When it finally ceases to haunt you.


Some people are better at hiding the disasters, and some wear them like a story across their forehead. You would be surprised at how you will come to know the looks and the mental flinching of personalities when someone has went through any sort of trauma in relationships. Which in actuality, pretty much covers all of us in the functioning world. We all handle it differently on layers and levels, depending on how an individual is wired. I tend to be like a sponge and absorb things very fast, so much that they leave long-lasting fingerprints that never really shave away completely. I know some minds that don’t even shudder around anyone, ever. I wonder if people like that are more like monsters on the inside, somehow staving off the ability to show empathy about anything except for what is the “absolute now”. Some carry it more everyday and some slide out from underneath it all.

I have definitely had struggles with letting things go. I can, and have had unsettled emotions in the past for months and for even years. Love, hate and discord all play and string together more than anyone would think. There has always been this dance that they do. It’s a process, there is grieving and all that – we all know. It’s the cookie mix in the bowl that you cannot ever seem to get all out, but eventually you end up washing whats left away. It’s inevitable, it’s sad, and it feels like too much wasted time. But when it arrives, like an insect that lights on the back of your neck – it delivers the utter and most profound, loud impacted detachment on the human psyche that I know. The art of simply not caring anymore. When it finally ceases to haunt you, it unhooks from your conscious and then and only then are we able to close the chapters. And maybe this time you have to be the monster. Anger is the tool that can fan the flames and eventually snuff them out.

You have to fight in the end to reel back what they took, and use it to rebuild and reprogram things that were lost. It’s always a fight. You will struggle to regain it. And anyone that tells you differently, has not fought enough of those battles. Yet.

A: Dear snake, I ask why that you would hurt me?

S: I will never hurt you. I am always beside you. I offer everything comforting, and loving. I care unconditionally about being close to you always.

A: I don’t exactly feel safe with you. But I know that you care. I will be ok with that.

S: *bite *swallow *leave

A: Why did you bite me, and leave marks that will never go away? Why did you swallow and devour the things that I thought were sacred within our minds? Why did you hide so far away when I needed you the most?

S: I’m a snake.

Time seamlessly stops.


I don’t even rally in the thoughts of storms and flailing nights too much as I have done in the past. I get closer to most things by launching myself through them rather than around or over them. I’d rather feel the intensity of the falling, knowing that the catch is worth ten fold the ringing of the landing.

The heat and flicker on the lips that causes that flutter, it’s very hard to walk away from every time. It’s rush, roars loud as water forcefully does up against a clouded pane. It pins me and pushes me, and I like that. People need that.

Distance is just a digit. I can sit across from someone and fail to notice an insect on their face but then finely feel the flutters of a heart 200 miles away. Intimacy is the fuel that continually revs that connection.


“I wanted to freeze time. I wanted to savor that moment, to live in that moment for a week. But I couldn’t stop it, only slow it. And before I knew it, she was gone. After the door closed I felt like the last person on Earth.” – Cashback, 2006


Phobos // Deimos

Forever June 2016

Note 1024
There is a curve along your waist and hip that is probably one of my favorite places to rest my palm. It’s cool and smooth and something I always think about when I wake up.

Note 1036
The temperature of rain, the surprise when it hits your face. Streaming across ringlets of hair. Wind wrapping around necks and shoulders, I like that smell it leaves. I like the cold and uncomfortable, and being able to find things warm. I miss you. Maybe I say that too much but It’s ok.

Note 1029
It’s fast. The time between holding on to things as tight as I can, and then waking up to get bagels. The smell of coffee, and clouded jabber in the background and the crinkling of pastry papers. Like wood burning. Familiar but not familiar. I stumbled in my head, I grabbed on to your hand and looked down at worn denim jeans. The air that stops right in the center of a pinhole camera lens photo – that’s the part that matters and that’s where I want to be.

2017 I will let you whisper horrible things, but I’m getting better at wiring those things to street lights as I drive past.


“Your problem is that you’re not happy being sad. But that’s what love is, Cosmo. Happy sad.” – Raphina, Sing Street

Drowning in blue, the colors I can’t see.


Note 787
The season rolled in over me, kind of caught me by surprise. I like that at least right now there is a feeling of shedding skin. I don’t look at the haze that was in the foreground. It’s shallow. It’s unbecoming. I’ll let that disaster find its way somewhere else.

Note 790
I will never understand the hearts that can’t portray easy math. Go fast and go fucking far. If spray painting it across your forehead will not aid you in anything than I guess everything really is lost. It is the falling over and over again, even myself finding and attempting to retell myself lines of the written past. Wanting to figure out where I leaped when I should have walked, swam where I should have dove, broke when I should have been strong.

Note 799
There comes a dawn when you will have to find the path that is distant from it all, and you will have to unravel things that once kept you driven inside of your salted sanity. The moments that were once warm, they just became too brittle. You would think it comes easier after time, and sometimes it does. Eventually you see it just kind of slips through the parts that you sew up.

Note 804
This month took me to an island. Like rain hitting the pane. A drop of strawberry jam that has fallen into a tall glass of milk. It’s a soft rope, that binds but is very delicately placed and tied. I enjoy this comfort, I enjoy being able to feel everything shower over. I drown in the deep blue where it’s quiet and safe. As an artist I anxiously find adventure pouring methodically into this new chapter. It’s telling and penetrating. The ferocity in it all pulls like an undertow, unyielding to the fierce and only allowing moments to breathe. I take all of those moments in as I can.


Lamp Lock and Star.


It feels good to miss you for the best reasons. I tend to analyze the output and the direction of feelings that you can’t control. Some hugely obtuse and even some finite. I enjoy broadcasting strong emotions in bursts to watch them land. I want to see them soar off over the horizon and wait for the others to bounce off that narrow eye. I like to long for the good things. I like those missing connections that I know I will soon find comfort in again. It creates a warm hearth that can be constantly kindled into a rare, penetrating heat. They are building stones that you should definitely procure, and make sure they have their places – so that when the time comes, they are readily able to find their momentum that they so deserve.

I don’t like thinking about certain ‘missings’ as the result of loneliness. It’s not so real. They rapidly spiral into a series of hoodwinked thoughts. They turn what you ‘thought’ you needed into what bleeds a dark obsession of what you ‘thought’ you had. You are not missing what was there, you are merely missing what you believed you wanted. It’s like how concrete turns to sand. Once that contained substance, now no longer has its strength. My chest doesnt crave the enduring of that, what would become a feeding will soon fell a drowning.

So I breathe in the swells, as they come. I hold them in and allow them to imprint and to flourish. These are the things you want to remember. Because as that tide ebbs and flows, back and forth, you will find yourself falling into that shallow well. A well that towers prying overhead. You may be able to breathe for now, but you know the tide soon arrives. The hearth that you have been tending, all of those words that you stapled to your skin, you will need every ember of that to keep you above. You will need every subtle emotion to lead you to that next rung.

It binds and burns at the same time. It lifts and leads on to places you feel you have never been. It’s desire and an ending all enfolded into one.  It’s what turns the familiar into the unfamiliar.


“I look at the stars, in all their beauty and grace, and I still like you more.” – Jakob Dakota Sauer

“What I admire most about you – the bloodiness of your heart” – Margaret Atwood

Touch this angel in a clutch of snakes.


“When man is happy, the meaning of life and other eternal themes rarely interest him. These questions should be asked at the end of one’s life.” – Andrei Tarkovsky, Solaris 1962 

“I wish I would’ve screamed fuck you more often instead of being considerate of your feelings while you failed to give a damn about mine. So…fuck you, better late than never.” -Should Haves, R.H. Sin