We are eternities; muses.

We are eternity’s muses.


Inspired by: @alexandrajoli_


My 3:04 AM Dilemma.

I have music in my head that I don’t know how to play.

And I see colors in my dreams that I don’t know how to paint when I wake up.

I see shapes that I can barely sketch, and numbers that would take me far too long to calculate with my TI-83 from high school, so it feels like my hands are tied.

The closest I can come to expressing it is writing words that explain the way that they make me feel. I’m fairly good at that, but only describing the emotions behind what I’m actually seeing and hearing is limiting. Even though, I can write vividly and I’m masterful with imagery——I wish you could see it for yourself.

I wish I could offer guided tours into my mind.

But I’m always in here alone.

Maybe it’s best that way.

Thank You

Thank you for lifting my soul each time I wasn’t strong enough to lift it on my own.

Thank you for being divine when my humanity kept me from breathing.

Your mahogany pigment, sweet aroma and magnetic consciousness won’t let me leave you alone.

Thank you.

For touching the core of me with such little effort.

I love you, deeply.

And you love me the same.

Maybe more.

I look forward to finding out who you are.


Tell me where you are right now,

I promise I’ll hop on the first thought smoking,

Out of this solar system,

Past those constellations that tease me,

Where we first met,

I think I remember the way,

But if you could just sing to my heart again so that it jogs my memory,

And so that I don’t get lost while I find my way for the millionth time,

Back to you,

Back to us,

Back to God,




I’ve spent the last few evenings trying to understand whether or not you’re real.

Because, if you’re not then I need this cruel joke of a pleasant dream to end as soon as possible.

The oceanic depths of my own heart are too scary for me to explore without someone to come with me.

I’ve never been down there.

And I’m really afraid to let you come, even if you asked.

It could either be euphoric, or horrific.

Massively extravagant, or cold and murky—like caves that have long been abandoned by summertime kisses from a star that happens to be kind enough to allow us all to feel its tangible presence on a daily basis.

The closer you come, the faster I want to run away from you.

You remind me of everything that I don’t think I’ve even experienced yet.

I can’t run from you.

Because, I can’t run from me.

for both of us

late evenings transform themselves,

into early mornings without me noticing,

like vapors of water taking flight into heaven,

and leaving me here alone,


wondering if the hands that crafted the souls of men,

will speak to you on my behalf,

and tell you that my intentions are good,

and desires are pure,

and interest is peaked,

but that i’m also afraid—

afraid that you could be it for me,

and that if that’s true,

then i’m already frightened of losing what i don’t technically,

have just yet in a manifested sense,

but truthfully—we’ve belonged to one another, forever—

i recognize that i deserve you,

i’m just aware that i’m not ready for you,

and i guess i’m a little nervous that you’ll recognize it too,

no; you didn’t arrive too early,

i just didn’t prepare properly while men slept,

and ants worked—according to the wise parable,

so please don’t be angry with me,

for condensing the last 3 decades into 12 months,

and please stay,

your patience is far too much for me to ask of you,

but i’m asking,

and praying that He tells you that i’m worth the unfairness,

of my request—

please stay,

please, please stay,

for both of us.

i saw a sketch

last night i saw a sketch,

it was a woman,

and her womb consisted of stars and planets,

i was humbled,

by the artistry itself as well as the concept,

this woman,

was exactly what she depicted,

a bright and shimmering idea in the mental womb of the woman who thought to sketch her,

and we are no different,

all of us—with worlds and galaxies swirling, churning and burning within our minds and souls,

eternity after eternity,

brightly piercing the silence and darkness within our bowels,

our wombs,






within us,

daring us to release it every moment,

pleading with us to allow it a brief glimpse into the world of open eyes and weary hearts,

promising to devour and consume us from the inside out if we dare believe that a single sun would not envelope and purge us into nothingness if we were to ever get too close,

yet, we contain billions of them,

deep inside,

do you feel them?

let them out,