This Is Ape Shit

You know, no one ever tells you

that losing control is hard work,

It’s not something you can just do

Because the results can be catastrophic.

Losing control takes a certain skill

To know when it’s okay to let go

Without fucking up your entire life.

But see, that’s not really losing control

When you premeditate WHEN to lose it.

My sister always tells me to loosen up, live a little,

To loosen the bridle once in a while.

To her I ask:

Woman, when is this ‘while’ you speak of?

And where can I find it?

If I find it and don’t stumble across it,

Does it still count as letting go?

Since I went seeking for it?

Does going ape shit count as losing control?


Like I said losing control is hard work,

(Partially probably because I don’t know what it MEANS exactly)

Even my self control, which has been putting in 24 hours a day

Everyday- religiously, thinks so.



It’s almost in my grasp,

The end goal,

Something that I wanted

And didn’t even know.


I clench my fist tighter

Hold onto the dream

That I want so bad

But the tighter I hold,

The quicker it starts to slip.


How is it that

what we want the most

is the thing that’s

the hardest to attain.


Does wanting something

Make it harder to get

Or does the challenge

Make you want it

In the first place?




My life has been a blur lately
With emotions and changes
Happening at the blink
Of an eye
Or two.

I see the past months
Like a fleeting bird
One I saw
But can’t seem to remember
All the details.

Is this what it feels like?
To grow up?
To have so many things happen
That you forget
What to remember?

I want to pause time
For a moment
Or two
Or three
And take in everything,
In slow motion.

But then, I fear
What if everything
Is too many things
To bear
For one single mind.

So I lay here
And breathe in and out
And before I know it
Another day has gone.
A blur joining the other blurs
That my life has been cultivating lately.


Shall I?

Shall I write an ode
To the snow that glistens
Just beyond my window?

Shall I praise its beauty
Before it is marred
By human interference.

Shall I talk about its glow
The way it shimmers
As it falls lazily.

Shall I talk about its tenacity
Its veracity
Its power?

Shall I write?
Or shall I experience?
As it falls
All around me,
A blanket of cold
That wraps me
In its embrace.



If you are going to fly out of the chicken coop, you will definitely ruffle some feathers. But hear not the feathers that are ruffled!  Hear the cluck cluck of approval that ensues from those who know and believe in you. Eventually the feather ruffling will stop…or they will fall off from all that constant movement. It’s not like you will be there to hear it anyways, you coop flyer you.