This is not just a love poem,
it is a philia poem,
for my father’s brother’s oldest son,
separated by a thousand miles
and 18 trips around the sun.
older than me by exactly 37 days,
we’re both growing into adulthood
and both graduating this May.
Essentially, this philia has been denied
throughout his childhood and mine,
because in 18 years we’ve met 5 times,
twice when we were too young to remember,
once a few years ago at his house in Indiana,
and twice last year, in August and December.
No one ever talks about “cousinly love,”
but it really sucks to know that
all this time there's been someone,
someone one in the same as you
literally made from my line of flesh and blood
that I never even knew.

And yes, your feelings of storge shift between
Starbucks and the Miami Dolphins
(and you’re wrong, since the Patriots beat them 35-14),
but our agápe lies in the same place,
a promise of heaven passed down from our fathers
and the acknowledgement of a God transcending time and space.
We both know eros in the bodies of women,
and I was surprised you were fine
with this secret that came out at 2 am.

Grandma went to bed at midnight,
and we filled the gap between 12:01 and 4:23
rearranging every plant and photograph in sight,
silence swelling with our hopes and fears,
and a small “fuck you” (which we both knew not to say in front of the rest of the family)
for separating us for 18 years.
And we woke up in the living room the next day,
(you got the couch and I ended up on the floor),
I swear I heard you pray
“God, please let us stay like this forever”
because for once in your life you met
someone with your ambition to endeavor
into revolution and social change, but who is clinging
tightly to the melodies and rhythms
that our ancestors have been loudly singing.
Maybe they knew we’d be too strong a force--
“engineerboy and dreamergirl,” a dynamic duo--
they were right, because we once we learned that we can change course,
in the distance, a banner unfurled
through branches of our family tree
to read “Ben and Emily take the world.” 


we wrote stories in the sand
and sang songs to the ocean as
she crashed over us
first lapping at our toes but slowly inching up
over our heels and onto our calves and over the knees
until finally engulfing our minds--
oh god how beautiful it is to let the mind go--
that flame which breathes
heavily at midnight as it chases after promises
broken by all of the cosmic dynamos
that flurry by at the speed of light
and shriek a kind of holy fanfare which
ignite the will to go on and
create idealistic worlds where we all
chase after the sun within our own little
universes and decide to catch whatever it is that we dream

//

After a little hiatus from blogging/YouTubing/Instagram-ing/doing anything the least bit creative or enjoyable, I am happy to say that I am making my comeback right here, right now (with some really bad poetry written at 12 am.)

 Tonight was really one of those nights when all of the stresses of life seemed to just drip away from my soul. I went to the beach with some friends (whom I have not seen in quite a while due to college). Familiar faces and laughter, the pink sunset, the cool breeze, and the icy cold water which seemed cleansed both my body and my very soul, helped soothe me in ways that I cannot even explain. For months, I have felt so trapped in my present reality. All I could think of was school. And finishing school. And grades and finals and SAT scores and colleges and my depleting motivation--

I didn't have the time, energy, or necessary sources of inspiration, to do anything else, no matter how much I wanted to. I have so many ideas and so many things I want to share, but didn't know how to go about doing them or where to begin. I felt confined. //

Thankfully yesterday was my last day of exams, and today I was able to go out and just feel the "real world" for the first time in a while. Even doing something simple, like going to the beach, revealed so many secrets and beautiful things that the Earth has to offer. This life never ceases to amaze me, and I never want to lose that. I never want to become so overwhelmed with work that I forget to look around at people, places, and things that actually make the world beautiful. Because it really is these things which motivate me to be creative and artistic and to make my life the kind of beautiful that I want it to be.


I'm so looking forward to summertime, because to me it symbolizes this promise of adventure, and also a sense of freedom. I talked today about trying some new things (like, surfing. which would be really cool), and I'm honestly just looking forward to what this year brings. For the first time in a while, I'm excited about things, and I feel motivated to continue to create.

I encourage you to take the time to just sit, and listen to the rain, or the wind, or waves of the ocean, and look at leaves or shells or the patterns within rocks, and just admire all of the artistry that God put into his creations. There are so many beautiful things in the world and some of your best inspiration will come from going back to the basics, and feeling it all at once, in one shocking wave. //

*this is only from my own personal experience. if you have a different experience that you'd like to share, feel free! communicating about these things is a great way to feel a little less alone.



1.) You can't make plans in advance because you never know if you're going to want to go out that day or not.

2.) If you do make plans in advance, you are excited for them when you make them, but when the day of the event actually comes around, you'd rather crawl into a hole and die.

Dear Girl,

You don't need anyone to make you a "complete" person. You are an individual being; you are a living and breathing creature, and you were put onto this earth with all of the tools necessary to survive, and more. You can be as free and independent as you want to be. A man will not make you any more of a human being than you are as yourself. Having a child will not make you any more of a woman than you naturally are. You are more unique than a butterfly's wings, and freer than a birds wings can take them.

coats fall on bare ground,
spirits but falsely rise, for
winter's not yet end