I love the weird and off kilter…that goes for material things and people.

I’m immediately drawn in to random unexpectedness. Every time I encounter it I feel like i’m in the presence of something truly authentic and remarkable.

More often then not those things i admire and try to surround myself with, are the subjects of pain, inflicted by so many wrong things that are a part of societies suffocating quilt. Its amazing what pressure and pain can do…what it can create— only if it doesn’t destroy.

Beautiful things don’t break
They shatter

Like a mirror
once whole,
Now defines life
In a myriad
Of complex shards

Pick up the
Sharp edges
And slice
Your tender skin

Only if you grab and grasp too

With consideration
Scoop them up

Not using the direct rudeness
Of fingertips and force

But the gentle sweep and brush
Of the palm


Beautiful things can hurt
They can wound and
Bleed you
If you don’t notice
Their magnificence hides
Razor blades

But only the fools
Are fooled

And only Beautiful things are
Truly wild

Untamed by natures definition
Driven by the true nature


The wildness of being
Is to live and love
With deliberate abandon

Only, Beautiful things
Aren’t beautiful at all
But true manifestations
Of the soul

Scarred and bent
With missing limbs
And indentations
Where the social constructs
Pinch too tight

You cannot keep a beautiful thing
Its ephemeral
And eternal
But never yours