Running Inward

Trust is all about running inward.


When it’s the end of the world

and the monsters come to eat you alive,

do you run away–

back to the solitary life that is survival

where the only thing between you

and the madness

is your feet?

Or do you run inward?

Into the haven, the quarantine,

where others as broken as you stand to lend a hand?

It seems simple enough…

But running inward can hurt you, too.

The people within those walls, they can also eat you alive,

or you can eat them,

with the demons you’ve been carrying inside you

since the fight began.

Do you risk a new type of pain,

a new type of sorrow,

for the chance to not only survive,

but live?


Love is all about running inward.


When my mind was falling over pebbles, and my voice shook,

your hands were the first thing I grabbed for

and your eyes told me that you’d never seen me so afraid.

But I didn’t care,

because I was finally tired

of running away,

and just letting my demons eat me alone.

“You can’t fix me,” I said,

“I’ve fought monster with powers beyond time and space.”

“But I can help,” you said,

and you let me hold your hands

until the thundering ceased.


And never had life felt so simple.


366 Poems: December 28th, 2016

Old Words

I wish for the words of another age

when my mind was less preoccupied,

when I couldn’t create in other ways,

and from the paper, my pen would never stray.

But times are changing, as they always do,

and I fear where my words may disappear to

but if they must, I ask one thing:

please let them still exist.

“Something new, something old.”

366 Poems: December 26th, 2016

The Song

Don’t ask me why I’m singing,

’cause I’ll never know the answer.

Why my voice explores its highs and lows,

how it soars and quivers,

how it grows loud

grows quiet

takes every perfect harmony and wrong note into count.

I won’t know why I’m singing

except I’ve been doing it all my life.

And my life has certainly explored its highs,




perfection and imperfection.

Don’t ask me why I’m singing.

I have always been singing.

It’s just about time I let it be heard.

366 Poems: December 22nd, 2016


I live for every beautiful


flaw in this world.

Every tough question.

Every dark day.

I live for every day that I learn more about myself

and the universe.

Because on every day I dies

of fear,


or anxiety,

the words I wrote told me it was time to live.

“Live I n s i d e”

366 Poems: December 13th, 2016

Snow Drift

You look outside

at the fresh falling snow,

taking life after life

of each bug and each plant,

causing bridges to freeze

and driving cars to skid,

in each mile on mile

of hell-frozen havoc–

and you can’t help but think,

“How beautiful…”


We see a lot of things like that.