the sky is on fire

and I don’t know if I’ll make it past today

where can we go from here

when the rain has past

and all we have left is the debris

of everything I’ve broken until now

a stream and regrets and lost items

no one wants nor will ever retrieve

I’m sorry if I did everything wrong

its the only way I knew


the sky is grey again

because everything moves forward

what more is here for me

when up never feels higher

and around only feels lower


The lights push against the emptiness

bound by wires and fate

full once but never again

on the concrete it’s alone again

waiting waiting to be picked up, filled and emptied again

what shopping cart lives we lead


the clouds are back

but maybe the rain has stopped

and I’m edging closer to the door

why clean up again when I could just leave my arms open

and breathe







The White Helmets {poetry}

Covered in dust

Digging with bare hands

They search for the living the dying the dead

Each day, watching the sky, for the woosh and what comes after

A country where tears have long since dried up

thousands of dead

and they watch the sky

follow the trail of pain with only hope


for the last bit of life buried under dust that used to be walls

walls that used to hold families, paintings, signs of joy

but now hold fear and inevitable numbness

Shock has long since passed, perhaps after the fifteenth shockwave felt

We watch the sky and do nothing

They watch the sky

and hope.

Not quite summer {poetry}

In the crack between toes
the bleak sun finds a grip
on the stained windows
and curtains that were just scraps of clothing yesterday
the fig tree out front
its fruit weighs heavy
the birds shout with glee for gluttony

It's been ages
since they were out front under the fig tree
to do anything but move the old car
it only moves in neutral you know

But hope finds a way
Ever since her sister gave her the sapling
and yes, the curtains need be washed
and yes, the other dog died again
and yes, the helicopters circle overhead
and yes, something somewhere is leaking

But the heat is fading
and the night is cooler now

quiet {poetry}

In a house full of sleeping things

where the buzz of the outside world quietly goes to die

there are only broken pieces here to be mended


the sharpness fills the air

piercing through skin with words

in a way that wasn’t born of razors or knives

just sharp discontent

and pieces

unwilling to be mended by the seamstress who waits

just waits.


I always worried the clay would crumble
As we were crafting pots from the river
And our delicate fort of twigs and leaves fell apart when I forgot to hold you up and feel the sunlight

When you’re away, I’ll build it up big and strong with memories of past cottages and cities
And when you’re home, we’ll burrow in deep with the twisted pieces of everything we have
Yesterday I forgot to hold it up
Today it comes crashing down and there is no one to blame but myself and the swallows next door

We live in a fortitude of dreams and aspirations
And curled up in the corner a cat purring loudly
The clay crumbles

The clay crumbles.

alone {poetry}

find me alone

and I’ll try to be there for you

I’ll look into the eyes that say words you know I don’t want to hear

but we’ll know

and I’ll run into the leaves, where I can hide in the crunching of fall

past midnight and the door opens

nothing could be better now

the fear of letting go is not a fear past midnight, in the twists of the sheets that are as soft as summer

hold my wrists down and look at me, but not like that

because the answer you are looking for isn’t here

it might come with the morning glories

but tonight

find me alone

whispers in the night {poetry}

I worried I heard you whisper
into the night
into the wall
that you loved me
your leg thrown over mine
in a subconscious attempt to claim me for you
the buzz of siren of the city outside

The guilt sank in
There’s nothing wrong with you
There’s nothing wrong with me
but it’s not going to be enough
a perfectly plated meal
an earnest look
a wish for something more
that we both ignore

Your voice in the night
whispering something
that I never wanted to hear

sinner {poetry}


Was listening to this…got thinking. Something quick to get it out of my head

Hanging on the edge
I got up and said “I have to go”
Too late to undo last night
Too soon to try and fix it all
In the silence of the morning
piling on sins to wash away it all
tearing everything I know apart

Come over
the words escaped my fingers
and then it was too late
just to get a hand on mine
an arm around my waist
piling on sins
to rush the forget
the more the more the more and it’ll all be OK.

I don’t like who I became with you
and I am only so sure of who I am
piling on the sins
looking for the needles
just to feel the pain
and find myself in their arms

Maybe just once
I’ll get it right
and I’ll forget
who I was with you.

Piling on the sins
piling on the sins
and in the ashes
I’ll be there.

A love letter to Los Angeles

Chapters are going well, but wanted to take a break to write this.

Ups and downs
Hills and oceans
Where dreams go to find their place in our hearts
A city of wanderers and souls never found
Where the deserts and oceans meet hidden staircases and rainforests
Forgetting who we were before
To find someone new
A city of archangels
Driving with to top down at midnight on a Tuesday

A love letter to Los Angeles
Where my heart was broken
Broken and found
Mended by the elderly black man who told me good morning twice
And the stranger who stopped to talk about her dress
Forests to seas
City to wilderness
The side not on the box

You hate the tiny skirts
And lay pride in the man pasted on the building’s side
Where my vague dreams became reality
And everything else fell apart

A love letter to Los Angeles
Grime shining like diamonds in Hollywood
Swimming pools full of leaves from no where
The breeze on top of the world
A city of angels
Wounded and smiling.