Wednesday, May 4, 2011


sometimes, i wish it all would be the same.

(back when we thought we were invincible and we didn't take each other lightly).

Monday, May 2, 2011


And I am fool
for not understanding
just how important the moment(s) were when they were being experienced.
The small times,
those small times.
driving your aunt's car and listening to mixes you made back in High School...
like, having yard sales in the mornings with your mother, selling our things.
lying in bed with you.

If I have learned anything,
I have learned that I should never want more than I have.
Excess does not mean happiness (I should fucking know that).
If I will learn anything,
it will be that I am grateful for the present and for knowing and loving you.


I don't want Jordyn to leave.
Ok, I mean I do want her to do this for herself but there is a tiny space floating somewhere that would be quite alright being selfish and having her here.
But if it really came down to it,
I would not want her to pass this up.

But as I was sitting down in the Starbucks by my work,
something sunk in.
Once she leaves, there will not be anything to look forward to when I come home.


Monday, April 18, 2011

48th st.

fuck. that house. there was a fence surrounding that house.


big mouth.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011


this mid life crisis is really only a thesis, both end with "is" and "is" can only mean one real thing. there is no danger. this is exciting. this is the time when doors will be opening-not closing. everything can mean nothing or something-depending on how i look at it. and currently, i am tired of staring at the dreary. so, i will be a creator of sorts and rally odd thoughts on the past and futures and worry not. WORRY NOT.

Monday, April 4, 2011


wigs. they were different colors, sometimes. and to think that she must have cared a whole lot to have her babies back that she would go through all of the trouble of buying a few wigs. i wonder what made her choose certain colors? i remember her hair has always been the color of Auburn. I remember wanting to dye my hair in order to match hers. I remember when I looked up to her. I remember when she was our hero. Ours. My brother and I. That's right. I have a younger brother but sometimes, i forget that he is not the elder. Older. Older than I. So, she bought wigs and became a disguise. All the while, I-never knowing-that she would forever be a disguise. Even to her own children. I know this now. 26, and now it finally hits me.

remember that

when i was younger, i used to read. i read to take myself out of the element. i read because i had to. there was nothing else to do to distract me from what was around me. i think to some degree, I still read for this same reason. hide yourself in some pages, forget what is real forget what is not. my mother. she was always alone. fraught with anger, there have always been two sides to her. i think maybe the process of poverty, or maybe it's in the genes- or maybe she was exposed to filth as a child- there is no endpoint to excuses. (remember that) my mother. her skin has always been the same color. no emotion i'm all emotion. no emotion coems through her. i think it's maybe the cycle of her frustrations, or maybe it's her environment, or maybe it's the people that linger and hover around her- there is no endpoint to excuses (remember that) i stay and linger and hover around her over her over her over her as if i can protect her. but i know how this shit is going to end.


this music in the hotel lobby is draggin' me down. my family is a fucking joke. they are bringing me down.

Monday, March 28, 2011

solo swell

"knowing mother, I knew that I would never really know mother" everyone has left the hotel for dinner. it is roughly 7:40pm and the door has stayed shut for some time. everyone is walking down the blocks that i have walked so many times before. this city is Sacramento this city was where we once loved one another. so many others. lately, all i ever do is think of the past. i don't mind this except for the fact that it then creates a gnawing pain that won't stop. sometimes it's at my side, other times it is headed more toward my lungs. at times, i feel it losing it's color. but it just keeps on going and my mind starts racing. too much remembering. can you please lose this memory bank faster? what the hell is going to happen if i do end up losing my memory? MOTHER. shit happened during childhood that wasan't supposed to. FATHER neglect is a very heavy thing.

Monday, February 28, 2011

6th st never leaves me

the deranged best friend.
all i see are numbers
all i think about is that porch
we used to sit in
dangling our legs over the grass
toes in the air
eyes to the sky
and you were always high
popping some pills
talking in the dark park
at night counting the angels
i wanted to be your angel
but you wouldn't let me hold your hand
but you wrote me a love letter
i have it still
do i?
i do.
i found it as a surprise in a box with other letters and papers that i should throw away
the best thing about that house was that there were secrets and confidences
that we all never threw away
they are still buried deep inside there.

Monday, February 14, 2011


you are intriguing me.

Monday, January 3, 2011


This new years started off hopeful.
But by the time 1am trolled in,
alcohol and tempers ruined what could have been a very peaceful and memorable night.
And yes,
this new years will be remembered
but not for the right reasons.

Oh, well. Goodbye you.
Can't let dumb shit get me down.

Here's to the rest of the year with high hopes and big sighs.