I implore you to root yourself
establish yourself in
never patting yourself on the back
for being productive
because you
are MORE
than the things you have done
the things you have failed to do
You are enough.


I’m feeling Ephesians 3:17. 



I wish I felt like this more often. 3:06 AM and I have forgotten for a moment what tomorrow holds. It feels like I could do anything.


Sadness, drips, cold sweat.
Puddle, shower, drips, wet.
Hang head, switch off,
Hang on, rinse off
Who you were when you
stepped in
Make you new when you
step out.


Half good, half toasted.
Mostly full, mostly bloated.
Tomorrow I’ll try again,
and I’ll miss being
easy to talk to
in the morning.


I like things that sound
like Dreamscape,
Semi consciousness, like a
Utopic autopilot
Flow, like rap, like
people who just
access a truthful part
of the human heart.


3:20 AM.


I will be in France, one arm out the widow of my car. Glinting light on the windshield.

I will whisper words in my sleep and wake up with a new song.

I will garnish baked lasagna for my friends and set the table with candles. I will have them invite their friends, my neighbours too. Try these lemon lamingtons- I used to burn them in college.

I will tell them it’s going to be okay. Because I turned out fine.
By God’s grace, I turned out fine.


That word brings to mind one particular person. Erin. The things you say shock me.
It’s a profound realisation that there’s not a single thing I don’t like about you. Not even one thing that I find irritating or slightly annoying. How crazy is that.


for days now i’ve woken up feeling like grounded glass. i cannot lift my eyes forward because i carry the residue of yesterday. peanut butter out of the jar, into my belly and into the air. i feel like i am wading in it.

frustration. what does it feel like in this body? like heat rising under a lidded pot, like thrashing through a million hangers– why do i have so many  fucking clothes! that I don’t even like! All of them are roadblocks i have built and i am so angry with myself. a tower of terror, this sense of failure. it’s a stifled cry, out through the nose… i’m suffocating because i know better than to wallow.

Jesus, will your victory be mine today. Hurry, do not delay.

4am thoughts

Full bloom is when the earth won’t stop smiling, the world won’t stop spinning into the furthest of reaches.

If I could put your laughter in a box, I would sink like sand. Quick, hold me.

Be the person that proclaims with your being: I am proof that there is good in the world.

High tech marks a forward trajectory, approaching Most Human and then surpassing it.

Phone therapy replaces phone sex. What have we done to our insides?

My ego loves you. I however, don’t.

Time feels like the tired grope of my hands on a rope pulled tight. Down the rabbit hole we go.