Inside I’d be empty if not for this doubt. I’ve tried more than plenty to just pour it out. It sticks, and it stains, it refuses to pour. It hurts, and it pains, and I want it no more. But how can I empty this doubt and be free, when plenty of empty still lingers in me?

I hear your cosmic frequency and feel you through the verse. Receiving all your signals here, at 30 megahertz. I listen closely, feel your vibes, and hear you when you speak. We resonate together now in something that’s unique. The fabrics that we stitch together spread through all of time, but they were always our creations, never were they mine.

When you come to a fork in the road if intentions are not clearly known. By letting go fear a path will appear to guide you along your way home. Fork was originally published in the Tiny Seed Literary Journal.

I used to be the number Nine (uneven orbit, and inclined). But over time, so much had changed. To redefine, left me estranged. A core of rock, and crust of ice, crevasses deep that cut and slice. An atmosphere that comes and goes, and fields of magnets no one knows. My heart I bare for all to see, throughout the system, cosmically. But still, a planet I am not... A lonely object you forgot. Until the day a poet said, with passion, vigor, as he bled; A planet thou no longer ar

When I was just a speck of dust and floating through the verse, I dreamed that I'd become a planet, vast and more diverse. As luck would have it, there I grew— and grew, and grew, and grew— embracing all this “gravitation,” now I’m round and blue. Across my surface flows a liquid integral to life, and as it spreads it cuts through rock, and slices like a knife. It nourishes organic compounds energized by light a rather simple molecule with rather complex might. Without this l

We wilt, we suffer, we burn, and stumble. We melt, we break, believe, and crumble. We lie, we cheat, pretend, and deceive. We damage, we rust, we tear, and unweave. We shatter like glass, then dissolve into sand. But it’s all so beautiful once we understand.

Within my mind exists a place with pink and blue Dalmatians. Where noble knights stand up to fight, decreed emancipation. Where I can fly a cardboard box and master aviation. And sore beyond the stratosphere in full perpetuation. A place where I can be a star within a constellation. Or maybe even be a spell, a wizard’s conjuration. Where I can draw a masterpiece to help spark inspiration, then hang it up upon a wall, an Escher tessellation. A place to do just anything in any

When we were all but seedlings and the world was still brand new, the skies were never dark for me and that’s because of you. The winds were never cold for me no matter where they blew. And nor the sun too hot for me without the morning dew. The clouds were never gray for me their colors always true. The bees were always kind to me, the other insect’s too. The love I found surrounding me was something that I knew was all because you grew with me as I grew there with you.

We hold perfection in our hands but never questioned why, as beautiful these flowers are we’d rather watch them die.