words – static confusion.

nature roars.

and in the morningbefore her risingthe sun resteda slow lingerbeyond the greywhere down belowwaves crashed againsta naked shorein a silent worldwhere hope gentlyrustled awaketo embracea new seasonthe blooming springwhere nature roarsand the whispersof fearare swept away.🌿These words came to me yesterday morning while out for my morning walk. The world before 8am doesn’t feel any…

i love you because.

i love you because you live with a grace that radiates kindness and a heart so resilient its cracks infiltrate your beautiful flaws the ones that failed you the ones that made you i love you because you see a world shining with good a vision so pure that you move mountains to help others…

you’re pretty much magic.

Reminder to self: you’re pretty much magic. I, like you reading this post, forget at times just how fiercely badass I am. Bipolar blurs the line for me often when I’m on the cusp of an emotional breakthrough. One moment I’m self-assured fabulous and the next I’m fretting about somewhere between calamity and chaos. I…

wander alone.

noise surrounds us. most of it static. infused confusion by the chaos of the mad beat hustle. but here in the conservation of nature i’m able to lay within my thoughts. space to contemplate. freedom to listen to a conversation with myself. to rant and ramble; ponder and philosophize. to speak a nonsensical tangent that…

the bedlam of your beauty.

i find myself frequently penning these words together lately. like most of my scribes the meaning unfolds after i’ve had a moment to digest the sounds of their syllables. so, i thought i would elaborate on this incognito phrase in more intimate detail. indulge me with your curiosity if you will dear reader. bed•lam, noun:…

with you…under white linen sheets.

with you. under white linen sheets. is where i want to be in bed. no longer alone. where we lay awake full in love free of heartbreak. wrapped in sunlight where we can live out our dreams in each other’s arms while kissing beneath the stars and chasing moon beams. we’ll smile from the happiness…

we …

we fall from grace. we save face. we resolve our faults. we discover unfound flaws. we heal even if we don’t feel. we fall while standing tall. we run despite never finding our stride. we cry in our lost efforts to try. we rise and shine in a gloomy dark. we smile through the pain….

my own conversation with warhol.

i like my alone time. serene solitude. quiet moments where i can manifest and ponder. however, sometimes in my restful respite the odd lad or lass pops in to offer his or her companionship. he’s an artist or she’s a muso. he’s a pop culture icon or she’s a rock legend. i seem to appreciate…

crazy heart.

i aspire to be a writer. i suppose i am a writer. i am committed to sharing stories; telling stories. literary vulnerability from my brain to your eyes. to read. to digest. to digress. it seems though that through my own reading — and research — i often come across a poet or a writer…