My dogs make my day, everyday.

My new pen could write anything
it could open up doors that other pens
wouldn’t dream of opening

This new pen
could write things never written before
draw things never previously drawn

My new pen
took a while to start shedding it’s ink
but that’s okay

because if I was a pen, I’d do the same thing
because

This new pen
has limitless possibilities
I mean, really endless ones

My pen could do anything
but it hasn’t yet 

I’m tying my shoe, but

I don’t really mean it

There’s just something about a pencil that makes words flow out so much more gracefully than the ones that trip out of my mouth.

(As usual, photo is by me unless stated otherwise. This was taken by me on a holga, black and white film)

Toppled over and they took me over,
scavenging through tough knots as they gnawed on my stony organs from the
inside out,
assisting in plumping up their tiny ballooning bellies full of
sticky sap, until they couldn’t manage to swallow another lonely splinter.

Amidst all of my anger I managed to
unclench my wooden fists, so as to place them on one of the needle-like creatures awkwardly
like chopsticks
I maneuvered those holly fingers and plucked up a termite
and flicked it into the foliage
so it would be lost in the forest

and it could find some other,
less resistant

tree to uproot 

Entangled in the desert breeze
silly sounds at my knees
Little stones at my feet
Wrangled by the creeping bees
lonely in the whipping sand
trying hard to keep a hand
on things here and things there
things existing everywhere 

Collage I made for art, but I didn’t end up submitting it anyways. Oh well… fun to make.

Love fucking sucks and I hate it and I swear I’ll never fall in love again.

I’m leaping ahead on leap day.
In truth, time never stops, it just casts a shadow of illusion that it does. In truth, the only moment you have is this one. Right here. Right now. Some little reassuring glint of light which you can control. But it’s a fraud, too.
So look at it. Stare at it closely. Watch it’s deceitful eyes flick back and forth against yours.
It appears to stop all the time. An evil trick.
When you’re a child— time stops
It seems as though you’ll be a juvenile forever. Adults and their subjective way of life, it’s all so foreign to you.
Again, when you’re a teenager— time stops
Having responsibilities is an ominous task awaiting you at every fork in the road. So close, but so far away. There’s no need to think of that burden yet.
Things from a distance don’t look like they exist, quite frankly
Then you pass another destination, another landmark that you didn’t even expect to be visible at this range yet. And it’s gone. It’s gone.
Just gone with everything else.

Which prompts the question— where does it all go? 

I’m expecting to be caught off guard and arrive at some unescapable predicament. Uncertainty is what this “thing” time gives me. A limit. And at the same time, an uncontrollable sense of claustrophobia.
What a pest time is. I’d like to lock time in a jar. I’d like to interrogate it— interrogate time and make it speak.
Make it tell me
“everything’s gonna be all right” 

I think it’s safe to say that everyone appreciates a sense of structure in their lives.

Not only this, but everyone appreciates the feeling of somehow being different. Set apart from the rest.
We like to hear ourselves described as “unique”, because being one-of-a-kind is the only way to imagine that we’re impacting our surroundings, unlike the other people, those insignificant, drone-like creatures… they all seem the same when you’re looking out of your own pair of eyes, your inescapable own pair of eyes forever connected to your constantly decomposing, merely finite body;

Contrary to what I, and I’m sure you, like to believe, you and I are not the most dimensional, the most creative, the most refined human beings on this planet.
Not one person is particularly more special, more unique, or more valuable than the next.

Especially don’t let the values that are placed on people from the outside mislead you. They are useless. They don’t properly judge the importance of one role over the other at all. It’s just a failed attempt to create the illusion of structure, class, and hierarchy.
Why can’t we live beside one another knowing that we’re all equals, and no one puzzle piece is more important than the next in the completion of a fully functioning society? 

The trash collectors, the house cleaners, and the volunteer workers at old-age homes, daycare centers, and veterans hospitals, are as important and vital in our society as the most respected doctors.
The kindergarden, elementary, middle school, and high school teachers play just as much of a pivotal role as the professors in the top universities do, if not more.
Yet the salaries are so varied, and so is the status-quo for each position.

I think that people’s selfish agenda would slowly die out once the masses of our society figure this out.