Listen to me. Don't listen to me.
Get uncomfortable with my comfort.
Get comfortable with my discomfort.
Here, my opinion.
Hear my opinion.
My opinion sucks,
but my mistakes?
My mistakes are a beauty above the rest.

I am a sloppily-built card tower.
When one card is plucked,
the entire tower topples upon itself.

I am a frayed knot.
Tying all of my problems together,
then later using my teeth to separate them.

I am a newspaper collection.
Strike a match to one remembrance,
then the whole library is on fire.

I am stumbling around the corner.
I am crying on the porch.
I am listening for God.
I am sleeping on the couch.
I am talking to myself.
I am screaming curses out.

I am justifying, mystifying, and lying to myself.
I am blaming, maiming, and taming myself.
I am blinding, binding, and finding myself.
I am alive.
And it hurts.

Shalom.

There is a hidden forest
within a hidden vale
hidden within the fog
with a hidden wall 
with hidden door 
with a hidden knob 
with hidden latch 
which I can't see 
with hidden eyes,
yet try to open 
with a hidden key
with hidden hands
bound securely.
That's where you've hidden Thee.






shalom.

high cooed

shalom repeated

nothing ever comes easy

tie your shoes and stand

i find the most (un)

expected things in the can

of garbage. my heart.

mr. awkward toupee,

i hope you believe it's real,

Yes. I mean your hair.

you have to write, right?

to acheive something written.

or else you lose it.

space. time. money. sex. love.

you can't have all. you still try.

how's that been working?

don't let yourself be.
throw on a disguise and hide.

be somebody else

bag of potatoes.
sitting on the kitchen self.
let them rot. Or not.