“Every morning when I open my eyes, I feel possibility.”

Every day we keep telling the same stories. Over and over. We forget that our endings can be different. So can the plot. I think it’s time for some surprise endings.

It might be time. To do that thing. In fact it has been time for a while.

In this culture of winners and losers. Your trauma is your trauma. This is not a measuring contest of pain.

Tell me to calm down. Go ahead. Tell me I’m crazy. Tell me how it actually works. Try to make me feel small and insignificant. But I see you. For the insecure, power clutching man you are. Good luck. You need it.

I am slowly finding my way back into my skin. Or maybe that’s not it. I am growing into a new skin with knowledge and time.

A year ago everything started to change. I didn’t think I could come out on the other side. The view is fine. I’m fine. Better now.

Without authenticity you are nothing.

It’s possible to be all the parts of you that live in your heart, brain, and body. Not divided into containers. A giant messy wait of authenticity. Where you are all the things. All the time.

When you come calling I’ll answer. But I know I have to keep a piece of my heart just for me.

You are the only one I can truly count on.

I have decided that the key to happiness is strong communication.

I breathe better now. I thought I wouldn’t or couldn’t. But I was wrong. Isn’t that how it is with these things.

No. I can’t pretend that everything is the way it was. Even though that’s what we do- move on like everything is okay.

I cannot face another moment of inauthenticity. Not one more day. Saying no to the things that make me uncomfortable in my skin.

A low hum. Vibration when it hits the skin. An image. Permanent art. But the most satisfying part is- the decisive-ness. Decision made.

When I am broken you don’t try to fix me. You listen. You are there. Thankyou.

That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are wise: Her bandage hides two festering sores That once perhaps were eyes.

Throw back the shoulders, let the heart sing, let the eyes flash, let the mind be lifted up, look upward and say to yourself … nothing is impossible!

She wanted romance. I just wanted to fuck the stars out of her eyes.

The way that the water reflects off of her eyes, tells me a story of beautiful pain.

Pain often hides behind dry eyes yet that river still flows on the inside.

Kiss me with your eyes.

I can truly see myself in that light, the green iris of my eye like a jungle, full of life. And when snow covers the green, and my skin looses its color I crave that wilderness in my eye.

The things we see every day are the things we never see at all.