If there's one thing I know for sure it's that I love poetry and rock 'n roll.

My Poems
The Moleskine Journal
The Truth About Everything - A Collection of Narratives
The Paint Palette Collection

Do You Realize??

It always starts off with
“I love this song”
The party is hot
We are perspiring in the dark black heat
And when you yell to me
above the noise
“I love this song”
you will have initiated my downfall
I don’t know it yet
And you don’t know it yet
So my response is “me too”
And later on after the party
the “me too” will turn into
us making out by my red Chevy Malibu
in the West Cliff Drive parking lot

And it’ll start out like this:
your dark hair high cheekbones lanky arms rosy cheeks ample lips
and feverous book analogies
to Dubois’ double consciousness
will be hot
rising steam in the shower
in which we fuck in
For laughter
For atrocities
For good old Uncle Walt
with The Flaming Lips droning
from the stereo on top of the toilet tank
And we will find comfort
in our 2 A.M. helter-skelter
transcendental questions
on your parents’ rooftop
with the Santa Cruz stars in view
Find it in the early morning Saturdays
in which the light glows through
the velvet curtains like holy heaven is behind it
And the dust particles that move like waves in slow motion

And love will have a different meaning
It is now vibrato instead of a steady stream pitch
Lux pyramid
Alone you are starlight
but together we are deep twilight

My rule is to never kiss boys
with dirty fingernails
Your nails were clean-cut
so I thought maybe I’d be okay
But baby why’d you have to hurt me so bad?
Or was it the other way around?
I know I’ve never been good with time
Let’s be sure this is not the movies
This GoPro life with hazy underwater escapades
only lasts until the last beam of sun sinks behind
the reflected honey colored ocean
Like a mirror the palm trees use
to check their hair for a night out

So I’ll drape my flag proudly behind me
And you in your wetsuit will hold your surfboard
above your head as we walk off in opposite directions
Our footprints in the sand trailing different paths
Then washed away by the tide

I should’ve said
“I hate this song”

- Do You Realize??
14 Sep — 5 notes
I’ve accepted the fact that I am not a freak of nature. A supersonic genius with perfect scores and the ability to process information like a machine. I get that. I’m not a nobody or a somebody. I’m just a body floating around. Comparison will kill you. I get that. But when I say I want to be an English major because it releases my soul and makes life feel divine like rich wine, I get ridiculed. “You know, that’s like a step up from a liberal arts degree.” “You can’t do much with English.” “I’m going into software engineering. That’s where the big money’s at.” I start to second guess my heart’s decision and then the left side of my brain starts screaming at me. It’s screaming at me to get a degree that so-called really matters. A degree that will get me a job that makes me ample amounts of money. So I can drive a Mercedes Benz with Tom Fords covering my eyes and a Chanel bag sitting on top the center console. So I can blow bucks on fine dining and tip cabaret with hundred dollar bills and drink fancy wine. So I can fly all over the world and fall in love with geographical locations and probably exotic men with accents. But what happened to being happy? I would get by just fine with a surfboard and the sea. I would get by just fine with frequent coffee dates with T.S. Elliot. Doing what I love and doing what makes me money are on complete opposite spectrums. And I swear I’m smart. I can appreciate metaphors like nobody else. But sometimes I feel like a sad idiot in a world full of A-oriented students with memorized knowledge but zero experiences on how to live. I guess I’m lucky to be aware of life outside the four walls we sit in. To know there are magnitudes of beauty out there and that this small drop into the bucket of time is trivial to the core. But somehow it still gives me anxiety when I don’t get numbers and scientific theories. I’m still in the process of figuring things out. Figuring me out. Only time will tell where I belong.

9: Just A Body

The Truth About Everything - A Collection of Narratives

9 Sep — 3 notes