The best poem I've ever written.

Reminding me the sun will always rise
Is not calming
Maybe I should start
Appreciating the sun

The amount of possibilities
Is staggering
I prefer less freedom
Until it’s taken away

I have sex
While peering
Now called making love
Because I've slowed down

Are bitter and disappointing
I want to be distracted and diverted
And not bothered by it

Freedom doesn’t start
It starts now


Sprinkling and tiny dots on my face plane.
The night sky on my empty hair spaces.
The sound boiling in my deep stomach.
A deep chest flexing.
I push it --- it pushes I. We push.


Thank You.

I’m ridiculously happy in my life. It’s all about contagious people. It’s all about passion. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

I utterly adore your dark brown eyes, your sexy skin, and thick hair. I see life bringing you so much simple enjoyment. Your energy amplifies mine. I feel on top of everything. Knowing you exist excites me.

This seems unreal. Thank you.



I’m slapping my hands hard, hard, tremendously hard, against the floor. I’m forcing the beat through my hands and into the floor. When you feel alive, you do strange things.

I’ve kissed my reflection in the mirror. Does this make me narcissistic? Yes. Yes I suppose it does.

I fill my mouth, throat, and cheeks with water as full as possible. It hurts very much to swallow, but I do it again anyway.

I dream about falling off sky scrappers. Terrifying. I don’t know if I can bungee jump.

That person has magic inside them. They feel good about themself. They are free. They have found something many have not.

I can pick a favorite color of the day. A permanent favorite color is too much commitment. Why not enjoy colors as they come?

I don’t feel sad when my dog runs away. She’s freer. She always returns, exhausted and happy. I don’t want to control her life.

Money controls me too much.

I will not be embarrassed for my actions and thoughts. This is a work in progress.

Sex is good, love is better, beauty is everywhere, time is precious, I want a hug.