You just have to live.

Being sober’s

as overrated

as being drunk—

nobody wins.

You just have to live.

The Devil to one is God to another.

The Devil to one

is God to another.

It’s a cycle continued

that is, until

we stop looking to the sky,

stop burying our trauma,

and look our neighbor

dead in the eye,

without retaliation or judgement

and listen, to one another’s heart

which beats to the same rhythm

as a newborn babe

that is, until

birth begins

its earthly decay.

Whatever you decide, do it without the need for validation—we are one.

Whatever you decide, do it without the need for validation.

To seek validity is but a farce. It’s like aiming to make a splash in a rain puddle.

A child learns early on whether they care to admit it or not, that their choice is theirs and theirs alone. Nobody really cares more than it takes them to realize, eventually with age, that nobody really cares.

Sure, a mother cares deeply, but only as far as it interrupts her well being.

A father can break his back many times, but only as many times as it serves his cause.

Progression doesn’t come from an audience. Progression comes from within.

Progression comes from love, awareness, and nurture.

And although social media tells a different story from reality, we seek it, crave it, we often need it, but do we really?

Perhaps the greatest lesson we can learn from posting our day to day lives, morality, and hardships is that we are all equally as alone as we are the same—myself included.

Not too long ago, there was a time, it seemed, the world was much larger than we could ever imagine.

Driving cross country felt then like an achievement whereas now—after doing it more than a dozen times—it feels more like a routine I’d rather not admit.

Mostly it’s this that scares me.

Desensitization. It’s this that makes me wonder.

What’s the point?

The point is to treat yourself with the same dignity you would a stranger—a child.

The point is to look beyond life’s blessings, with eyes wide shut, and understand that all will be regardless of whatever validation you seek.

We can learn this by simply looking at a flower bloom. We can understand this by accepting that although, it may seem, the flower dies, another will take its place, as equally and wholly as beautiful as its former.

So whatever you decide, decide knowing, you aren’t as separate as you feel—we are all one.

Long Island Cottage, 2012

Poetry

What is poetry, but

a language of the dead.

It’s an informal dance,

a shared cigarette.

Poetry is

but a one night stand.

It’s a wine ring left,

sheets, stained

between strangers.

Ryan and Jessica, 2011

Dying in her arms I’m happy

I see my reflection

through the tangles

from the window

of her eye, suppose

she’s figured out the angles

I’ve been playing,

oh but she’s the kind of femme fatale

worth saving, because lately

there’s a wall built higher than my own good

for, protection

oh but how it all comes crumbling down

the instant, she walks in

where dying in her arms I’m happy

Mural, St. Pete

I open my eyes knowing

I open my eyes knowing

everything I need

lies within

My twin flame in the dark

Now that I have found you

My fear of letting go

Like willows that surround you

My love blows to and fro

No longer does your sorrow

Need explanations, no

I long not to disarm you

I only wish to show

What lingers in those bright eyes

Your memories I’ll share

With cherry kissed tomorrows

My true love I am here

To brighten up your morning

You brighten up my heart

The broken wick you lit now knows

My twin flame in the dark

The man in me knows something gold can stay

It’s an early morning wake up(wake up)

Adjust your hair put on your makeup(makeup)

It’s just a temporary state but(state but)

Either way you’ve got to make up(make up)

For all the time that you pissed away

For every second mistake you made

For every little indiscretion

For all the time you failed to mention

I love you so much my stomach burns

I love you so much that I’m lost for words

I love you so much see my eyes are pure

So stick around and we can make this work

You formed this feeling in Long Island(I land)

On my back and watch the world spin(world spin)

Back and forth in all direction(directions)

They only form a brief connection(except when)

The one’s you love turn from gold to grey

Tell Johnny Frost said nothing gold can stay

I do my best to find another way

The way I work is slow but baby hey

I love you so much I get dizzy spells

I love you so much you’re my wishing well

I love you so much now I’m overwhelmed

I love you so much you’re my homeward bound

Your eyes are healing now I’m lost for words

So stick around let’s watch the season’s turn

I’m slow with change but baby I’ve got faith

This fire burns you are my great escape

The man you met knows there’s a better way

The man in me knows something gold can stay

May Morning

Sprinklers water garden lawn

Sirens in the distance

Seagulls spreading wing lift off

Mosquitos hungry witness

Eyelids close they’re curtain thin

My mother’s sleeping now

Sunshine pours and sea grass bends

Gently towards the light

walking the corner of my eye

If that’s not you

walking the corner of my eye

then who? I wonder,

who’s shadow unwinds?

Overhead like a compass,

creation of time. Time

and again, like time were a crime.

Wasted. Lost. Forgotten. Blind.

Memories fade, they never die.

So if that flutter of feather is you,

alright that’s fine. It’s much ado.

So when they ask you calmly why

won’t you share yourself with I?

I have and will, see I am I

unanswered we are now defined.