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i used to call the tears that sunk into my pores, unfiltered and dirty emotion.

i used to call the overwhelming need to breathe a clearer air, tangled and selfish ambition.

i used to call my hearts whisper for those who my soul had cried for, a sound too loud that should be silenced.

and now, i call her wild restless movement…

nothing but pure and abundant



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i want to go back to when life was just about discovering the next part of myself…it’s seems within the growth, i have lost the core of my being. the more i push myself to give the aspects of me that i find my identity in, the more i feel stagnant. day to day, life doesn’t seem as much as a dream as it used to, and there must be something i can do to fix it. i never knew it was possible to overwork my passions, yet here i am. fighting for the validation of other successful artists.
i’m forgetting a key ingredient in this recipe though…
art was never about validation, it’s about putting ME into an image, into graphite and ink on paper, into paint, into color. every hair on my head and every pore in my skin. my own emotion and my connection to myself and everyone else just happens to be there. art is created in the rawest form when it’s coming from my soul without distraction, worry, or a clouded judgment i put on myself. i need to rediscover what it’s like to be home inside my creativity. i miss it more than i could ever try to explain in words. there is nothing more beautiful about art that it’s divine mistakes that defy that definition itself. mistake after mistake until it resides in perfection. no more formats, correctly combined colors, extra thoughts about “did i word this right” or “is this the right stroke of paint.” how will i ever truly inspire without letting my incomparable spiderweb of a mind untangle itself before those who are willing to admire it?


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i trail the lanes

of a greenhouse.

caressing the limbs of the living in hopes it will shed its life onto mine.

in hopes it will fulfill me with the energy

i once was known to have.

they reached out to me, so gentle and soft.

never intending to overgrow or invade the space of others like them,

but rather coincide with unity.

every atom within them glows.

i admire hands that have taken care of the vibrant shades of brilliance these seeds have grown into, and the even larger hands that created the seeds to begin with.

the sun is among the caretakers wandering the organized mess within these dirty windows. oh

the sun, my lover.

it didn’t take me long

to know you were the one for me

you were like that crush i had in middle school.

no, i never directly talked to him

or looked him in the eye

but i was always aware of his presence and that was enough to know,

i wanted him.

the recharging energy

radiating love and warmth to everyone he was near.

i want to chase you,

until the end of time.

even if you will never chase me back i could never get to tired of feeling how you make me feel.

you never have to get love back to really be in love


i do think you love me

i can hear you say it

through the bright pinks and oranges when you say goodnight and good morning.

i can feel it when you’re at your most intense moments,

you almost seem angry.

but, i know you’re just passionate,

desperate to give life.

i want to run away with you.

you are day

and you are light.

you have never left me

even though you pretend you disappear for a while you are only hiding behind the moon.

drawing me in,

lifting my chin,

going in for a kiss.

i’ve never tasted lips sweeter than yours.

mine are like bees to your honeycomb and i recharge from your electricity.

oh, the sun, my lover. you give life to the plants and you give life to me.

natural selection

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The essence of music so loud

it’s like it’s the beat of your own heart,

and in a way

it is.

it seems to be keeping you alive in that moment.

in that two or three hours

you forget about what it is to grow up.

you forget about anything bad

or anything sour,

it’s just the music reflecting off of itself

combined with the voices of the crowd

and the faint smell of sweat and devotion.

and all you remember,

if anything at all,

is all the good memories,

the good inspiration,

new ideas.

you lose yourself in that room

and the blue and orange florescent lights hypnotize you.

this is the only place where no one cares if you intrude in their personal space

or pull their hair on accident or knock elbows

because everyone

IS everyone’s own personal space.

a space where personal doesn’t exist

because everyone is connected here.

this is the place where you can be THAT crowded

and still feel like the only one in the room.

your feet hurt and you don’t care, the air would normally smell polluted but for some odd reason it’s not a awful smell anymore. things just make sense.

strangers feel like people you’ve known your entire life.

all of this in a couple hours and thirty-five dollars,

and there is hours and hours more.

knowing this exists,

i’d much rather spend my small amount of money

on experience.

the hum of the speakers grow louder and louder.

my hands begin to trace my cool skin

glinting with sweat.

i feel the most beautiful when i’m dancing.

the kind of natural beauty you only get to grasp every now and then

when i tune into just the rhythm and how every note works together.

purity and passion.

my chin lifts,

and i smile.

my hair falling in waves behind my back.

my arms lift,

my hips sway,

forgetting where i am,

who i’m with.

the lights inside my eyelids remind me just enough im still here

and that’s all i need.

on the top of the world,

i raise my arms

and i scream

“i will never grow up!”

and the rest of the crowd seems to be echoing me.

the band is the rhythm

that ties us together

making us all

a family.

this is what it’s like to be home.

vanquishing sea salt

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as i lay within the sea salt waves

every atom of myself and it


i remember once

they looked my age

at seventeen

in feet.

to what i defined

the dark blue habitation to creatures with teeth.

but now i submerge myself underneath

the rhythm of the crash

that has begun to soothe me.

i become the bridge

to the chorus

it’s creating

building up to the pull back

and crash.

losing myself,

creating a melody.

allowing myself

to sink between the ins and the outs

but never sinking into the timidity

balancing the salt in my body

with the salt in its own

accepting its intensity,


it’s presence.

granting it the push and the pulls

and from the fear

i composed a home.



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i get stuck thinking there are microscopic pieces of me in places i haven’t been, and in things i don’t have. like there are particles of me i’m looking for, in the form of dust floating aimlessly ahead of me somewhere.

the sparks i feel trick me into thinking i need something tangible to be happier.-

i’m not going to find myself in scenes meant for post cards or movies. i’m not going to find happiness in the greenery and the warm air. happiness comes from something imponderable. it comes from within the canals of my mind that i often leave untouched.- connecting myself with knowledge of the ability to control my own mind and making my own decisions about how i can feel and what i can find out of life, authorizes me to not only see particles of myself floating right in front of me but entire fragments everywhere i step.

i can finally begin to catch a glimpse of the pure allurement that those exact diverse places and new things have to offer me that i would’ve been blind to trying to search for elements of me that were never there to begin with.- i can enter on an epic vicissitude

old love

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where old love grows

take me there

even when the shadows cover up the vibrancy of the burning passion

i’ll still know it’s there

i’ll leave it to rest

and water it until the morning sunlight hits it once again

-like the sun, inspiration and passion come and go-

-this does not mean we shut the shades-


it’s effortless to give up on what you love the most because you don’t “feel it” anymore. being IN love with something is the emotional high of love itself. its really a glorious thing. it’s the butterflies and the giggles and the (what seems to be) endless passion. that’s why we confuse it so much with love itself. but what happens when that goes away? we release it from ourselves, and search for it again elsewhere, constantly looking for that “high” in something or someone else. we find out it wasn’t love at all because it didn’t stay. what we forget is this pattern of feeling is only temporary joy. you’ll end up going sunrises and sunsets missing the raw version of love. the love that only comes when you’re past that feeling. you can’t expect a feeling to last in its full intensity. whatever you think true love is, it’s always, ALWAYS consistent. it will always stay, it’s deeper than a feeling, and it is selfless. think of it as this: “the thrill you feel on first seeing some delightful place dies away once you really go and live there. does this mean it would be better not to learn to fly and not live in that beautiful place? it is just the people who are ready to submit to the loss of the thrill and settle down to the sober interest, who are most likely to meet new thrills in some quite different direction.”


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recently, i had the opportunity to join some friends in a yoga class at hours before the sun rose, and one thing the instructor said stood out to me. “nothing left to do, nothing more to be.” it got me wondering how easily it is to get caught up in our tasks, our lives, even our own goals. always onto the next thing we have to get done, or in my case the next thing i want to become and fix. even in that place where i have time, the right atmosphere, and someone outside of myself telling me where to focus my attention i seem to draw back into my railroad mind. for a moment i was following her directions on where to move my body as merely a list of instructions, that i began to tune out the sound of her voice and instead indulge in my own thoughts and tasks once again. i established a cloud of judgment upon myself so large i was missing the point. she said that line and i clutched the present again. each inhale and exhale were just that. each exuberant movement i made after those words were intentional and there was truly nothing left to do. there was nothing left to be. my mind was cleansed from fixes and fulfillment. in moments when i find rest between the constant search for becoming something else, i am the most whole. i stand high and tall even when i appear to be walking alone into nothing, but i am not. nothing is good sometimes. nothing has the proficiency to become purification.


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it walks on every street

and seems to weave

into the lips of everything

speaking in tongues of “do they like me”

finding purpose in the purpose of others

when others are doing the exact same commodity

we are together in the loneliness of the interstice we feel

we try to resolve it by becoming caustic

telling ourselves to be ourselves but forging for anyone’s customization

enticed by the facade and swaddled with judgment

we vaporize our very own fortification


how do we fight a society that tells us to embrace the core of who you are but then demolishes the very part of us that allows us to do so? how do we love without judgment and with justice instead? how do we give up the empty search for ourselves in others and just be OURSELVES? we all seem to want that. we don’t want acceptance for someone we are pretending to be, we want acceptance for who we ARE, we just don’t think others will accept the differences. put a limit to this affirmation, not to go against society but to be free of that casket we put ourselves in doing this. imagine all the wonderful things people have to share, the minds that could invent things, the ideas that are silenced. dance on that washing machine, tell that stranger they have a dandy smile, embarrass yourself! there shouldn’t be anything to be embarrassed about.

coffee and conversation

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sometimes i sit in coffee shops and listen to those around me. couples, friends and family gather together to chat, while sipping slowly on their warm cups filled with refreshments. there’s a mix of conversation here, some which beam laughter and joy with their encouraging words and uplifting subjects. they light up the corner that those people nestle in, radiating positivity and sincerity to any who catch a word. they stay for hours, seeming to get lost in time in their conversation of utmost depth, the things that mean something to them. when they do, however, suddenly remember that hours have passed, they walk away feeling like it was worth something. there are others that remain here, too. the many others who come and go while the rest have sat and forgotten they are in a coffee shop at all. these others are those who have conversations consisting of just the opposite. these are the individuals who come and carry words of negative expressions and stories of other people as they go. the latest “news” from this or that person they encountered the other day. the faults of other people and the words that tear down instead of lift up. you can almost see the weariness of holding all that weight of the validation from others drain each person carrying that luggage. those people seem to crave something more. maybe i have noticed this precisely because i used to be one of those people.
i think we all want to change the world in some way. if not the world, at least the little corner of it that we exist in individually. we all crave meaning out of our lives. i think we all crave those conversations that last hours that we can’t seem to get enough of, we seem to stop ourselves from it because we are afraid. whether we realize it or not. afraid to open up, to be known by someone else, maybe even to be known by ourselves. we’d rather sip our coffee and let it try to fill up the feeling that the negative conversation being had is causing. too often we are missing what the real point in daily life is. we miss that we should not (and do not) thrive on negative thoughts about anyone, even ourselves. i have found that putting an abrupt end to this habit clears up how you not only see other people, but how you see the world around you and how you may see yourself. there is no need to be scared, for the world is marvelous. don’t put a mask on your conversations. step into that coffee shop, order your large caramel latte with hazelnut and choose.
what conversation do you REALLY want to have?
sincerely, mar