my attic

When I was eight years old
I practiced every day.

I practiced every day
and I'm not just talking about piano.

I practiced smiling in the mirror.
I practiced walking from my chair to the drinking fountain.
I practiced spelling words and flirting with boys
I practiced speaking out loud
and being unapologetic.

I practiced wishing,
wishing for things.

Wishing for an attic
or a treehouse.
Wishing for a place to call my own.
a place to grow up.
to grow out.

and now I'm here.

I've grown up.
I've outgrown
my attic, and my practicing,
and everything that used to feel like me.

So I'll move to Provo,
and I'll buy my own groceries
and I won't cry while I do it.

And maybe I'll find my attic.

b&w

everything is people

This is something I've wanted to do for a long time, and now that I'm moving out in five months I found the time.

A work in progress.  Frames are next.

Rooms. (An Anis Mojgani Mashup.)

If there is a room inside of me

There was a window in the bedroom.

with your name written in it

Her bed was beneath it. In the afternoon with the lamp off

the language it is written in is a lovely one.

we stretched on the mattress.

One of figs and birds

Sometimes touching each other, sometimes not.

and beaches the color of butter.

Sometimes our fingers just lingered,

The walls blue, and at least one of them 

made from nothing but windows.

the day laying across us and the walls,

Another has shelves of speckled stones.

the color of the walls mixing

with the sun's dead empty light.

The light pours across the floors

It made everything in the room white.

and the trees outside

burn with song.

Soft. Open.

That's what I remember.

tell me about love.

tell me about it.

tell me about the way you speak to your mother

and her mother

tell me about the things you're glad you did

and the things you wish you hadn't.

tell me about your future 

and mine.

tell me about the way you eat a sandwich

and whether or not you think you'll live to see 100.

take me to your favorite place

and tell me about it.

tell me why you cried that thursday night

and why you tried not to.

tell me coke or pepsi.

tell me how you hold the steering wheel

so i can do the same.

because somehow i think we'd be close to holding hands.

teach me how to drive a stick-shift

and laugh at me when i cant.

tell me about your dreams 

and ill tell you mine.

because the wick is burning low

and love is a shout into the void

and ill tell you how my hand feels empty without yours

and my heart feels full when yours opens.

ill tell you why you scare me.

ill ask you why you love me.

and you'll tell me about it.

Bloom Twins - Talk To Me | Sofar London

Because this isn't my style.

But I'm such a fan.

Project #1: The Process

let us begin

scribbles on scribbles

  

frustration

an interrupting proposal <3

hours later

MIC DROP