Paris is a dreamĀ 

take me to Paris

so i can butcher beautiful words and mimic foreign accents

and drink incredibly expensive coffee

and pretend i like tea at 3 in the afternoon.

i will walk around while simultaneously falling in love with the romance language subliminally spoken 

all around.

take me to Paris

so that i can take in the overwhelming scent of

freshly printed poems and bakery goods and cry because 

this city,

is truly,

alive.

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Poem Inspired By Inaugaration Day: “In spite of it all;”Ā 

Cries for help 

Are muffled by the hands 

Of those that 

Sit on the titling and vulnerable axis of the earth.

And they only

Bend down,

Arms outstretched in selfish ambition,

To collect the shiny, useless things they crave and devour.

Possessive;

Take what’s yours to take.

The people will suffer but,

Oh,

If you were to spend a day, week–

God forbid! A month…

In their bottomless, worn out shoes,

You would crumble.

Because you are made of straw.

The dirt of this earth, the essence of essential and the basis of our foundation,

Stack them all real high,

Apply some pressure,

And you get steel and brick,

Strong enough to weigh down that paper house of yours.

Shut them up,

But listen closely

To the chains snapping and falling, quite surely,

To the ground.

In spite of it all; watch them fall. 

Lost PiecesĀ 

The worst part about losing yourself is not the process in which you dress yourself in all matters of darkness and go to foreign places that beckon the other side of you…

No, it’s the constant thought of:

“Will I ever get those pieces back?”

Open Road šŸŒŒ

If I could, I’d drive a long stretch of the highway and keep driving until something caught my attention. In the car would be music that thumps in my chest and spills lyrics on my tongue. I’d turn on a slow jam just as the sun begins to set. I would draw out that moment and breath the crisp air of the birthing night. Windows down, hollow sounds. Once night drapes it’s arms around the sky, the music would reflect darkening excitement. Music and open road. No thoughts of home or destination. Just the rumbling of the base and the overflow of words that mean all too much to me. 

Spilling SunĀ 

it’s a thousand rays of sunshine blissfully laying on my skin, sparkling and warming the sea and gracefully dancing on the shore.

my smile is somehow illuminated by the orange waves,

becoming something like a ripple in the ocean.

all I can see is light, all I can breathe is peaceful bits of euphoria.