Frantically attempting to 
Hold down the responsibilities 
I have invited in
Two internships now
Friends
And a boring degree I’m trying to succeed in
The lost coast boys followed into my dream last night
I wonder if I will ever work with them professionally
They are lucky to have each other

My phone rings rarely from you
My mom calls on her way to work
And the words “whats new?” set me ajar.
I am not in the habbit of real conversation with you
And it reminds me of all that I need to do

Unempowered and frusterated
Tired and bored
I want to be in school no more
Exploring the world with Servas behind me
For World peace
I’d love to be only who I am

Why am I inhibbited
by the norm
The most beautiful of dancers
Stamping her existance with Dr.
To be forgotten in the dark hallways of a hospital.
Like they ask us to be.

Peers, mentors, media
What do you want to do?
A multiple choice question of
paths laid out
predictable and safe
I am not A, B, C, or D
Worries sparked by the mention of the unknown
Do they unknowingly break us?
What is it to choose

The door open 
Piles of clothes spill over
Underneath it all are my climbing shoes
One item overlooked: my spare deoderant
Dim sparkle of christmas lights
Computer by my knee
Indents the soft duvet I bought to be happy
Wrapped around me, it does its duty
Read me, Read me
Black infamous 3-ringed ocean
Urging to be charted
Online homework waiting
Do it
Not yet
Tomorrow
Now!
No

I see the map peeping through my open closet door
It feels so good to run pen on paper.

Our music might comprimise our secracy, but the view of the water from here is illuminated by the thrill. Red gatea prefer to be called golden. Bannana chips, a yellow ring black seeds sweeten the middle. 2.99 six pack, the title doesnt hide the tast. Premium Goldmine is less gold than the red structure growing out of the ocean. A redwood seedling stretches towards the sun in a eclipse of light breaking through the dense canopy. I’ll return to you in the morning. But until then I’ll stay here. Golden days with your red cousin, Giant of th Bay. 

Bright screens push images
Into our minds
We absorb willingly at first
European Beach Grass
King of invators
Sucking the drops from the sand
Like a 49er
Starving the natives
The clock watches
You can’t want what you don’t know is missing
It makes me sick
The stagnant generation
so talented in selective amnesia
The lost art of words
held in the hands of a curious few
 Refusing to be numb
Refusing to be blind
Refusing to be a sheep
The tipping point is near.
I’m tired of the screens
being plugged in to the images
while out generation waits 
for the writers and movers
I no longer want to be numb

Hard hats sprinkle the patio
Movement of the walls
Give way to a polished gem

The bones are never glamorous
I’ve realized this journey
Unless you love them as they are

Plaster deteriorating staircase
Below what is granted access
The guests only see what
we want them to see

The bones of the house
foreshadowed its greatness
But lackes the gloss

Hard hats won’t sprinkle
The patio every day
Soon theyll only see what
they want to see

But I prefer the bones

sensations arise from the back of my mind. To be free to be who you chose. To say it simply is to say it wisely, I am happy. Drunk and in bed i wish for the morning 

The rain drops dont bother me. My suade shoes might say differently, but the buzz in my body is enough. Breezing through security, let them think they can stop us.

Satalites are a sign we arent supposed to be here. I feel the drops of water on the iron rod and tighten my fist. Hood up, nows a good time not to slip. But those fears evade me. 

You can tell with the lack of hesitation in which I turned the door knop. There wasnt supposed to be a 33rd floor. Its not my fault, they were asking for it when they said we couldnt ride the glass elavator.

Oh we rode that elavator.  And we didnt stop there. #2. Cameras facing it made me wonder what they had to hide. A red door stenciled with the warning “do not open: burgular alarm”. I challenged that, and with a twist of the wrist was on top of the world. 

My eyes opened as they closed. The sounds and lights never end in San Fransisco. The faint voices and hum of traffic carries even to the 12th floor. Bagels and cream cheese, empowering amd rooting conversations ring in my mind from the morning as I take on this city. One step at a time, it all feels conquerable. The leaves peek out from the wooden starcase. They shrink in the horizon. Up, up, up, tropical awasis of flowers and tiny wooden paths. We all fight for the skyline, each house higher than the last. My grandparents are reminded of their age, as they pretend not to be tired. I love them more for it. Shadows and sunshine, taking turns on our faces. We can almost see the city now. We can almost see it all. The best view wasnt at the top of the tower, it wasnt the view you waited in line for and paod $5 to see. A silloutte over a city, silver car waiting for us to finish, the search has just begun. 

home screen. tap tap. instagram. scroll scroll. home button. tap tap. the next snapchat. stories. hold. release. over and over. 

Why do I find so much satisfaction in this mindless task? Is it some form of false connection that I’m craving. Maybe its the perpetual training of my hands to navigate to those places. Maybe it has to do with my turning to social media whenever I want to be distracted or curb my anxiety.

Well it has to stop. I am battling with an addiction to my phone. No meaning, nothing to check, but hours pass as my retinas burn from staring into the tiny screen.

Reality is all around me. There is so much to learn, to explore, to acheive, to clean, to be happy, sad about, to experience, yet my identity is severed by this network ambillical chord.