i am so fragile

sleep, dreams

last night i had such an intense dream that i came sprinting out of my bed fleeing towards the kitchen to take on (what i thought) were intruders in the house. i was filled with an animalistic fear of death and a call to action. i ran out in such a hurry to take on whatever force was at my door, stopping only to tell my sleeping roommate that he had to come help quickly. my roomies had come home from the bar and spilled drinks on the ground and were yelling because of it. somehow that got into my dream and it became the sound of people screaming for help. i remember nothing of my dream except that i felt absolute fear, myself dying, and others that needed help - this was all presented to me through (seemingly) geometric patterns in my head.

i 'came out of it' after everyone in the house was staring at me like "what's wrong?!". i felt as if i was on a hallucinogenic drug for ~ 5 minutes, watching everything go by in a blurry haze and asking those around me if i was still asleep. i drank some water and retreated back to bed.

later i woke up with an intense start again, this time in a cold sweat, feeling the same excited fear but not as intense. this is wholly new to me. my mind is operating in ways i have not felt in a very long time...

f(x)=love me

write to me
tell me you
x

i've
become a painting
in
a sea
of dark blue blanket
my eyes
mould
transform
and swirl

i don't
burn in you

blink
look inward
the storm
is here
inside me
only

eleven months

nature's first four seasons with no 'her'

it's the fall 

that i stood up from

i learned to walk again

the people disappear from the streets

the wind comes around from the north

a chill sneaks into every grain of sand

summer2k11

holie crap RIP blog!!

hehe no j/k
the more successful i become in competitions the less i write online. IT CONSUMES MY LIEF. but it's a good thing temporarily. i've been getting 1st place finishes in the mile run, 3rd in the region for the 2k and 7th in the nation for the 2k run on the beach.

shit's crazy

ay

all-time high all-time low

coalesce in my ears
sounds
a dense ball of firing neurons
lips pursed, moving, foreign
mildly dissatisfied but perfectly aware
surrounded by multitudes but desiring solitudes
understanding in tongues and being lost in speech
dart across her eyes
the flower's edges creased over
an octagonal blue rose encapsulated by green ridges
mountain peaks i climb
every time i gaze
swim through your whites and begin my ascent
my flight through canyons and valleys
to reach the overlook
to be moved in awe
to reach truth
or my death

ode to the 'stache

a blade of grass, for life

what if i were to take scissors
to every blade of grass
i have no idea what to do with my life
but 'as long as you're doing something'
seems like good advice
i could be busy my entire life
if i made grass my business
i could be content and happy
as long as i never thought about progress
or the futility
of taking scissors to every blade of grass

when you think about progress
and have goals
and need to cut grass
under a timeline
under a deadline
then you can become depressed
about taking scissors
to every blade of grass
but if you just
if you just
if you
if
i
i
i be
i just be
if i just be

why would anyone ever be unhappy
what can you be depressed about
if you just be and not think
but just be
i want to just be and stop thinking about futility
deadlines goals progress
achievement measurement worth
value productivity efficiency
unhappiness depression stress
death

i reject this death
i want to live with passion
i feel passion
i feel love
i dont want to 'just' be
i want to just be
i
i
i

A short play

HOME FOR THE WEEKEND

Me: Mom, do you have any xanax or anti-anxiety meds I could take for my flight?

Mom: No hunny, but I have some percocets.

A FEW DAYS LATER ON THE PHONE

Mom: Why are you anxious to fly?

Me: I dunno, end of the world...rapture...dunno...i think the world is going to end while i'm flying or something, jet might fall out of the sky. (pause) I guess I just don't trust man made structures.

Mom: You have more of a chance of getting hit by a car or dieing while driving, there's nothing to worry about. Flying is exciting! It's an adventure. It's fun.

Me: I know i know, it's irrational. Maybe it's a control thing. i dunno. I'm excited, it's cool, nevermind. I'm cool. Ya. Ya, hm, yaaaa, okay, ya, i'm gonna get a window seat hopefully.

A FEW DAYS LATER ON THE PLANE

[CENSORED]

this wasn't supposed to be a love poem

the shirt i'm wearing is not Springy enough
but the shirt underneath is too small
i have no alternatives
i'm stuck in an in-between and not liking either option
i move to go to the bathroom
i want to drop through the floor
maybe travel through the cold hard rock beneath me
swim through the taffy, be warmed at the core
then come out somewhere that is elsewhere
a different here that is new for a while
that would be adventurous

instead i'm looking over my shoulder
fear is gripping my back and he won't let go
i keep seeing your shadow but i trace it back to a mannequin
the mannequin knows no love
still it stands there sorta perfect and knowing it is sorta perfect
frozen in coquettish nonchalance
stupid mannequin
i sympathize with the mannequin
i love the mannequin

the surface of the earth is rugged
the shape is more like a potato than a sphere
from the outside it appears dynamic, vibrant, healthy
but the computer models all agree:
a misshapen geoid, a hunk of rock
these thoughts plague me while i stare in the mirror,
when i look at my face,
when i catch a glimpse of that headband on my desk