nicotine pillow pricks keeping me calm
and the sweet song of sky lifts me up and beyond
I’m dreaming of you
or the you that I want,
and their soft hands, soft lips
guiding me on.
spontaneity is key,
and I’m kind of high,
and it’s moments like these:
that scare me
and gulp me
and help me get by

tropical weather makes for terrible writing

sans mute, brooding clouds

and soul-filling cold,

what is a writer to do?

for God knows our air

must match our despair,

so our words can be dark and deep too.

how must we write

when our heart is alight

with the tropical sea’s pale blue hues?

or the sun glistening down

like a heavenly crown,

washing our minds anew

sins must we write,

and take joy in the rite

of pencils singing the blues

for if we stopped,

we’d lose our excuse

to be sad,

and depressed,

and acknowledge that truth.




exit (a poem by kelly page)

the first time i stepped

out of my window, onto the roof

i started with just one foot,

to see if it could hold my weight.


i found that the slats were solid,

and did not ripple under me

so i walked out into the sky.

humid air ran through the window


over my head and moved my curtains:

a spirit making herself known

which had been quiet in my heart

for too long. we flew away.

fear talk


it’s a strange feeling when the world is at your fingertips, and all you can be is afraid.

i am going to a fantastic school in a city i love, with family and friends at close call. i will be challenged, motivated, and inspired, given a chance to engage in the city of Baltimore, and placed in a track for a top-notch career. i’ll be around intellectual people where my interests and passion won’t be seen as strange, but rather accepted as part of a eclectic, smart, and diverse group of humans. in theory, i’m going to my dream school.

so why the f*ck am i scared?

luckily for you, the anxious brain enjoys picking the brain for these kinds of thoughts, so some answers to that question prevail.

i’m not usually one for cliches, but the short and sweet adage “too much of a good thing” has been on the mind lately, particularly in the context of the social atmosphere i’ll be entering.

feeling out of place in high school is, admittedly, something I’ve come to savor. i’ve spent the last four years unabashedly embracing my passions and personality, even when they don’t fit my idea of the social norm. my intentions were good, but they led me down a narcisstic path. feeling like i was somehow different from my peers made me feel like a special little snowflake, and i liked the attention of wielding an intellect and passion that i viewed as beyond the norm.

but where i’m headed, being smart and passionate is nothing special. this doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing– passion and intellect is accepted and embraced with open arms, and if anything, expected from your peers. this means that i likely won’t be the odd one out–instead, what’ll be odd about the situation is the fact that i might not like that.

in all aspects, I am fearing change. what if I decide I no longer love the environment? will I like being in a city? will I lose my love for learning because I care too much about grades? will people like me? will I like myself?

truthfully, I don’t know. but at this point, I must embrace fear and move forward.

I am going to a place I love, and I am afraid.

but change is good–

at least, that’s what they say.







i like the way it feels when the liquid

of coarsed, crush life

flows beneath my veins.


the brown and bitter

that’s sweet when it swirls

and on the right kind of day makes my

soul whirl.


it makes my brain fuzzy

and my life go in spurts,

and write weird poems like this

as the coffee buzz flows



lazy writing

My writing process is like the highly caffeinated version of myself–full of great ideas, but possessing the attention span and consistency of a fruit fly. To witness this in action, here are some notebook excerpts from times where a sentence or two of writing was all my brain and body could take.
  • Picture a scaled dragon– or maybe an alligator, or a fish, or whatever scaled, mystically intriguing animal your heart desires. Now picture its scales as having an explosively pastel, translucent, and iridescent quality. Take your image of these scales, and transport them into a round, glossy eye ball, and there you have it– the dome that lies above my head.


  • fuck the fact that   _________

(i didn’t finish my sentence. fill it in with what you need to. some possible options: “burritos are not free”, “guac costs extra money”, “my tortilla holding my burrito together collapsed”, or anything else regarding the food that is a sacred lump of Mexican flavors and deliciousness. )


  • I love how in the song “The Sun” by Portugal. The Man, there’s such an acceptance/celebration (for lack of better words) of the big, humbling nature of the universe and the natural world. Good indie music + vague scientific connotations= mentally happy alex.


  • I’m good at beginnings.

(to prove my point, I decided to just leave it at that)


and finally, with multiple appearances in my notebook…

  • “I cannot focus on physics right now.”

Truer words have never been spoken– or, in this case, written. peace out, homies.