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]

fight, i wish there was

i always thought happiness was unreachable, so deep into the cosmos i would never be able to catch a glimpse of it, but through circumstances that appeared to lead to but one outcome – heartache – i have instead found the unthinkable; happiness.

if you do not believe in happiness, how could I ever bring you joy

if you cannot bear the thought of loving yourself, how could you expect to find the love for loving me

if you will not sacrifice your lonely heart, why then, should i place mine within your hands

if you are unwilling to fight the good fight, I’m sorry love, you’ll never win

[how can a lonely boy ever expect to please a willing woman]

healing, is my heart, for part of it is with you.

although i could convince myself that backwards is somewhere i’d never go, one kiss could bring me to my knees.

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

Freedom found within a crowded room.

Freedom.

my lil sis

And the greatest of all fears stems from the battle we wage upon ourselves.  Exposing oneself to complete vulnerability allows us to examine the naked truths and mold vain deceptions into what defines us – allowing us to see the exquisite beauty found beneath every imperfection.  Conquering one’s self mirrors impossibility and stands as the most cunning fabrication, a lie which leads to the greatest of all torments: The prison we’ve created beneath our flesh.

All false judgment and negativity leave no stain on the soul of freedoms victories.

For a man to conquer himself is the first and nobelist of all victories.” -Plato