looking through my diary

We sit by the ocean
while eating grapefruit,
and gazing
through white windows

A tea party is automatically nostalgic
lip biting returns while diving further into the future, adulthood
and whatever that means,

The painting by the ocean is prettier
than the others
due to the salt, and its healing properties

I am in the air,
planning something for a future moment

three weeks from now
that might end up being too late when executed


There is my body

My left thumb is painted red
by a nail polish that I did not buy, but left in the wrong location
Quick, make your eyes sparkle in a way that reads like poetry
a pupil that blends in
you are my universe,
the lakes, the air
intelligent in a way that is humble, an art form.
shy but courageous
innocence that shines through quick eye movements
Beauty. Beautiful Love. light

Sail back

There is a striped shirt, among the striped blankets,
and striped car
It’s a dirty t-shirt but has a few days left in it

Listening to a song
that brings back the driving through countrysides alone,
Could have been yesterday, or tomorrow
Things don’t change like they should

I just found a coffee stain, probably from my flight here
It’s ok to sink into the chair while holding palo santo in hand
Scent will take or cover the sad girl
longing for something


In the first flush of romance, she’s making a confession to her love interest. The chunky parts of people collide like water flowers. Today is the fifth anniversary, the radio says, of the day on which “everything changed.”It’s ok, I’ll take better care of myself now. I’m not very smart at the beginning of spring, when even the sidewalk has hormones. I walk to a white building surrounded by orange trees to sit. There were several empty seats, and some bids had to be coaxed out from the room.


Everyone is still piling onto the ladder.
Soft minor notes are playing through a misty orange window.
Drink more, drink more water before the fall.
A wake up call in Florida arrives.
Everything is made of triangles and energy.
Maybe I shouldn’t message that guy?
The current feels like the day after a 6 month long party.
Marketing shapes me through the eras.
At the party, I fell through a ghost ship.
You pulled me out with one eye open.