god is good.

I know that I will look back on these days with vehement nostalgia

the days when I shaped myself into art

on Sanborn avenue, waking up in soft white sheets surrounded by

red roses, a place I could truly call my own:

an apartment with original hardwood floors

in a 1920’s building tucked behind pink and orange flowers

on the quietest street in Silverlake, adorning the walls with my posters

and my spirit, with scotch tape marks and faded polaroids

and a pink velvet lounge chair in the corner -

I want to remember that I always chose beauty over functionality

played jazz as loud as my speakers could bear

made spaghetti bolognese from scratch as often as possible

drank too much wine when I was lonely and feeling particularly human

lit candy colored cigarettes and ashed them where I wanted forever

inching myself closer and closer to pure love and total freedom -

today I gave a homeless man a $10 bill in the grocery store parking lot and as I handed him the money he looked deep into my eyes and said,

“God is good”

and he’s right.