexity

 

still,

is it not only as perplexing as she mends it to be

 

[simplicity is best served cold]