(freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose) 8×10 1.18.18


|love is trusting the person will always come back ; people can’t be honest with each other, because the truth hurts too much|

8×10 watercolor 1.11.18

boxes and lines

And you say,
You want to please me.
You say,
You want me to feel good everywhere.
You say,
You want to tease me.

This place and space and time and situation.

How did I arrive here –
How did you get here –
How did this begin –
Where are we –
Where are we going –
Who are you –
How did you get here –
How did I arrive here –

(Existence is a thing that is.)

And you say,
You can’t connect.
You say,
I will be left hurt in the end.

How does this story end –
How did this begin –
Where are we going –
Who are you –
What are we doing –
How will this story end –

(Existence is thing that is.)

The direction moves forward only.
Along this direction embodies a box.
Along this direction embodies a second box.
The direction only moves forward.

9×12     1.10.18

1, 2, 3

Pt 1
After the second kiss,
I found myself at a crossroads.
Seeking a feeling,
I could not find.
Forcing something
That was not there.
All that has been,
Already said,
Is what I meant.

Revelations don’t change the past.

What to do now,
Is the question at hand.

Will it be,
What will be?



“Attraction a distraction
A fraction in a lifetime of satisfaction
Take action or back off”

Pt 2
People come into our lives.
And then they leave.
Ventures end.
Explanations not required.

Pt 3
I obviously care.
And it pains me to say.
Magnetized still.
Misplaced probably.
It feels good to connect.
Passion lost.
Passion less.
Agree to agree.
Excuses, excuses.
Stop this goddamn charade.


(four weeks)

Everyone loves a good death.
Everyone loves tragedy –
Like standing in awe of a burning house,
How it’s life once was,
And the beauty of it being destroyed by its now engulfing flames.
She said, “I’m a sucker for a tragic romance.”
Romeo and Juliet started it all –
Or was it Adam and Eve,
Exiled from the Garden of Eden.
Everyone loves a good death.
Such excitement when it is in the hands of your own.
The will of God lost between the fine lines of the predetermined path and what we pave.
Everyone loves a good death.
We will all succumb to it one day.
It will find us,
Rob us,
A thief in the night.
Onlookers until then,
At the captives it steals,
We were not plucked,
And envious,
All the same.