you like the idea
of feeling
too much,
of experiencing
too much
and letting the things
inside you
float away.
I think
you want people
to notice you
but want others
to think that
isolation pumps through
your veins.
I think
you care
too much
but you pretend
as if
nothing bothers you.
I think
you want people
to miss you
but only
the right ones.
I think
you like breaking
apart
but only because
you know by morning
you’ll be
yourself again.
I think
you like being chased
because you want
to be saved
and loved
with the same intensity
an earthquake
would bring.
I think
you want the world
to remember you
but you don’t have
the slightest clue
on becoming memorable.
I think
you want delicate hands
to surf over
your skin
but you think
you’re too hard
for soft hands.
I think
of all these things
and it couldn’t be
more true,
that like me,
you just need someone
to catch you
and tell you
how much they know you—
to reveal
little things about you,
that you
yourself ignore.
I think
the star in you
wants to give light
to other people
and I think
I need it
to help me
find my way.
And, like you,
I think
and feel these things
deeply . . .
and I know we need
each other . . .
if ever,
we think
we want
a proper shot
at love.
STORIES
I know
there are
two sides
to the world—
two stories.
One good
and one bad,
and
you shouldn’t ignore
the bad.
You should know it
but don’t fall into it.
The world is beautiful,
life is beautiful,
and hatred shouldn’t be
carried.
So please go on
gently
and always remember
to let all things
that weigh you down
go.
TOO MUCH OF ANYTHING IS BAD
Too much war.
Too much slavery.
Too much famine.
Too much death.
Too much suffering.
Too much pain.
Too much nothingness.
All around,
filling the room.
Too much laughter.
Too much peace.
Too much comfort.
Too much togetherness.
Too much love.
Too much life.
Too much passion.
People, moments, and life
will show you
how too much
of anything can be dangerous.
They will make you
either
feel more or less.
The beautiful gift
and curse of being human,
to give and to take away.
To build or destroy.
The same way people,
both men and women,
dead or alive,
have gone through
and/or will go through
too much of too much.
Too much emptiness.
Too much confusion.
Too much to hold.
Too much to let go.
You won’t be
the same person
after you’ve seen
what you’re meant
to see . . .
and how could you?
The world is both
light and dark
and only those
with their eyes open
see
and find their way.
It is both
a curse and a blessing
to feel things
so deeply
and too much of anything
will always be
too much
for you to bear.
Always.
SORROW RISES
The heart
is sometimes
a liar,
for at times,
it promises happiness
but too often,
it leaves you
alone
with nothing more
than sorrow.
What a terrible monster
to feed.
It wants and wants and wants
and almost always,
does it leave you
empty-handed
with nothing left
to hold.
A GIRL I ONCE KNEW
She had tragic eyes—
sad eyes
as if she had seen
too much
or had too many stars
die
within the edge
of her pupils.
Large, faraway eyes,
as if
all the things
she had lived through
meant nothing
without the people
she loved.
Without a word
she speaks
and tells me
all the things
I need to hear,
the things
I need
to ease the pain
a little.
With a few blinks
she calms my storms,
the mad wolves
rioting inside of my brain,
the ones who feed off
my heart,
courage,
and inspiration.
Her eyes wander,
they take the whole
goddamn feeling,
the whole
goddamn moment . . .
as if
she drank the ocean
within my beating chest,
and now
I’m lost at sea.
My life is nothing,
this is what I tell
my comrades.
That without her
I’m just another fool
searching for the pieces
that may
or may not
complete me.
Those eyes,
beautiful and lost.
Those eyes,
piercing and soft.
Those eyes,
sane and mad.
Like the gentle doubt
I carry
throughout my life.
I’m a fool,
I say,
and like the fool
that I am,
I follow
and I walk
toward her darkness—
where all the dying stars
end up.
Where the light
can’t escape
and where all
the lost people go
to be found.
Those eyes,
beautiful and lost.
Those eyes,
piercing and soft.
Those eyes,
sane and mad.
And with one look
I am lost . . .
forever.
LETTER TO MY DAUGHTER
Listen to the way
life slowly walks
out of her body.
If there is any kind
of music
to be appreciated,
then it is there,
between the beats
of her heart
and the quiet exhale
of her breath.
So please,
love her
and love her well.
She is not meant
to live forever
but the idea
is to make her feel
as if
she is the center
of the universe . . .
every single day.
Amen.
ALWAYS IN ME
Always in me,
there is a moon
and some nights
it lights my sky,
while other nights
it emphasizes
my brokenness.
Always in me,
there is a star
and some nights
it caves within itself,
while other nights
it expands
to devour other worlds.
Always in me,
there is an ocean
and sometimes
it’s calm,
while other nights
it drowns the people
I love.
Always in me,
there is a garden
of flowers
and some nights
it blooms,
while other nights
it grants me strength
over my weaknesses.
Always in me,
there is a thunderstorm
and some nights
it understands me,
while other nights
it takes my breath away.
Always in me,
there is a great sadness
and some nights
it hurts,
while other nights
it is silenced
by laughter.
Always in me,
there are sides of you
and some nights
you don’t have me,
while other nights
I can’t escape
what you’ve done.
Always in me,
there are maps
and some nights
I wander away,
while other nights
they lead me straight
to you.
Always in me,
stay with me,
for some nights
are better than others
and other nights
stay the same as before.
Always in me,
stay with me,
for some nights
people see you
for who you are,
while other nights
they see themselves
in the things
they want to see.
Always in me,
stay with me,
and never leave my side,
for some nights
I am yours,
while other nights
you are mine.
Stay with me.
Always in me.
Always with me.
Always
by my side.
TOO MUCH DARKNESS
Sometimes,
I feel
like I have too much
to offer.
Too much light
and too much darkness.
Too much repetitiveness
and too much contradiction.
Too much love
and too little
time to explore it.
Too much heart
and too much inspiration
to change that look
in your eyes.
Too much flame
and too much passion
to control.
I feel the people.
I feel the pain.
I feel the breath
of the ocean in me.
And because of it
I carry too much
of too much
for my own good.
I am still,
and the weight of it all
is beautiful.
And sometimes,
among all things,
I feel like
a dying star.
Like I am
collapsing within myself,
devouring every planet,
every person,
and every moment
I . . .
have ever known.
TWO SIDES
There are two sides
of me . . .
for example,
one side of me knows
what to do,
while the other side
of me doesn’t.
So there are days
when I do
but then
there are days
when I want to go
as far as possible.
And I don’t know
which side of me
works best with you,
in fact,
I don’t know at all
but
I do know one thing.
Both sides of me think of you
all the time
and they miss you
whenever
you’re not around.
OBEY OBEY OBEY
Obey what you feel
and know
that your heart will
always lead you
in the right direction.
Put your trust
in the atoms
inside of you.
Believe in them,
know them . . .
they are connected
for a reason
after all.
FAME IS DEAD
Fame.
What is fame?
The knowing?
The recognition?
Is fame power?
True power?
Why do people fight for it?
Why do people
crave being accepted,
appreciated,
and loved by many?
I never understood this
and to be honest,
I’m not sure
how anyone could even
want this type of commitment.
Fame.
Please no thank you.
I like myself.
I like where I am.
I like the fact
that I am unknown
although,
my work has been shared
by millions.
Choice.
It is my choice.
However I want to proceed
or not
is ultimately my decision.
It’s up to me,
up to you.
I want to stay in the shadows.
I want to stay
where all things that go
ignored remain
where they do go die . . .
but be in the light
just enough
to be remembered.
Not in present
but in the past.
I want people to say,
“Hey I remember him.
His books were great;
they inspired me.”
That’s all I really want.
I want the eight-year-old kid
to pick up my book
and start writing,
because of me.
To me,
that is more important
than fame.
It is legendary
to inspire someone
to be more.
To believe in themselves . . .
the same way I have
in myself.
I want to be a champion
of the underdog.
Of the nine-to-fivers.
The ones who are trying
to break through
and make something out
of themselves.
I want to be a champion
to the ones
who believe people
can change
once they believe to accept
how easy it is to do so.
I want to represent
the ones
who are near the finish line
but for some reason
they finish second
instead of first.
They are still winners
for not giving up.
So fame,
is it needed to succeed?
Is being popular the answer?
No, it’s not.
It’s a distraction.
It’s an illusion
and it pulls you away
from what really matters.
So to say
that I want to be famous
is completely irrelevant.
For one,
I don’t like being filmed.
I don’t like being photographed.
I tried it
and didn’t like it.
So why should I do
something I don’t want to?
That’s not love.
That’s not self-righteous.
To sell yourself
to sell more books?
I still remind myself
to find myself,
although millions of people
follow what it is
I stand for.
The truth is,
I still don’t know who I am