His feelings for me reminds me of fog hugging the mountains right before dawn.

The lights along the hillsides replicate his eyes.

They pierce through the confusion

of our past and lies.

My presence, he craves it.

The movement of my tongue along his body.

His hands gripping the arch in my back.

Although he’ll never admit,

this lust is the reason we embody

Something sacred we can’t quit.

Desperation in his gaze;

the way he stares at me bare.

Ready to devour me into a daze.

Will the gleam in his glare vanish as the sun begins to rise?

Am I giving too much credit to someone I should despise?

The feelings once felt are no longer a reality.

Love isn’t something genuine I can give.

Yet,there’s comfort is in the familiarity.

But, I don’t believe he wants anything more

Than someone to suck his dick.

Yet as each passionate kiss is given,

I can’t help but wonder what’s beyond the haze we’ve allowed to set in.

the foreseeable future isn’t as bright as the day before us

Then again, neither was our yesterday.

This desire we both seek within one another

Causes me to wonder:

Are we finally on each other’s team

Or are we both just in a Love Sex Dream?

The thought of you

doesn’t haunt my mind often

But occasionally I do get scared.

The armor I welded with time and self love

Sometimes is stripped away,

leaving me bare.

-

There’s an emptiness underneath it

A void I thought I filled.

-

In this moment my heart fills heavy,

Longing for your presence though

I know it won’t persist without a levy.

-

We had tried many times

to exist together before;

Attempted to act as friends

And nothing more.

But all it led to was

patterns of lustful behavior.

-

Most times I find myself believing

That the people of our yesterday

Are far from who we are now.

Then a memory reveals itself

and the emotions cave into my soul

As if there’s a sinkhole at the pit of my core.

-

Faster than a blink of an eye,

I’m naive again-

Yearning for your care.

Ironic how when you finally said

“I love you”

I chose to not be there.

Spring Edition 2026

June 14, 2026

I don’t know what Love is. I suppose I could spend my time reading scholar articles on what the scientific researchers have deemed it. But, in reality, I don’t think that would be beneficial for me to learn how to love. If I were to study up on the evolutionary reasoning behind love or the neurology of bonding with someone, I would be doing a disservice to myself and to those I am learning to love.

 Contrary to many beliefs, I am beginning to piece together that the love we see in media and throughout history has been a horrible and influential attempt to enforce the patriarchy. The scientific approach to answering Haddaway’s question of “What is Love?” points to a very specific type of love. One that is heteronormative in nature that begins with lust and ends with procreation.

 When I was in college, I took a Sex and Love philosophy course. In my textbook’s introduction, the collaborators admitted that most of the collection was the opinions of men. The main reason for this is that throughout history, the opinions of women were deemed unworthy of note.

I can talk forever about how much misogyny and the patriarchy have brainwashed our society, and perhaps I will indulge in sharing those thoughts at a later time. But for the time being, I want to spend it conveying what I have learned from a philosopher by the name of Simone de Beauvoir.

Beauvoir’s thoughts on love fascinated me, mainly because her views highlight love in a way that isn’t restricted to the romantic aspects of love. She rejected the traditional ideals of love that gave power to the patriarchy: possession, inequality, submission, and domination. Rather, she believed that authentic love flourished in mutual respect. A love that can be experienced towards anyone regardless of sex and gender.

In my 28 years of life, I have witnessed and experienced self-loss as a byproduct of self-giving. I regret to admit that I have indulged in this concept to a maximum. My top artist of the year, for as long as I can remember, has been Taylor Swift, who is no stranger to writing gut-wrenching lyrics about sacrificing yourself at the expense of someone else.

It is sort of expected, especially for those in a new relationship, to throw themselves in completely with their partner. Suddenly, all their free time is dedicated to one person. I have also noticed that family tends to enable that expectation as well, for if you don’t show up to a family get-together with your partner, all of a sudden, something is wrong. I can’t tell you how often, over the countless holiday parties, my family has asked me where my partners have been. Almost as if the idea that they have their own families to celebrate with is foreign. It is a tough cycle to break, and I think that is something that scientists make a point of. We have an intense desire as human beings to be whole with another. Perhaps that is the evolutionary hardwiring we must endure as human beings. But at the same time, that isn't an excuse to conform to the norm so easily. To believe that, and use it as the reason to not hold agency and distinction, is equivalent to men claiming that SA is the fault of their primal urges.

 Beauvoir believed that there could be self-giving without self-loss, despite the norm consisting of self-sacrificing behaviors that ultimately contribute to the absorption of their identity into their partners (often women into men).

To love authentically, there must be deep care, but also a sense of respect for one another’s independence. Rather than viewing love as finding your soulmate and becoming one (like Aristophanes in Plato’s Symposium declares love to be), it’s healthy to view love with the belief that you are already whole and don’t need another to fill any voids you feel you hold. Without that self-love and self-respect, Beauvoir’s authentic love is out of reach.

I think that to have stable and flourishing relations with others, we must mend our own gardens first. We must devote time to sowing seeds and watering our buds. To indulge in playtime with our child selves. This isn’t a one-and-done deal. Tending to ourselves is something we must do often. Self-care is extremely important, and I think that is what is lost in many relations. We spread ourselves thin, and other people’s expectations create limitations and vice versa. That is where the mutual respect comes in.

I don’t know what love is, but I am learning how to love, and that behavior is heavily influenced by Beauvoir’s philosophy.

Sometimes I feel like the world is too tough for my existence. But then, the more I think about it… I realize that it isn’t the world. It’s the people that roam it that hurt me. The guidelines our culture has set forth. The trauma that has collectively destroyed any pure optimism. Humanity is a toxin and as much as we all would like to think the future is bright; the truth is, we are all doomed. It is a very nihilistic perspective, yet it is factual. Humans are not pure. We are too complex to be. It scares me to the pit of my soul, the place where my heart beats. We are never safe. Maybe that’s why some cling onto the comfort of familiar pain while others live with their heads amongst the stars. I am neither of these two. There’s a purgatory between these. I’m stuck in a transition, and it’s a lonely place to be stranded. 

I’ve heard people need others. That humane connection. It’s paradoxical because that exact connection is what causes so much pain. Perhaps Nietzsche is correct when he claims that the happiest people are those who take the hand that has been dealt and run with it. Those who live dangerously. He believes we must be inspired to achieve the beyond. I truly desire to be strong. In many aspects I know my strength is more advanced that those who follow the main course. The loneliness is what hinders my belief in myself though. This fear of vulnerability, when I know for certain knives will enter my back more often than tenderness. Then again, I suppose that is what Nietzsche means by danger. The knowledge of pain yet the willpower to continue to exist along with it. The ability to stare existence in the eyes and laugh because you’ve overcame the toughest obstacles of living. That achievement is what brings the greatest pleasure.  Perhaps that is the reason to be.

I’m beginning to see thru my rose colored glasses,

I wonder if that’s why he keeps buying me more roses

So my attention isn’t on those hanging dead above my bed.

But rather on a bouquet so full

of the colors I’d imagine hope and affection would be

Red, pink, white

So pure, never comfortable but eccentric

As if it promises a lifetime of love,

although he never dare hint at those words

A bouquet of wishful thinking.

I’m slowly realizing the flowers wilt a lot faster than before

At first I thought the cause was something I was doing wrong.

I tried pouring fresh water in daily

Thought perhaps maybe that would encourage a chance of longevity

But as the rose tint grows clearer,

my theory now is that the blame is not on me

but the bouquet itself

For rather than plant a garden full of rooted promises,

I’m gifted cut roses.

Knowing they will wilt for they’re already dead

And the plant food he would gift me

along with the bouquet of wishful thinking

seems to be no longer available

So I lay on my bed, and gaze up

at the the once red, pink and white flowers

that have turned into a dark hue

As the bouquet he gifted a couple weeks ago,

resting in a vase they never quite fit have followed

I shan’t ask for more though

For if I do, I become “pushy” for sweet nothings

I wonder if that’s for the best,

Because why would I devoted myself to death?

I destroyed what we were creating,

Unconsciously pushed you away.

For, I never know what’s a normal

Nor acceptable space needed

In order to keep at bay.

I despise the sensation of

limitation, expectation and nuances

Yet when the suffocation and confusion

begins to start,

A gravitational force slams me into

Every nook and cranny of the person

I convince myself you are.

Despite the anxiety of intimacy,

It’s almost impossible for me to part.

My insecurities whimpered a panic.

The idea of abandonment

Due to any sudden change of haze

ate me up inside

Until I encompassed everything

I feared you would be.

And although it could have be avoided

If I nurtured my existence with quiet and a few moments away

I never dare gave you the chance to flee

Nor me a moment of peace.

I grabbed on and held

until it was you who couldn’t breathe.

It’s ironic to think that what I feared was a manifestation of what would be.

For if I could just learn to dismiss the reality

I fabricate,

Perhaps I wouldn’t have devoured

And spit out

The dreams of our yesterday.

2022

2021

Miles of wind pushed us through valleys and deserts

Drunk and at our peak

I believed in every wise thing you had to say.

Time has passed us.

And our conversations replay.

So many vices

Yet growth has been casted

As I followed your “lessons” day by day.

I question as to how I became better

While you sunk down in your hole.

You claimed to have shown me your soul

But now I see I’m the only one

who shared the truth of my core.

Disappointed in the man who I once praised

The facade has finally been raised.

Now I see you’re a con man of all traits.

Still a part of me wishes it all was untrue

Because the new love I have towards life

Was created from the lies of you.

If the world were to end today what would I have to negotiate

When I have that final wave In sight,

will I imagine somewhere dark or light?

I wonder how it would feel to die,

To no longer feel the breeze

That reminds me I’m alive.

Could I say I’m proud of who I’m aspiring to be

If we all were swallowed up by the sea?

My mind is pounding endlessly against my skull

Countless phrases of hatred towards myself are echoing louder than I can control.

It’s itching in my skin.

Begging to get out.

To grovel low enough to reach that satisfaction

Would ultimately give the demons deep in the shadows of my soul much more ammunition

And me, more doubt.

No matter how much I push my psyche to look towards the light,

Further and further it refuses

Until all the optimism I so desperately crave is no longer in sight.

A few bad turns have lead me in disarray,

Can someone please remind me that in the end I’ll be okay.

Santa Barbara/Sunken City 2022

Lately I feel like the truth of my core is what I desire to find. But in doing so I'm losing myself within my own mind.

I lay wide awake in the middle of the night. Attempting to organize the millions of thoughts that keeps my spirit hidden inside.

Running through this maze I wonder if I’ll ever make it out alive. With each divergent view, I tend to follow the obvious path, full of light. I claim a want of honesty. But with each step taken, secretly I am hoping there aren't more demons left to fight. Scared of the dark, for, that’s where the unknown lies.

I travel in circles of what is known to my conscious mind. But, what's in front of me isn't all there is to see and I sense this deep inside. To reach the end, I know I must confront all that I am avoiding. The more introspective I become, the greater the fear is that my soul is what I’m destroying.

Anxiety devours me as I fall more into a pit of uncertainty. My sanity is on the brink of losing all aspiration in sight. The route I am on begins to dim. It seems like there is no alternative trail left that's bright.

So now I pose the question that's been causing these black holes disguised as eyes. When my world turns dark and the path is no longer: Who will I be tonight?

I think there is something beautiful about having a past. Stories that strangers aren’t worthy of. Secrets that lovers might hear in due time.

Perhaps I am too hasty when it comes to revealing my essence. I put myself on a platter to be devoured. All my doubts and fears- my hopes and dreams. Injured and pure loves. All that makes me, I lay with bare. My heart isn’t worn on my sleeve, it is tattooed on my forehead for everyone to see.

There is magic within a mystery. I desire to be more like Houdini. I have heard Magicians never reveal their secrets. But surely they know how transparent to be and whom to trust.

Maybe I do have a lot to say and no one to say it to. But, why is that a bad thing? Always, I am scared of time. Worried everything within is going to rupture me into a demise. It could very well be that everything I wish to speak is not creatively developed enough to be showcased. I must first master the art of concealment. Then reflection. And when the moment is right, when the natural shine blesses its rays from above me as if it is a spotlight- that is when I will gently hand over pieces of the puzzle that will form the tale of my existence.

Only the most remarkable will learn my secrets.

2022

2022

I’ve realized that you can’t possess moments. You experience them once and reminisce the further away they get. It seems as if they fade away. But, I truly believe that they become us. Eventually, like the pink and orange and blue that mixes in the sky at sunset: water color- all those special memories blend together and form the YOU death will meet.

I think love works the same way.

You can’t hold essence. At least not that of another. You must have appreciation of the impact they’ve made within yours.