spring cleaning

forced sensory overload, music, melodic catharsis, a desk, a computer, a sack of thoughts, and a dare. I dare you Ocean… let go. before it’s too late to return back. turn, before you’re too hurt to forgive, before the wounds infect those parts that still remain in tact. It is over. He has gone back to the familiar, back to the straight and narrow, somewhere where you are nothing but a pastime to their quality time. I bet his apologies were more sincere than the excuses of who you were, where y'all met, how he felt, and what happened along the way. I bet it was a three-ring circus of circles and name-calling, omission, and denial. Shards of sorrys that undercut what y'all built. Sorrys that void the passionate love y'all made. I can’t help but think he is happy. Happy enough to walk away with a hope that someday he’ll find you again. They say, if you love something, then let it go…I say then, it will come back to you more FUCKED up than when it left…ask God how Jesus was when he got back to heaven. Holey. Heretic. Haphazard. I'm going to need that key back, this heart should have never turned the lights off the vacancy sign. Rewind. Reset. Regroup. Ocean, I dare you…let go. Now is the time to deliver a hearty “fuck you” because boy did he fuck you, then so easily did he leave you… simply a mistress, misfit, a passing thought so quick to forget. And love fell into you like an avalanche of bricks. now you can’t even listen without a filter, listen without letting that bruised mind meander through hypothetical conversations where your ears weren’t invited. The pillow talk on her pillows, the red digits morphing in HER peripheral instead you so poetically measuring time by the glassiness of his eyes…do not falter, you must not fail… you must swallow more than you did the last time. Carve that last goodbye inside the crevice of your thigh… make it a masterpiece, so disastrous, so ugly and abstract, that from now on, you’ll learn to be more careful…there are no wolves in sheep’s clothing…there are only fiends blessed with nips and tucks…this is facelift faith…love I you?

The Universe

a man is only as strong as the woman he loves and a woman is only as weak as that man when he needs to be.. Balance. rarely is this word applied to the fruition of relationship success. i know this fact first hand. call me crazy, but i know i am an angel. i know that most people i meet will last for a season and then whither away as the earth revolves on its tiny axis. i turned on my damage cruise control about 8 years ago. some call it a defense mechanism. i call it choice, voluntary experience whether it hurts or not. i will argue until my death that this remains true: a humble and mature woman must prepare herself; she must be okay with happily planting seeds in fertile grounds; she must be willing to walk away if necessary; she must be content with never watching that seed grow into something beautiful. so here i am. a gallery of broken hearts and experiences. an exhibition of faith and failure. an embodiment of hindsight confessionals. am i okay? definitely. the universe has a strange way of rewarding those who trust its divine order. a beautiful woman once told me that if i intended to be truly happy i must open myself completely to the universe. in the 30 seconds after she left i bounced a trillion confusions around in my head. assumed a vow to change. we are all addicted to uncertainty and often spend lifetimes trying to kick the habit. why? i no longer need to know the end result. i welcome everyone, creative instrument in hand, to compose something on my life's canvas. instead of falling, i tie parachutes around my open heart. enjoy the scenery. mingle with the direction the wind takes me. it may take longer to be on two feet again, but i am in no rush, nor am i in the business of speeding through life. enjoy the ride. it's well worth it...