In Philadelphia’s streets, where memories flow,
I think of you, Grandpa, and the times we used to know.
With chocolate sodas in hand, we’d stroll along,
Sharing stories and laughter, where we both belonged.

Hershey’s in Coca-Cola, your sweet treat of choice,
Echoes of your laughter, still ring in my voice.
Though distance kept us apart for much of the way,
The few times we met are treasures I replay.

Your wisdom and kindness, though glimpsed from afar,
Left a mark on my heart, like a guiding star.
I miss you dearly, but your love will stay,
In my heart, forever, guiding my way.

Knees rug-burnt on the carpet
praying for freedom one day
in your high school body
and your high school face
caked with wet mascara
searching for someplace
that is home
but where is home?
Will you ever know what that is?
You don’t belong here
so you thought:
“I belong nowhere.”
No wine to quench
how parched you are
for acceptance
so hungry
for independence
you thought you were praying to god
but you were praying to me.
As the creator of your destiny—
how rich you life will be.
In your woman body
with your woman face
my god
my force
how gorgeous is your vessel now
to grow into your soul
reaching up into the sky
like redwoods, sycamores—
ever-growing so divine.
Embrace your unbelonging
so much, that you’ll belong
to everyone and
everywhere like
wind and air and water
and I heard your sobs of yearning
egg-shaped on the floor
begging for some glimmer
some proof that there is more
but you need this storm
to crack you open
you need this pain
you need disaster
so you can bring those shards together.
The pointy pieces hurt, I know
like countless shrapnel splinters
but bit by bit
you’ll dig them out
and fill the wounds with earth…
when harvest comes,
you’ll be so humbled
by how much it was worth
and instead of praying
to a man-made god
for the shackles to release—
the world folds with all your thanks
as you bring it to its knees.

I invented a new season for life because I got tired of the winter spring summer fall pattern
My paisley doesn’t like to conform to the depression of polka dots only on the pocket square and not the entire outfit
Where’s the art in the plain white t?
I see the aesthetic, but I want the screaming art to argue with my calm voice
It’s the beauty in the pain that you can’t see until the scars have enough time to grow wings
I used to feel most at peace listening to music on my bed as a haunting sleep would close my eyes
I used to feel most at peace under the dim lights of cinema pumping hope into my veins where I had blood run free
I used to feel most at peace on the solidarity of solo ventures between the court and I
It would hum deathly echoes like lullaby’s to my heart
This trinity became my medical addiction as pride got in the way of God
Then over the years my coffee finally became cold, and I missed the warmth of summer
I could smell my own toxicity deeply rooted and swallowing my faith
So, I questioned myself through the tears, I marked the points of pain with my pen, and dug up the weeds I planted and reaped
This time I will sow truth within the uncomfortable moments
Because in this season until forever I’m most at peace on the grounds of the earthquake
Knowing that I can’t move forward unless I shake things up
Staying in a comfortable pattern only leads to a broken record repeating the line you hate to hear
You are meant to break records
p.s. peace is born in the growth of pain…

I’m currently 13 and the only thing that makes sense is sadness
So, to cope I like to hear melodies caress my ears because I’m too damaged to hug myself
Then I’ll let my pen tell stories of love and horror for the simple fact that I’m afraid to love myself away from depression
I get the impression that an early death is the only way to escape to peace
But I’m afraid so for the time being I’ll clean my room since I can’t find the energy to organize my life
I just found an extra cassette tape in my music collection next to the pile of CD’s and Records
Complementing the art hanging on the wall adjacent to my mood
I think to myself: curiosity let’s have a conversation where you tell me all the secrets Victoria victories made me hate
The tape starts with no words
The opening scene let’s nature sing before the score interrupts
Then some old guy starts speaking about life like he knows me, I’m in no mood for a lecture but I have time today
After all I was just thinking about ending it all, how could this hurt more
He says: There’s a wealth beyond financial peace within the things we blink past every 24 hours
Try not to take for granted the natural order of life around you
I know the stress will have you crying rivers on the inside that you never let water your cheeks
But you need to face your fears, or the dam will explode
You need to Yoga flex your way through the challenges less flexibility become a weakness
Not your strength; muscles are for show, but the morality of your core can lift you past anything if you water your flowers of dread
“Be like water my friend,” and if I’m being bru-tal-ly honest you lie to yourself too much
Fright has kept you in third place longer than you should have been
Unable to reach the heights you are meant for
Remember the natural order of things, but know a long list keeps your further from progress than small steps of truth
You’re 34 now and just entering your prime
The next decade will be the soundtrack to the whole of your life
The season from the age of 13-32 was just a small slice
My teenage brain begins to become bored and 34 is forever away
And right before I was about to stop the tape he said something that made me think, maybe he knows a little something:
“You are the most coveted rose”… you see I love the floral print of life
And this statement was the first time outside of my parents that I felt worthy
He then went on to say
You’re beautiful in full bloom but still walk like a sunflower with its head down
It’s ok to be a lazy daisy sometimes but remember the sun never stops smiling and the moon never stops dreaming
So, neither should you
Your tulip words are meant to be heard by the world
And one day they will, as sure as a daffodil
Will blow it’s horn of victory past everything that has held you back
Just keep fighting and I promise you will win
p.s. don’t be afraid to cry…

Don’t worry little one, this will all be forgiven and forgotten I know you’re going through a lot right now and I pray that you make it through this with open eyes And a keen sense. You are on your own now
nothing more, nothing less. My information is true
and I know what you’re going to do. I know because I’m you. Don’t listen to any negativity from any one and always be yourself! I know it’s rough but it’ll get better I hope you find solace in this letter.

In his arms, the world aligns just right,
A place where heartbeats synchronize in the quiet night.
The hustle fades, the stress melts away,
In his arms, it’s easier to face the day.

Under open skies or beneath the city lights,
His embrace cuts through the coldest nights.
A gentle strength, a quiet might,
With him, even the darkest moments become light.

Time softens its relentless march,
In his arms, there’s no need to guard my heart.
A soft touch, a steady hand,
In his hold, I truly understand.

Each worry lifts, each fear retreats,
In his arms, life feels complete.
He’s the calm when life gets tough,
In his arms, I have more than enough.

No place else I’d rather be,
Than here with him, where I’m free to be me.
All that’s gentle, all that’s warm,
I find right here, safely wrapped in his arms.

In the vast silence where words once failed,
Among shadows where fears prevailed,
You, so young with steps unsure,
A silent fighter, pure and demure.

Born into a world unkind, you struggled to find your voice,
A journey not chosen, but imposed without a choice.
Nonverbal, delayed, they labeled you, placing limits they saw fit,
But even without words, your spirit refused to quit.

Taunted and teased, a playground’s cruel jest,
The bullies and mockers putting courage to the test.
Harsh boundaries crossed, a young heart betrayed,
In those silent battles, your resilience was displayed.

From the depths of these trials, your mission took root,
A desire to shield others from the oppressor’s boot.
With every tear shed, a resolve grew within,
To fight for those silenced, a war you could win.

Now, your voice is finding its mighty roar,
Speaking out for justice, opening new doors.
Each injustice you faced fuels your fervent plea,
Advocating for change, setting the silenced free.

The pain once endured now powers your cause,
Championing rights without a pause.
With each step forward, you reclaim your might,
Turning darkness encountered into future bright.

So march on, unbroken, with your head held high,
Proud of the battles fought, under life’s gray sky.
Creating a world kinder, just, and true,
From the ashes of your past, the best of you anew.

With courage and love, stronger than ever before,
Your journey from silence has opened the door.
You’re not just surviving; you are setting the pace,
For a world that sees all, beyond any disability’s trace.

With love and pride,
Your older self, unbroken and proud.

I bleed rainbows and cry stars

I find community in bars

I was sorrow, I was sin

I denied myself to win

I was lonely and unsure

But no longer immature

I am love and I am strong

I am fearless in my song

I don’t care what others think

And I’ll raise another drink

To brave souls that came before

And blew the locks upon the doors

I am free and I run wild

Like the art made by a child

No remorse and no regret

What you see is what you get

Walk with me and feel my pride

And you will enjoy the ride

Of vibrant life and color burst

Without hunger, without thirst

I am technicolor smile

It just took me but a while

Now I am “alternative”

Let me love and let me live