“I can’t take it all in or else I’ll grow cold when the heat already escapes my fingers and toes.”

I search for comedy scripts / I watch happy shows / In hopes that laughter will be the remedy I end my day with.

I hide myself in the galaxies of my creations – unsure of who I am beyond that.

I wonder why I’m so empathetic, why people perceive me to be so kind. I don’t want my heart to burn when there’s no one burning mine.

We walk in circles, never knowing when to end the cycle our hearts put us in.

Somewhere the silence resonates, the clutter clears, and you’re set to start again.

And so, my ‘What if’s’ became ‘What’s next?’

Why is it that you have more practice describing weaknesses than strengths? It’s not your fault they never went to the lengths to teach you how to value your strengths.

It felt vulnerable to have people know my weaknesses, but there is so much strength from going back to the start and re-determining who you are.

Let go of the honey-sweet lies for the bittersweet truths.

When you and the world are out of breath, take the steps to ensure your own needs are met. By the moment you know someone can’t on their own, you’ll hopefully be ready to help.

I carry on knowing that when I deteriorate, my body will be a museum of all I can do and all that hindered me.

It’s really hard to grow up wanting to provide people with resources and support and realizing that while I can and will do that – I also need more than I thought I would.

The thought of you having to try hurts because it feels like you should have known to let me go before you grabbed ahold.

Tell me I’m sun-kissed, but you burn my skin. And you already told me, I was paper thin.

They hit like waves, the memories of those old summer days. Memories you’d have thought to erase, but they crash ashore without haste.

I write poems of the past; they reveal the reasons we didn’t last.

Cold is merciless. It shows you where you are. What you are.

Please the night’s cold, not her name again!

The marble keeps merely a cold and sad memory of a man who would else be forgotten. No man who needs a monument ever ought to have one.

Yes, my teacher is the cold.

In the cold I centre myself and my breathing to transfer all my heat into the centre of my body.

I’ve done about anything I can fantasize about in the cold.

Arthritis, Crohn’s disease, psoriasis, depression – all of those diseases are a result of our neglected biochemistry. We need to be stimulated to help fight disease. Cold is a great stimulator.

Men of cold passions have quick eyes.