God Bless America, but smite me, for living is a sin. For now, I’m just a first world problem.

It’s comforting to know that people worry about you. Don’t leave them worrying.

Five poems that reveal why my social circle has shrunk and become stagnant in growth.

Midnight tidings, not tollings/ even when I’m tired, my brain keeps holding/ awake, afraid to sleep/ if I do, do I get my soul to keep?/or am I lost to the void/ like a dream lost to Styx?

Fuvking up my life, it’s an ugly timeline, but it’s all I have that’s mine.

"I’m fucking up my life and I know it..." -morning light, thebreathingbackwards

I entered a fake relationship a while ago for kicks. I wanted to see how manipulative I could be. But I forgot that love always plays me.

I have February Fever. How bout you? Also, the story about the girl I screwed over... she returned the favor, and like all great artists before me I’m going to send it back in my medium.

I’m suddenly a self-help guru. As growing humans, we have problems; let’s address them.

I’ve been gone awhile (again), but while I’ve been gone I’ve written poems documenting what’s been going on lately. My headspace has kinda been in a black hole. Thankfully, I’m back where I’m supposed to be: lost in orbit. But, hey, I got some crazy stories to share. Keep ya posted 😉