Envoy of the water spirits


, , , , , , ,

Unnamed refractions untold
Reflected light of muted gold
Humility shining
Hiding in the expanse
Glitter from the gods
The reaching of a hand

A current running
Imaginary lightning
Blessed be the night
Where the quiet is quiet
Kept honored by its elegance

Liquid dance
Hands held


Let me go, I need to run free


, , , ,

I build up all this momentum inside myself to talk to people and see the good in them I try my best, but after it runs out I’m just left with the feeling of my face being sore from forcing it into a smile

Oh wont you stay for a while talk and joke, reference the weather and everything that doesnt mean anything to you

If I’m really so special why does everybody leave?

I always have this escape route inside me where I’m able to get out of my head and be the optimistic one still but its hanging by a thread and I dont know what to do so I’m asking you I’m asking you I’m looking for you

I’m not an actor and this isnt a story this is just what it looks like when you all ignore me

I feel like I’m withering and my choices are to get out or die

I might just be inventing something unsolvable

The horizon always extending

Does art only come from suffering?

Why do I even want to live forever?

Maybe it’s because I dont think this all sucks

Maybe I just need the time to take it all in because I’m not just one type

I just wanna go back to age 18, I’m not ready to be here

But it is what it is? I like to say it is what I make it but so much seems beyond my reach. I’m just hoping theres some way I can learn to feel endless but not be endlessly searching

It’s like I know this is not the answer

I’m not trying to set the lights low

Like this ink

All the colors absorbed against all the colors reflected

I’m not losing because this isnt a war

I know the truth

Just this seeming contraddiction is fascinating

I’m mesmerized by each fleeting feeling


Even if I know where enlightenment is

Even if it hurts

Maybe sometimes symbolism becomes too real

Like waking was being born and bed was like death

Yet I wake another day and say I am immortal

Maybe I need this


, , ,

When I’m awake

No, not just conscious

Truly energized

I feel no impulse to shut down until I have truly and fully depleted all my reserves

So I run myself until I stall out

Every single night

Is it really so insane?

Why am I the insane one just because I don’t do what almost every single other human being does?

Its like I cannot rest until I feel like I am defeated

But then I cant rest because I refuse to lose

I know this all sounds ridiculous

It sounds like I am making a false equivalence of sleep to loss

But maybe I’m just wired for a different life

Maybe I’m made of the stuff that is required to run towards danger

To face the dark

To feel senses heightened by fear

By love

Maybe I strip off this armor to make myself lighter to run farther and to get closer to the flames and sharp pointy objects

Maybe it’s not about knowing for sure

Maybe it’s about being unsure and being okay with it

Seeing it as an option instead

Walking without thinking about it


, , , ,

I used to feel each impact and stride

Coasting along through my memory it was a visceral experience

I would sift through volumes of antiques

Dust off the shelves as I went

I would see instant replays

Go over any slips

Edit and mend the film

Now it feels like I appear instantly wherever I am going

Like I held onto those short term to try to hold tight to the moment as it slipped away

Now it’s like instead of being in an ocean

I am the ocean

I dont need to struggle to hold onto something inevitable

I’ve become the inevitability but also I reinvent what the outcome is whenever I decide

I’m liquid because I wash over everything

I find all the spaces nobody realizes are there

Trying to touch them, hold them all at once, make them one



, , ,

These cobwebs keep gathering

Dust reappearing

Like a magic you didnt ask for

I’m full of good ideas

I know I’m loved

But maybe I am broken

Or maybe we all our in some ways

Or maybe that’s what I tell myself to feel better

Broken must exist if being functional exists right?

I’m feeling like a hypocrite

But sometimes the line space is just poetrys way of syncapating

I might just need to relate, to not feel alone

Such a universal yet ultimately personal state of being

Or maybe we need to break to stay flexible

Maybe the only way to build something new is to tear it all down and start over

Quench me


, , , , ,

I’m starting to feel damaged, but maybe we all are. It all feels so monotonous, but I am trying really hard to keep gazing towards those stars and also to look away and see what’s right in front of me and hear the words you have to say. It’s like the difference between reading an ebook or holding an actual copy. It’s like this distance is artificial until it actually isn’t. I’m counting down the days and I dont want to count down the days. These seconds are so reckless as the move on and on endless. Imaginary house with imaginary big windows with imaginary balcony and imaginary trees. You are somewhere. I bleed.

Am I so wrong?


, , ,

Here I open the drapes after sitting inside all day

Bare witness this missive its sipping its depictions of mountains of formalities it eschews and the words I choose and these issues brought carefully to light like opening your eyes when suddenly its bright

And the pain was instant and made you sure you were really awake but you didnt sleep enough again you dont remember the last time you ate

This story might be told a thousand times a million ways but it wont be exactly what I’m trying to say except once maybe once I hope these words escape before I choke and hold the note long enough to escape the orbit of the alien world in outer space

I know exactly what to do I know exactly what to say I know the timing the method the rhyme the motive the way and it stings because it feels like I’m standing on the top of a tower with room for one but I keep reaching my hand down and the only real choice I have is to be myself but what’s so wrong with trying to help somebody else?

As I feel the constant assault of signals and thoughts those things you bought those reasons I rhyme to help keep time to attach this verse it isnt rehearsed and we wont reverse we just keep steady the hand keep making it work

Each thing you do be it overt or small shares the common distinction of saying it all and the funny thing you might not realize is I’m here for it all seeing the ends seeing the starts trying to disrupt things speaking from the heart

It’s out exposed and it still flows the blood and it reacts to those shows

Yet still despite any of it I still need to see your face to hold your hand

Its agonizing yet I always survive I’m not sure what I am

Ode to Neil Hilborns book, or my copy specifically


, , , , , , , ,

Former tree parts
You were reborn
Tattooed with words
Symbols representing sounds
Assembled to gather meaning
You became rectangular and ordered
Dyed after you died
Imbued with heartfelt notes
Saturated to mirror like water in a lake
With all the subjectivity of the sunlight gleaming
Again you made a journey
Each tether of will manifesting into another stream
You were left nearly back where you came from
Only now sunlight only fades you
Water only warps you
But I still love you