there were never really any regrets
just this meticulous success that begets
a set of notions he sometimes suppressed.

and I am sorry for not understanding why
since I suppose I should certainly know,
of all people. possibly. it’s also probable

that perhaps it doesn’t matter much
because maybe most things don’t
matter much, meaning mondays

will almost always definitely suck.
because come time for monday, a lot
of us, quite frankly, don’t give a fuck.

and then there are those of us that do.
those that yearn; those that learn that
we have to earn the attention of the likes of you.


Photo by Micki Spollen on Unsplash


Mistakes – Idle Thoughts

Mistakes. I make them. You make them. There isn’t a single person that doesn’t make a mistake or two in their life. So why do we punish ourselves for the smallest bit of imperfection? Quitting new things altogether if we can’t catch on quick enough, or when we mess up the way people do when they try something new for the first time: always. There are exceptions to what we fuck up, but it is a rule that we will inevitably embarrass ourselves by botching something. Still, this is how we learn. Through error.

Do you remember being a child learning how to walk? Probably not, but maybe you’ve seen one try. Placing one stubby leg in front of the other, consistently and awkwardly until it falls flat on its ass. Right then and there most of us would give up. I mean obviously, it is stupid in this context. Maybe you’re thinking that you need to walk so, of course, you wouldn’t give up. But hasn’t there been so many other things that you have needed that you just decided to give up on? Maybe it was a person or a job. No, it’s never that. Those are just the means. It was yourself that you gave up on. You and your own happiness.

Don’t try to rationalize it now because you’ve already done that. You have already convinced yourself that happiness isn’t necessarily something you need, or at least it’s not worth fighting for if it isn’t easy. It might sound like I’m preaching, but honestly, these words are for myself. I get so stuck on how something is supposed to happen that I often forget to be grateful for the fact that it has happened at all. The walking? I’ve rationalized that there are people who can’t walk and they seem perfectly fine so maybe I just wasn’t meant to walk. Maybe this goal just wasn’t meant for me to reach.

I do believe there are some goals that we just aren’t meant to grasp because they give us purpose, let me be clear on that. But all of them? Each and every one unobtainable? Preposterous. So what if I can’t play the song without messing up every other note. So what if I don’t get first place in some competition. So what if I fall flat on my ass after trying to walk. If it wasn’t supposed to happen, I wouldn’t be filled with this immense desire to achieve this one goal.

Maybe things don’t always work out. But how would I know that if I wasn’t willing to fall flat on my ass? How many failures away am I from success? How many time have I ever actually failed? It’s all a learning experience anyway. Each time I fell I understood what not to do for the next time. I think as a society we’ve become so interested in the end result that we’ve forgotten just how important the journey is. It’s why I fell in love with learning in the first place. It wasn’t necessarily about the end result, although that was nice. It was about all the things I would discover on my way to some destination. I just have to be willing to get lost. I just have to be willing to fall.


Motivation… – Idle Thoughts

There’s this thing called motivation. Have you seen it? Because I have been looking for it for quite some time now. I hear motivation is a wonderful thing. It creates leaders and innovators, plus I think it would have helped me with that paper that was due last week. I still haven’t done it. I will, once I find the motivation to do so. I’m only joking. It wasn’t a paper I missed, at least not this time. Every week there seems to be something that my body lacks the wherewithal to complete. Homework. Poems. Proposals. Sleep. That last one is strange, but sometimes I even need the motivation to do that.

Thinking about it now, it’s never the major stuff that I need motivation for. It’s always the simple things like getting out of bed in the morning or finding the time for an overdue conversation. It isn’t that I don’t want to do these things, I do. It just never seems like the perfect time to do it. Each morning, I figure seven more minutes of my eyes closed will push my body to that point of being well rested. It never does. It doesn’t matter how many seven-minute increments of meditation I sleep through because my body isn’t the problem. The problem is in my head. The problem is that I want to get up, but getting up just isn’t that important to me.

Actually, that’s not right. To say that would mean getting out of a bad situation just isn’t that important to people. That simply isn’t true. The problem is that I want to get up, but the thought of the obstacles facing me after rising is sometimes enough to keep me down. I mean that in a literal sense, but it applies in all other cases. We need adversity to grow. Without it, life would be utterly boring and all achievements would be unsatisfactory. But simple adversity is not what the average person faces. We live in a world where we amass problems and wear them like badges, shouting to the world that we are human and we suffer too. We just forget to take those badges off. We forget that we are not the badges we wear, and as we continue to accumulate more issues they begin to wear us. And they begin to wear on us. They get to be so massive and so heavy that we don’t know how to function without them.

At some point, we realize we have too many problems that we are holding onto. It is around this time that we realize we are in over our heads, but we are too stubborn to admit that we need help and so we suffer. We become so heavy with the burdens we brandished because they created a sense of unity that we are no longer able to overcome them. At least, the abundance of issues makes us feel that way. It makes me think, “why bother?” Why bother when every achievement has as it’s reward another problem for me to overcome.

I don’t know if this is true or not, but I’ll tell you why I search for my motivation. The reason I bother is because I remember a time before this where I felt happy. Whether it’s possible to get back to that place is another story.


Summer’s upon us

It’s almost summer. Not exactly my favorite season, but it’s the time of year where academia is often set aside in favor of making memories. A precious time that I think we should all spend heeding to the natural process of a typical school calendar. The weather is nicer, nature is in full bloom; there really isn’t anything bad about the summer– save for the excessive heat, the fact that it’s not spring, etc.

But, that’s beside the point. School has been an excuse for me to not do a great deal of things that I’ve a passion for. Writing, for one, has been on a hiatus since last winter. Work, combined with school and the many changes in life that occur around this point in a person’s life, often kept me pretty busy. Whenever I did have time to write, I was either depressed or focused on indulging in some sort of time-wasting activity in exchange for instant gratification. And if any of the previous conditions mentioned happened to be false? Well, for those moments, I don’t really regret the time of writing I lost. I’ve made more friends and acquaintances to become a part of my life narrative. I’ve spent time developing as a person through the diversity of opinions. I’ve spent time sulking, but I’ve also spent time being picked back up by loose words of inspiration others tossed about, unbeknownst to them. I’ve been inspired by a collaboration of moments that I have experienced in the last year. Obviously, we all change, but I’ve seen the changes directly affect some of my writing.

Now that I’m a little older and have a job and some money under my belt, I have less excuses to not do the things that I am passionate about, I’ve no excuse to let words and moments slip by, lost in the trickle of time. I’ve no excuse to let my goals be restricted to the tick and tock of the clock, and I’ll be damned if I let a few of my fears stop me from experiencing the world.

But, I really just wanted to write something at this very moment because I have the chance to do so. Often, I realize, I’ve had the chance to do so many things. Every day I waste previous minutes that could be spent being productive and splashing my mental ink; the task that is desired isn’t always the one that I should be dwelling on, but I’d be a fool to not acknowledge that I’ve let the idea of the future keep me from making it happen right here and right now.

It’s good to be back on the pages.

Until next time.

Astral Adventures: Somber Winters

The temperature is low. It’s cold. Very cold, actually. It isn’t too cold though. Not that it matters. I can’t feel anything. I mean, not like this anyway. Being away from my body and all. I know it’s cold, but I can’t really feel it. Not that the cold even matters anymore. It’s all I know now…. I’ve been wandering the city for a while. Not too sure when I ended up here, or why I’m even here for that matter. As far as I can understand, I’m just a wandering soul and nothing else.

An empty soul looking for something to fill itself with. I’m pathetic, but who even cares? None of it even matters. The snow is beautiful, though. Small flakes of pristine alabaster-like jewels falling from the heavens down upon us. I’m sure it’s nothing but the tears of angels who pity us. Their tears are only enhanced by the lustrous bits of sunlight that have managed to kiss this place we call earth, attempting to warm our hearts so we don’t feel the cold. It is saddening. It’s depressing. The brilliance of the light causes me to realize just how beautiful the somber winter nights really are– not that it matters.

Beauty is pointless. It’s not like anyone really gives a damn about it at all. It’s such a shame. Just the thought fills me to the brim with tears. Heads are to the ground and people are lost in their phones; it’s not so much as the beauty of those around them that distracts people anymore. They just don’t care about anything else. Even as the sun sets, amassing a spectacular load of visual glory just at the horizon, it means nothing to the denizens of earth. Sunset for them translates to _sunglasses off_; it’s just another moment that has passed. A single moment in the vast expanse of the many to come. No one seems to understand that it’s a moment that’s lost forever. The sun may set again, but everyday, it only sets once.

My heart aches. Misery is my indulgence, and I am addicted. It’s beautiful though. Tragedy, that is. In all of your wellness, you take for granted everything: your ability to breath, to walk, to see. Pain helps you to appreciate the small things in life. Pain is what helps you see beauty and realize how fragile things are. In all of my time, those in abundance never realize how lucky they are. Only the faces of the deprived lighten at the sight of the beauty they’ve been denied all of their life.

If deprivation is all it takes, then I hope for many tragedy filled somber winters.

Words Unfiltered: Mental agony

I mean I just don’t know how to handle it. I feel like I’m going to explode under the pressure. How can anybody live like this? Images of destruction fill my mind, and I can’t sleep. I torture myself with thoughts of oblivion, finding myself half-way gone at the most mundane of moments. Suspended in time, realizing I’m nothing but a bout of insignificance floating through meaningless space– I mean, what is even real? How can I know? My heart wants to believe one thing, and my mind isn’t quite sure what to believe. Nothing is logical. I’ve gotten to the point where I realize that everything is pointless, but I can’t think like that.

Just busy yourself in the moment and don’t think. It’s gotten you this far.  I think to myself. It’s all I can do to protect my sanity. The sanity I cling to so dearly. The sanity that I refuse to believe is lost.  I’m trying to protect myself from being broken. In hindsight, things aren’t clear regardless. Maybe I’m broken, maybe I’m not. It’s gotten to a point where I don’t know anything anymore.

When did the sweet solace of solitude became a daily mental agony that I must endure? When I find more comfort in worldly stress and worries than I do in peace, something must have snapped. Or maybe something clicked, and I realized that this tangible world, however fucked up it is, is the world I live in. This world is mine. I see the world through my eyes, and I am afraid to die.

Or maybe it’s death that I crave. I really don’t know anymore. I’m in love. As long as I have a reason, I’ll continue to hold this moment called a life dearly. I’m fearful of all that’s to come, or maybe of the things that have already come to pass. Who knows. Maybe it’s all already happened, and we just haven’t realized it yet. Either way, I’m waiting for something. What exactly? I don’t know. The brief moments of happiness are worth living for.

A lifetime of pain and suffering in exchange for the brief time that we actually can enjoy our lives. I suppose that’s all life really is. A chance to smile. A chance that you wouldn’t have otherwise. I’m certain that I am alive, but I really can’t be certain of anything. I guess it’s the uncertainty that terrifies me. Even still, with uncertainty comes hope. Maybe the thing I desire to know won’t have the answer that brings comfort. With certainty, I may be screwed. But, everything is uncertain.

Anything can happen. Things will happen, and I guess that’s the beauty of life.

Until tomorrow, or next time, whichever comes first.

Guest Poem; Elixir by: Eneale Pickett.

Elixir is a poem by the young up and coming black poet Eneale Picket. I went to high school with him, and poetry is his life. Specializing in spoken word, Eneale writes pieces mainly about black youth and the environment that he grew up in. All of his poetry is inspired by the things he’s seen in life. If you would like to get in contact with him, you can find
him on Facebook at I hope you enjoy his spoken word piece.

Dear God,
my eyes are becoming as color saturated as Satan’s skin
who needs friends when you got Jack Daniels as kin.
Some say my life isn’t as vital,
so let me down this moonshine while I impregnate my mind with lead
I wonder if anyone is going to notice I’m dead.
Probably not, I’m just a bum who’s just collapsed
On what appears to be my last meal,
I got uppers, I got downers, I got plenty of access to thrills
I hope my mind reaches homeostasis,
so I can know which voices and faces are real
I’m so beloved by my demons, I might die tonight
From the joy that kills.

Dear God,
I keep on
In and out of love with you
I never loved someone
The way that I love you

How am I supposed to escape the devil’s trenches
while he’s standing there waiting for me on every corner,
enticing me with beautiful woman such as Chardonnay and corona
I have been for about a week now, so I have encountered plenty personas.
One of my favorites was this girl Glen,
I had the privilege to indulge in her skin
it tasted so much like habitual sin
one of my daily rituals I too often find myself partaking in.
But when my soul yearns to be loved
her arms are as welcoming as the sun is on colored flesh,
as I lay my head down to go sleep, I pray you keep
the devil from attaining my last breath.

Dear God,
I keep on
In and out of love with you
I never loved someone
The way that I love you

I remember that time I almost saw your face,
I inhaled some of Satan’s landscapes
laced with bone fragments from fallen angels
and I could have sworn, I was within reach
of touching the golden studded streets,
Until I awaken in a dull room
with a strong stench of bleach and I knew,
the devil was trying to collect my already condemned soul
that I sold for two loaves of bread and a bottle of whiskey
no I mean a night with Cindy,
what better thing to have during those nights
when the rain wishes to taste your skin
than a woman’s chest up against your chest.

Dear God,
I keep on
In and out of love with you
I never loved someone
The way that I love you