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My definition of home has evolved over time. Home was New York, plain and simple. There was no other place like it for me. There was only one New York – always imitated but never duplicated. I know that many New Yorkers feel the same way. Our hometown pride is the reason that we’re called […]…
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Someone said to me, It is so bad for your heart But good for your art
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I could have sworn that you were broken. I never thought that I would be the one to break you. But I give myself too much credit. And you never enough.
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“Titles are easy but content is difficult.” I find myself repeating this phrase to myself every time I want to write something here. WordPress used to be my safe haven on the Internet. It was a place where I could truly express myself without the fear of judgment from my peers. My use of the…
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I hate you. Plain and simple, isn’t it? No, because nothing is ever plain or simple. This deeply rooted hate stems from a place of even greater love. A love that was ruined by a revelation. A revelation that involved an adulterous affair and a child born out of wedlock. The signs were there all…
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We haven’t spoken in a while. Yet every time we speak it’s the same conversation. I miss you. I miss you too. Are we going to meet up soon? Definitely. And then the conversation goes cold. When do we stop fooling ourselves? There’s no point in chasing phantoms, only to trip on memories.
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Old lovers crawling out of the wasteland that is my memory. They have no right occupying space in my head anymore. Exile is best suited for them. And yet, I feel a subtle twinge of sadness. Feelings never really faded, only put in stasis.
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Once trust is broken, it’s gone forever. I’m not really sorry, am I? It’s more like I’m sorry for myself. The repentant liar. Hoping that my penance will save me from damnation. (written May 14th, 2016)
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It’s a family affair. Welcome to the breakdown of consciousness. Too emotional. Not emotional enough. Ricochet from one extreme to the next. No middle ground. But caught in this in-between of two extremes. Where nothing and everything collide. The void never looked so good. (written May 7th, 2016)
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Running away never solved any problems. Then again, I was never one to confront them. It’s all I had. It’s who I was. Was. Past Tense. Who I am now is still being written. It’s not about the alignment of the stars Or three women with sewing needles and thread. It’s not being dictated by…
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Trapped In The Margins 