Be like the Earth. She doesn’t care if you love Her or think She’s beautiful. She continues existing the way She has always existed; She continues doing exactly what She has done since She was born. Some people revel in Her beauty. Some destroy it: they tear Her down and tell Her how She should be and try to change Her to meet their needs. But She does not change; She does not bend. She continues to be how She always has been. The streams that have always flooded continue to flood. The forest fires continue to burn. Droughts continue to dry the land. We blame Her for being herself, for refusing to change for us, and yet She continues on.

Be like the Earth. It is okay to catch fire– it clears crowded places and makes them clean. Let there be drought and flood to allow seeds to germinate and grow. The universe is inside you– do not fear these times. Do not dam the floods within you or try to put out your fires. Let them cleanse you, let them grow you, and no matter what, continue to persevere.

Be like the Earth: cause earthquakes in cities you never wanted built in the first place.

Be like the Earth // a.s.m

Fe

So much can change
in so little time.
All you had– gone–
in the blink of an eye.
Don’t dwell on the past,
it’s already gone by.
Turn your face to the future
and see how it shines.
Please trust when I say
it’ll all turn out fine,
not long after darkness
the world will be bright.

Freedom To Believe What They Want You To Believe

they dunked me underwater

long before i could swim.

i was not born

with communion wafers dissolving

on my tongue.

they took my mind and

threw a snake in it.

a slithering snake that snarls

at humanity and

what they have become.

but i will laugh and dance while

i am ripe and still have the

recourse to forget.

motion is the only guarantee:

they’ve not stamped a cross

upon me yet.

Look where you want to go, not where you’re afraid to go.

my dad told me this when i was learning to ride my bike and i always chant it to myself when i’m anxious

Sleep talking

Prose rises
from your lips while
you sleep. I wish I understood
what you were saying, but
you mumble
in a language I will never know–
you whisper secrets
to me I will never hear.

Rehab

I’d shoot you up,
swallow you whole with
a glass of orange juice
in the morning—
inhale you
during my lunch breaks.

I thought that I needed you.

Now my sheets are drenched
in all the words you’ve ever said and
my eyes roll back to replay
your smile until it distorts
into a sneer.
And I can smell your sweat.
I can taste your lips.
I can taste the milk going sour.

You are leaking out of
the bullet holes—out of
all of my pores—but
I know this
is part of getting clean.