the feeling

I wanted you to speak more and you did. and I didn’t like some of what you said. I was mad because you had been perfect. the little that you had said was perfect. then you spoke more to me and

you weren’t perfect anymore.

I saw your flaws

And I didn’t like them


But something happened, something that broke my usual mold :

I didn’t run. I didn’t stop caring. not an ounce of indifference came over me.

some things you said bothered me. some ways in which you acted made me sad. because you mattered. because I was starting to feel unconditional love slowly bubbling inside of me.

I wish I didn’t have to let you go.

but this is the last goodbye, and I thank you for the feeling.

white rock, 2016


no good alone

Says one time he went out in the wilderness to find his own soul, an’ he found he didn’t have no soul that was his’n. Says he foun’ he jus’ got a little piece of  a great big soul. Says wilderness ain’t no good cause his little piece of soul wasn’t good ‘less it was with the rest, an’ was whole. Funny how I remember. Didn’ think I was even listening. But I know now a fella ain’t no good alone. 

-the grapes of wrath, p 437


you look in awe

not of me

of that I’m not her

and you’re happy


But it’s not me

I’m just a novelty

to you

and to many


But novelties fade

awe dissipates

you’ll leave full

and I’ll be empty


Getting over her

through me

And you’ll never have

to get over me.


I’m just a novelty

brooklyn, 2016


There was no system to soothe the unfairness of things; justice was without scope; it might snag the stealer of chickens, but great evasive crimes would have to be dismissed because, if identified and netted, they would bring the entire structure of so-called civilisation. For crimes that took place between two nations, for crimes that took place in those intimate spaces between two people without a witness, for these crimes the guilty would never pay. There was no religion and no government that would relieve people from this hell. 

-The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai


So many almosts.

Fuck almosts.

But the pain of an almost is always better than the easy void of a not at all.

The day I choose the certainty of a not at all over the risk of an almost is the day I allow my youth to crumble.

My youth will never crumble.

I might live a life full of almosts, or maybe, one day, an almost will cease to be an almost and we’ll be there.

And it will be worth every other almost.

But fuck almosts.

brooklyn, 2015