doesnt need a title.

Somewhere beneath a skyscape of LA fires and ashes, I know people who are barely beginning to learn the angles and bones of each others bodies. And here... within pockets of floors and clocks that are untied to (otherwise) worldly acknowledgment, there are walls becoming surrendered.
I know that I am not a religious person. I cannot define God. I cannot define what It is, or how It manifests. But. I do know that there is something religiously deep-seated and moving when I can close my eyes at night and know that opening them in the morning wont change the images I see, or the things I feel when I am most vulnerable and falling deep (very deep) into mores of reckless adoration and harmony… because this feels like the best and worst kind of drug. I know.

I know what surprises me within a kiss. I know what God isn’t. I know that people wake up every morning. And that Love is a word like God.

please

i want you to steal things
from me.

a small truth

sadness makes for long poems.
happiness - short ones.

freckles
freckles
freckles

the

Lord has been kind
to me

she tells
things never told
after the sun has fallen into the sea

today feels like

tra la la la la dee laaaa di daaaaaa

untitled.

its slowly getting harder to read...