Do good things and take care of one another.

23rd January 2014


7th November 2013

Photoset reblogged from this isn't happiness. with 2,156 notes


Return to Magenta

11th September 2013


Driving through the night from Denton to Chicago for this to make dreams come true for a weekend.

Driving through the night from Denton to Chicago for this to make dreams come true for a weekend.

21st July 2013

Photoset reblogged from originale with 45,609 notes

Reykjavík, Iceland’s capital city. 

Source: irredescent

21st July 2013

Photo reblogged from originale with 41,318 notes


10th June 2013

Photo reblogged from Tastefully Offensive on Tumblr with 2,943 notes





26th May 2013

Photoset with 16 notes

I lent my face for a fantastic new portrait series by Trey Wright. Check out more of his work at

Tagged: trey wrightfashionsunglassespradacutoutsstill lifeportraitportraitsphotographywerkmodeldentontexasnorthUNTTWU

24th April 2013

Post with 2 notes





"Forgiveness is for anyone who wants a safe passage through my mind. 

Forgiveness is the release of all hope for a better past. 

-B. Wakefield

Ever since I heard this three years ago, I have enjoyed myself a lot more in social situations and been a more consistently upbeat person. I just now realized this. 

I guess that is what taking something to heart really becomes.

20th April 2013

Post with 1 note

The Last Straw

The night you surrendered to your demons and deleted the exorcist’s number from your phone.

When you hid inside my walls because you “wanted to hear me exist”.

When you screamed your dream at me before you had time to forget it

and when you punched me in the face because I didn’t wake up fast enough to hear it.

The night I held the door open for you and you fell asleep in the frame to test my dedication to chivalry.

The night you swerved all over the road to show how drunk with love you were and you ruined someone’s picket fence.

That time you paid for dinner and didn’t tip the waiter.

The day you poured bleach in the dishwasher because you couldn’t find the detergent. No.

The noodle incident.


EPM 2013

20th April 2013


The Dream

He dreamed

of a broken bicycle.

"Your work ethic" said

his boss.

"Your marriage" said

his mistress.

"Your childhood" said

his psychiatrist.

"Life left behind" said

the voice inside of him.

His wife said


picked up her purse,

and left for work.


EPM 2013

20th April 2013


Based on old notes from Galveston, TX

I set my compass south and started my engine before daylight broke my focus.

I passed through the death penalty headquarters and slept at the colossal shoes of Sam Houston for a few hours when the sun caught up to me.

The closer you get to the Gulf of Mexico, the more Texas boasts about possessing palm trees:

50 miles out and you can see the struggling tropicals hunching over in plastic pots outside of every nook and diner.

The air is salty today.

A gray lady justice stands guard over the primary intersection of Galveston, Texas.

She faces north - away from the chaos of the ocean.

The sea knows nothing of justice.


I make my way down to the revealingly named Seawall Blvd in hopes of a soft place to sit.

I find an entire beach worth of cushion.

I submerse myself in Poseidon’s insolent children.

Their waves. Their rage.

They swallow me and their salty spit blinds me for all that my vision is worth.

Blinking helps only a little.

I wonder how sailors deal with it.


The couple sitting nearest to me are infatuated with one another.

They share spliff after spliff before making love in the tides.

A nervous lifeguard is whistle-blowing his guts out

because they are inching closer and closer to the forbidden swim zone.

I wonder if he really believes that they might be unknowingly pulverized against jagged rocks at the expense of their passionate continuation.

His lungs must be shot by now. 

I could tell him to relax

but I’d rather let it go.


Things like these

are best left

to nature.


EPM 2013

20th April 2013



You are a storm shelter buried beneath the sea.

You are bird houses abundant in the branches.

These basements we make for ourselves serve as blankets

to the world outside we want to forget.

Whisper softer.

Breathe easier.

We could spend a spend a century constructing cathedrals from the confidential

but will never know the hum of nodding off to sleep unless we lay down our chisels.

Save the labor for another day.


I never meant to fall apart so easily

I didn’t mean paint you something dangerous.

You have tornado country


into the valley between your ribs

and I gave up on storm chasing years ago.

I caught the first cloud

heading the longest direction home.

I never looked back.

I never thought it would spin me in circles

and bring me back

to the past

that I haven’t lived.


When I split my knuckles open

to show you my handiwork, 

you reached for bandages and told me

to get some rest.


EPM 2013

20th April 2013

Post with 1 note

This poem is about how Tumblr’s word processor is a piece of shit and it goes like this:

Tumblr’s word processor

is a piece of shit.

EPM 2013

20th April 2013


Astronaut Acrostic

Before we

Learned to speak

Out of passion, we spoke

Out of necessity.

Death is not the only reason to chase survival.

I don’t want to live just to


The space cadet might

Hear only circuits buzzing for months - 

Incantations of machinery breathing.

Cries calling out to jet-black heaven

Keep him company as he drifts.



By the time the wires fall silent

Under crinkled thermal sheets,

The astronaut sleeps.

Winter enters his cabin through

A crack in his carbon fiber cell and for the first time in seven months, wind whispers.

The space cadet sleeps through it all.

Emergency threat level:


Space is not for everyone.

When the silence gets too eerie,

Astronauts will press their heads against each others’ chests

Listening to heartbeats

Lying together

Only so that they may hear life and

Wash away the relentless, eternal


By the time his cabin collapses under the pressure of space pushing inward, the

Astronaut has frozen - a vacuum where vital signs once were.

Call ground control. 

Keep them from sending a search party; the cosmonaut finally sleeps.

EPM 2013

20th April 2013

Post with 1 note

Words that I’ve forgotten about