Not a diamond in the ruff

Just another brick in the wall

A needle in a haystack

Overlooked and unfound

Not born to stand out but made to fit in

All in white, we move in accord

Sleep in tandem, eat as one, work in unison

Our very own Anthem, we tread forth

Mason houses line the exemplary streets

Nothing out of place the whole eye can see

No different than those vermillion residences

We swallow our independent inclinations

Not a diamond in the ruff

Just another brick in the wall


The Sand & the Dune

You are the fork and I am the spoon

I am the caterpillar, you’re the cocoon

You are the lyrics and I am the tune

I am the sand and you are the dune

You are the sun and I am the moon

I am the land and you’re the monsoon

You are the needle and I’m the balloon;

I am the air and now I’m renewed

I’ve made friends with the dark

I don’t need to resist or shy away

But I no longer feel the pull

The heaviness of the shadows

Whether they be in my mind

Or in the corners of a night-filled room

The chains have disintegrated 

Into the smallest pile of nothingness

Powerless are the demons who hunt

Waging war with the light in my soul

It is mine. And it will be bright.

I like to listen to sad songs

They remind me of where I’ve been

And where I’ll probably go again

But just as the song always ends

So will the despondence

Evolution of Five Memorial Day Weekends


Three familiar faces gather, plus a less familiar one

Six months away for school but back to stay

Four food orders eaten, one long game to play

It started in the booths and ended in the bed

Of a truck that despite some rust was painted red

The wind of the end of May sleepily passing

As midnight rolled by around them without notice

Sitting diagonally, not exchanging many words

Two sets of eyes chanced various meetings

Quickly locking, noting, fleeting, no dare of believing

Neither were aware of what lied ahead; so instead 

They sat, cards in hand, secrets in head, in the truck bed


They sat, hearts in hand, pieces scraping skin, in the sedan

The journey behind them had been blustery but beautiful

While the stretch ahead would be choppy as ever

The ship they had built, filled with endearment and hope,

Propelled by mutual encouragement, their kind of “perfect”

Held an irreparable tear they failingly tried to patch up

Like swimming in quicksand, the tear stood its ground

A distressing week lead up to the inevitable truth:

it was time to jump ship, swim to the shore of friendship


Gathered again around a table were the faces of four

Ever familiar by now, each with the other closer than before

The two sets of eyes still glanced at one another

Less equally, frequently, and with a new sense of meeting

At the shore of friendship they’d managed to remain

Made it out of the ocean though only one unscathed

The other was a different story, still wandering out to the buoy

Lost in what once was, longing for that ship to roam the sea

For the hull to be renewed, sails pulled up high

Needing to look up and see the other missing set of eyes


The other looked up, across, then all around

But the missing set of eyes was nowhere to be found

The other slowly realized the road in front was as clear

As the material that made up the body of the hourglass

That held the numbered grains of love that had passed

The missing set of eyes was gone and would not return

No rhyme or reason stated; cut off all communication

Here today gone tomorrow, so the idiom fairly stated

“If you love them, let them go” is easier said than done

Yet a life without the other set of eyes had just begun


In a four-door of a different color, the other sat

Mind anew, goals in view, and heart in tact

Venturing home to another threshold and bed

A life without the other set of eyes well in motion

And though at times, the mind would descend

Into the rearview mirror of the past

Seeing the missing set of eyes, the face 

That held such a big place in the other’s heart

But in this time apart, it had become apparent

Grateful for the increased strength, love, and lessons

It was without question now a lucid discovery

The other had been too incoherent to see

How different the two sets of eyes would grow to be

Anatomy of Writing

These letters are dancing across the page,

and as you read them

I wonder if you’re taking them in

Breathing them into your lungs

digesting them into your bloodstream

or if they’ll simply disappear as you exhale

They were formed in the innermost part of my core

Rose from the dust of my bones

and slithered through my veins

Where my blood ebbs and flows, to and fro

Heart to brain, head to toe

Pen was lifted as words were shifted

The hemispheres of my thinking organ

Carefully crafting the right words

To see you. To feel you. To reach you.


Are a walking















living form of art.

And don’t you ever forget it.


I long to paint the sky. For colors to blend and bleed and slip around the sunset. To wash over the warmth of the wind as it weaves in waves of wonder. For what is the color of beauty? What hues do you see when it’s brushed across the horizon? Which tones are muted and hints are highlighted? To each their own beauty.

The Forest and the Trees

Those trees out at the park

You know the ones

They saw the full-faced smiles

Quietly stolen kisses

Bathed in moonlight and darkness

Though we were nothing but luminous

With you I saw the whole woodlands

And we picked out the perfect trunk

Limbs against limbs

Faces finding fingertips

Souls meeting in between

Like deserts finally finding rain

My Year With Prozac

My Year with Prozac:

(This is kind of a big deal for me to share but stepping out of my comfort zone has been the theme lately)

Around this time last year, I was really having a rough go of it. I’ll spare you specifics but I wasn’t the belle of the ball. It wasn’t the first time but it was the first time I decided I had had enough of drowning within myself.

So I asked for help.

And in seeking that help it was discovered that in my brain, coursing around my body, I had too much of one thing and not enough of another.

So on this day exactly one year ago, I held a little pill, half blue and half white.

I stood there, half with fear and half with hope.

And I took it that day. And the next. And at first, it robbed me of my energy and appetite. My focus and passions. It seemingly made me a little worse for a little while.

But out of moves, I took it. Day after day.

Until one day, I touched the surface of the water. I got stronger.

My fingertips brushed the air for the first time in a long time.

Pretty soon, my head was above the waves. They were rocky but I could breathe. And slowly I began to tread water.

I steadily became strong enough to deal with the “too much” while I got help with the “not enough.”

I became more balanced.

Am I balanced every single day? No.

Do I still have my down days? Anxious thoughts that can wreak havoc?

Yes. I probably always will. Sometimes the waves are choppy. And that’s okay.

It’s all part of growing. To keep going. Saying “and.” This year has taught me so much. This life is worth every breath we take.

Here’s to a year of change.

#endthestigma #mentalhealth #anxiety #depression #prozac #serotonin #tattoo


A stained window on the wall

Color washing in like a wave

Illuminating her dark quarters

Diamonds and triangles dance

Through slant cuts and shining suns

Even in moonlight she beams

Angles shift like tiny mysteries

Gears that never stop turning

Dull moments do not exist

While in her immersing presence

Solidly, she seeks her light

Longs to reach further places

Shapes to take better form

For she is too close to see it

The splendor she’s cast all along