I Live In Santa Cruz. I Moved

To Love Life, To Love It Even When You Have No Stomach For It And Everything You've Held Dear Crumbles Like Burnt Paper In Your Hands, Your Throat Filled With The Silt Of It. When Grief Sits With You, Its Tropical Heat Thickening The Air, Heavy As Water More Fit For Gills Than Lungs; When Grief Weights You Like Your Own Flesh Only More Of It, An Obesity Of Grief, You Think, How Can A Body Withstand This? Then You Hold Life Like A Face Between Your Palms, A Plain Face, No Charming Smile, No Violet Eyes, And You Say, Yes, I Will Take You I Will Love You, Again.

I Wanted To Be A Writer Since I Was In High School, But I Never Thought It Was Possible.

Your Wallet Will Be Stolen, You'll Get Fat, Slip On The Bathroom Tiles Of A Foreign Hotel And Crack Your Hip.

Allow Yourself To Release The Emotions You Have Struggled All Your Life To Contain.

There's A Part Of Every Living Thing That Wants To Become Itself: The Tadpole Into The Frog, The Chrysalis Into The Butterfly, A Damaged Human Being Into A Whole One.that Is Spirituality.