Love, Simon

Crying in the dark in a room full of strangers isn’t considered crying in public.. right? No one saw me. No one was there to hold my hand, so it didn’t happen.. right?

I felt alone, not being able to be there with you.

This film took me back.. and gave me tremendous gratitude for being openly gay, accepted, and loved.. and for living in Los Angeles.

Holy shit. Just realized I’ve been out for as long as I was in. Seventeen years. Wow. I’m thirty-fucking-four! Wow.

It wasn’t always easy to be myself. I too felt hidden, and not just for being gay but for feeling “different.”

I think it really all comes down to love. How one sees and values their immediate surroundings says everything about their heart life and beliefs on how things exist. I mean, THIS is Reality.

I cried because the movie was perfect, but more because I miss you.

“Wild Heart” -Bleachers

Sweet November

I say goodbye to you.

I found that your story was a delusion.

I’m no longer living under your guise.

I’m so sorry it didn’t work out for us.

Tradition has changed.

What we had, I’ll miss..

But it was just a moment.

A beautiful one at that.


Jaw dropped

Wide open

A mess over you

Like the light flashes before me, electricity

Your love is fire, slow burning and not going out

Constant surprises, your warmth

Free, flow, for us now until then..

I’m all in.


A runner without a race left.

I cannot chase you anymore.

Trust must prevail.

Thinking of you doesn’t bring you closer, because you’re unwilling.

Manifestation is an ideal, released and magnified.

You must exist.

Show yourself to me.

The games are over.

Writers Write

What is this surrender all about?  Is it lethargy?  Is it depression?  Or is it new found strength to have stopped fighting what is?

Romance has changed.  I don’t feel this constant jolt and charge to connect to it and need to stay connected to it.  It feels like a steady heartbeat, of balance, or normalcy, and that.. I am not used to.  Have I ever been in love?  The quick answer has been.. yeah, every time.  But I don’t believe that’s true anymore.  Maybe the answer is no, I never have been.  I’m still figuring it out, I think.  There’s sadness there.  And, also a freshness that is tied to curiosity.  How real were the orgasms I’ve had?  And for them?  Were we really that connected and in sync?  Or was I feeling myself?

Beside my questioning of life, daily, there’s also a knowing.  How odd.  To know and also to not know, that’s life?  I feel things, but are they true? But what if the truth feels right?

So what am I really doing besides nothing?  Everything.

{ These images are part of an ongoing collection I started this year. }

There’s nothing worse than feeling sad

How did this happen to me?  For me?

Why do I NEED so much?  (It’s been 8 months since I was touched, held.)

Why is being human so hard?

Why do I resist anything real?

Why is the craving for reality so?  Yet my hopelessness washes it away.

I just don’t get it.

I just don’t.