In reality: reality, to me, is better than all my dreams.

she said.

“When ever is there time to stare at the sky,” she said. I could see the goosebumps forming on her skin as she said it. I could see the hair on her forearms rise. From her facial expression to the wrinkles in her smile, something in her changed when she said that sentence. As if in that moment she was the sentence itself.

Time cannot be found. It is only lost.

Where possible, I prefer truth over fiction.


They’re stacked atop another. They’re aligned from end to end. They’re left haphazardly on the floor with other messes. They seem bruised and bent, but they’ve remained unread. Books that I’ve amassed from here and there over time but haven’t quite bothered with yet. Though the intention was once there.

Now they lie around as receipts for my intentions. An IOU of sorts. I owe them my time. Yet I amass these receipts as if I would live forever. I keep making hundreds of promises to myself that physically collect as I ignore them. I will not live forever. I will leave these owed intentions behind.

That thought scares me.

When we say “rest in peace,” we’re not speaking to the dead. We’re speaking to ourselves.


My nephew runs into my room, climbs unto my bed and rests his head on my shoulder.

“We are just breathing and doing nothing,” he says.


that awkward moment when.
that awkward moment when.

that awkward moment now.
that awkward moment then.

that awkward moment here.
that awkward moment there.

that awkward moment how.
that awkward moment where.

that awkward moment when.
that awkward moment when.

that moment.
so awkward.

nothing much.

nothing happened
because we let our days
overtake our dreams.

and we found
ourselves sleeping as the
world passed us by.

I don’t like how this blog has become a place for just one-liners and bad poetry.

I do not forgive and I do not forget. Actually, that’s not true. Sometimes I do forgive, but then I end up forgetting that I’ve forgiven.

Whenever people say, “it doesn’t matter.” I say, “it matters to me.” And now it matters.

If not for my mind I would be out of my mind.

this summer.

we were told it wouldn’t
be cold this time of the
year. how long does the
weather last with renewed
times and recasted weather

i have no time for what
forecasts say. the weather
is all around me. but it’s
hard to see what it would be,
the speeds of days confound
my thought processes.

if i could just rinse and
condense then think and
extend my thoughts today,
would i see tomorrow
better? maybe. maybe not.
but not tomorrow’s weather.

i really should have
read my forecast this
summer. it fit right into
a tweet. it said: your
summer this summer, even
with the heat, will
be quite bittersweet.

oh, but i insist.

i look at my hands
back and forth,
and again,
to bear witness
to my own existence.

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