There's a sweet old lady who lives in the sky, on top of the clouds, collecting the wishes thrown down wishing wells. She saves them for ‘rainy days’.  One year ago today, I made a wish, throwing everything I owned (even my bed and my clothes) down a well.  I had wished for a magical kind of love.  Today it rains. It rains and rains and rains. A chilly wind cuts through whatever skin is exposed. The rain is almost snow. Where the hell did the sun go? I look up to the sky and

We didn’t end up together. It all fell apart. She didn’t come back. There was no playlist We missed our moment. There were no apologies. There was no forgiveness. It all faded away. I didn’t listen to her favorite band over and over again. I didn’t let her back in. I ignored all of the sweet and dark beauty inside of her. I didn’t love her. And she never loved me. I stayed away. She stayed away. It was okay that way. There was no reconnection. We aren’t quantuamly entangled.

I am worthy of her love. She is worthy of my love. I attract what is meant for me. She loves me. She can't get over me. I can’t get over her. We both know we belong together. She can't resist this pull to me. And I am addicted to her. The Universe/God has us together for a reason. We are a beautiful couple with limitless potential. I love her. She loves me. We will be together. She misses me too much. She aches without me. I drown without her. I am the perfect partner for her

Huh? . . . they invited me to their wedding? That’s a little wonky. That smells fishy.  It’s their second time getting married. Honestly, I am pretty damn surprised they invited me. I am a bit of a wildcard when it comes to her. I could do anything. I could show up naked and object. I could expose everything. I could parachute down from the sky and steal the bride. Her and I never did anything right. No, we did everything wrong. We dated too soon. We lived together too early

Tell me something Anything    Because lately I’ve been all or nothing for a lady     And losing her in slow motion like this Is making me a little crazy     So feed me something new Tell me something funny     Let me read a new story  Keep the news and keep your views      Read me some inspiring poetry instead Come and find me     I’ll probably be in bed But every now-and-then     I’ll be at a coffee shop or a bar    Or at a park with a book Knock on my door   Give me a call

There is a secret city in the mountains of the Pacific Northwest, where everyone who lives there owns a few money trees, planted in front of their million dollar home, next to their three $80,000 cars, obviously.  The folks that find this city are given secret seeds to the sacred money trees.  It’s their ‘reward’ for finding the hidden city.  They just have to sell their eyesight to receive them. Most do. A few turn away.  Most plant their sacred seeds and wait for them to gr

So many others out there suffer—probably everyone.  Yet, I focus almost solely on the suffering that belongs to her and I. How selfish of me.  Easing the suffering  of others  through a few words glued and stitched together, is probably better than focusing on her and I.  I've forgotten about you. I've forgotten about the zoo (society). I wonder what you are going through. . . It’s been awhile since I looked out this window. Jeez, it's dark out there. To my surprise, it's a s

It's right before the sun rise and you've spent an eternity  searching for the light,  fighting against  the forever night.  You shiver. You tremble. You growl, like a wolf  calling to the moon. You call for the sun to rise. There are no stars in the sky tonight.  It is the blackest of blacks—the darkest of darks. If you can just make it  a few more minutes you’ll feel the sun rays  on your skin again. Just a few more minutes  until the sun rises— until the light shines. It’s

Do we always believe         the person we are in love with              deserves the very best?  But,       how much do we have to love our own selves            to believe           we are what they              deserve?  Or,   will we always believe         they deserve better than us?  CH 4/19/26

I drive these streets with my eyes closed, Driving by faith, not by sight. I remember hearing something like that when I was a kid at church. Some days I am asleep when I drive. Some days I am only day-dreaming. I sing while I sleep. Bookmarks from the past blast through my speakers. ‘Sleep, perchance to dream ,’ said the preacher. . . . Wait, scratch that, It was Billy Shakespeare who said it. That dude said everything the bible didn’t, didn’t he? I start my car in one spot

She taught me how to love      And she taught me how to lose  She taught me how to build a home     And she taught me how to let it all go She taught me how to respect myself      And she revealed what I can tolerate She exposed my deepest fears     And she gave me the brightest of hopes She gave me so much joy      And she filled me with the deepest of sorrows She showed me her soul     And I showed her my mine She showed me her legs     And I let her in my mind  She became

What’s in this wretched soul today? What else could this dude possibly have left to say? I see . . . Well, let it out, good sir, Continue to spill the beans to me By all means, take your time Write a hundred thousand poems about her if need be You are free to express anything We’ll sit back and listen to your screams for attention For us, it is nothing but entertainment Take your broken heart, And create art for us to be amused by for a minute or two, Distract us properly so

Somebody died today. They lived. They tried. They might’ve wished they had more time. But, Inevitably, Like we all do, They died. And here you sit, in your own shit, complaining about the smell of it. Here you are, wasting away another day. Someone's wife died today. Someone's kid did. But you still live,  Taking it all for granted. Someone got sick. Someone lost a limb. Someone lost a parent. Someone lost a friend. And today was the last

I know reading and writing is almost dead.    I understand what’s happening to our attention span. There is no money in the arts.       Yet, it is ‘the arts’ that keep us alive. Music,    Books, Poetry,    Love, Meaning,    Beauty , Sex:    Are these not the things that make life worth living?   Who you are after you read a poem is different from who you were before you read it, isn’t it?     Certain songs change lives. And books change consciousness.    But in good ol Americ

I’ve written out 50 different apologies     that she will never see. I’ve had thousands of conversations with her in my head that she’ll never hear.       I keep having seriously fucked dreams about her, but she isn’t actually in any of them. It’s weird. And I never dream when I smoke this much weed.       I’ve said goodbye to her way too many times already. I’ve lived in a fantasy world in my head for way too long.       I’ve checked her Spotify to see if she’s unblocked me

I can’t even get drunk enough to text you.  Even drunk me knows it’s a bad idea.  I’d like to drink enough to be free.  And if I could smoke enough, Then maybe, I’d feel numb; And if I drink enough after that, Maybe, I'll be dumb enough To call you, Like I used to. And maybe if I sleep enough, Time will continue to pass, And I’ll wake up one day and feel okay. I wonder how drunk I have to be to text you? How high do I have to be for you to see me? . . . This doesn’t make any

Did we miss our moment? Did we blow it? Did we take what we had for granted when he had it? Can we ever get the past back? Or, is our moment gone forever? Did we miss our chance? Did it fade away? Maybe this kind of love can never last? Maybe it burns too bright to be sustained? I’m terrified that we missed our moment . . .  We didn’t miss our moment, we had it. And we let it go . . . Why’d we let it go, again? . . . I see. Was it worth it? Is he worth it? Do we have a futur

One year ago today a lady stumbled into my life. I liked a few of her pictures and she sent me a message. She was a stranger to me, and honestly, she looked kind of dorky. I never suspected a thing. I didn’t even notice her beauty. We talked and talked and talked and talked, never stopping to breathe. Her voice became so sweet to me. Suddenly, life was exciting. And then she flew to me. That was it. She stayed for a week and I was changed completely. I knew I was already in l

There is a pen on the edge of the coffee table in front of me and I get the itch to use it. I haven't written by hand in so long. A strange excitement jolts through my body. I walk to my bedroom to grab a notebook. It's got notes from my old job 6 years ago and a poem in it. The poem reads, ‘This isn't just a pen. No, in this pen lives my imagination. It was a gift from a myth who has blessed me with it. A man, who I don't understand, told me to take a stand. So, with this

There is nothing I could write that could save us, is there? There is no song you could hear that would bring you here. There is no book we could read that could get you to come back to me.  We are simply grieving a fantasy, aren't we? There is nothing else for us to do but to let go.   . . . So, babe, why can't we let go?  . . . Would you want to let go of each other at the same time? Would that help? You let go of me on the count of three, and I’ll let go of you on the coun