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The Creature Wears your Face
The Creature Wears your Face
Written July 19th, 2025
Why not greet the creature with a thousand voices and a million new featuresFor a monthly fee it can be your teacher, your preacher
Sure its steals its artbut its to give the creature its heartSure its devours energy and waterbut the plastic prophets have fossil fuels to offer
After all, its so convenient,Your personal jarvis, alexa, GPT assistantJust beware your choicesFor the creature greets the next sorry soul with 1001 voices.
Sure its steals its artbut its to give the creature its heartSure its devours energy and waterbut the plastic prophets have fossil fuels to offer
After all, its so convenient,Your personal jarvis, alexa, GPT assistantJust beware your choicesFor the creature greets the next sorry soul with 1001 voices.
The silicon saviors made your brain brittle.So start with a neurolink and upgrade little by littleShave off your noose and swap eyes with a hospital backroom whittle
And not long after machine minds came the partially metal men,looking ever less human with each new gen, parents even paid their kid’s steel and silicon smiles by the age of ten
At first, the inhuman features were rare,but next plastic lizard limbs and wired in feeding tubes could be found everywhere.Cornerstores sold screen arms with spider jointed limbsAnd so humanity joined its creature, on your convieience whim
Undergrad Graduation Party???
Undergrad Graduation Party???
Written June 15th, 2025
In all those years suffering through therapy and middle school tyrannyNever once did it occur to meThat math is what I’d study,And that someday I’d find myself happy
That somehow, I’ll quite like this quite life I’ve made. Not the accolades or constantly getting laid 😎😎, but the quiet mundane: plain walks in the rain I take again and again while arranging abstract hyperplanes.
I never dreampt this is how the pieces of my life would fall But when I recall the unhappiness of when I was small,Before all my success at DePaulI think of the incredible people that helped me grow so tall.My heart is simply filled with such love and gratitude—thank you and I love you all❤️❤️
That somehow, I’ll quite like this quite life I’ve made. Not the accolades or constantly getting laid 😎😎, but the quiet mundane: plain walks in the rain I take again and again while arranging abstract hyperplanes.
I never dreampt this is how the pieces of my life would fall But when I recall the unhappiness of when I was small,Before all my success at DePaulI think of the incredible people that helped me grow so tall.My heart is simply filled with such love and gratitude—thank you and I love you all❤️❤️
Selfie taken in my freshman dorm bathroom in Ozanam Hall the day I turned 18 (above).
Pirates and Planets
Pirates and Planets
Written April 6, 2023, my last day of childhood*
Was I really just too optimistic?I really thought I’d be OdysseusI was going to be mysterious and party like Dionysus,but maybe I was oblivious to what was really realistic.Is growing up realizing I can’t do it all? That my time here issimply too finite—80 years, if I’m lucky?
I was going to be this capricious pirate, a pilot, a tyrant.I was going to start riots and protest for the climate.I was going to be a delinquent, a scoundrel, a hero, an outlaw.I wanted to be a mystic, stylistic, a novelist, an anarchist.I’d wake a refined aristocrat and be Robin Hood by noon.I’d have been an actor, an artist, an animal handler, and an astronaut.
I’d be the smartest. I’d talk like stardust, and walk with lustI’d write poems and insist hijinks always be a must.I’d be the center of focus, a famous dissenter, a notorious offender.I'd prove the Riemann Hypothesis the Collatz conjectures easily, and get mai tais after.
But to the great thiefs called time and decay, must I surrender?Is this it? Work away my life--seeing friends at the fringes and sleeping in when I'm old? What no one seemed to understand is that I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ddo it all—that I’d be the first child to walk on Mars,the greatest pianist to have ever lived, president of the free world, and the solver of every millennium problem.
And you know what? I still might.80 years is 4,160 weeks. That's 29,120 days, which is 698,880hours, 41,932,800 minutes, or 2,515,968,000 seconds packed tothe brink with adventure. Whoever said that’s not long enough tosail the skies, raise the seas, move mountains, live in the Amazon, and lead arevolution misplaced their creativity and breathed no life intotheir dreams.
After all, there’s still wine to taste, treasure to find, physics tostudy, medicine to learn, languages to know, disciplines tomaster, tragedies to mourn, people to meet, heartbreak to feel,eyes to swim in, trees to climb, friends to make, art toshare, and so many more adventures to be had.
Take my hand and come with me for the ride of a lifetime. Otherwise, you’ll see me in the stars, the news, and the history books.
I was going to be this capricious pirate, a pilot, a tyrant.I was going to start riots and protest for the climate.I was going to be a delinquent, a scoundrel, a hero, an outlaw.I wanted to be a mystic, stylistic, a novelist, an anarchist.I’d wake a refined aristocrat and be Robin Hood by noon.I’d have been an actor, an artist, an animal handler, and an astronaut.
I’d be the smartest. I’d talk like stardust, and walk with lustI’d write poems and insist hijinks always be a must.I’d be the center of focus, a famous dissenter, a notorious offender.I'd prove the Riemann Hypothesis the Collatz conjectures easily, and get mai tais after.
But to the great thiefs called time and decay, must I surrender?Is this it? Work away my life--seeing friends at the fringes and sleeping in when I'm old? What no one seemed to understand is that I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ddo it all—that I’d be the first child to walk on Mars,the greatest pianist to have ever lived, president of the free world, and the solver of every millennium problem.
And you know what? I still might.80 years is 4,160 weeks. That's 29,120 days, which is 698,880hours, 41,932,800 minutes, or 2,515,968,000 seconds packed tothe brink with adventure. Whoever said that’s not long enough tosail the skies, raise the seas, move mountains, live in the Amazon, and lead arevolution misplaced their creativity and breathed no life intotheir dreams.
After all, there’s still wine to taste, treasure to find, physics tostudy, medicine to learn, languages to know, disciplines tomaster, tragedies to mourn, people to meet, heartbreak to feel,eyes to swim in, trees to climb, friends to make, art toshare, and so many more adventures to be had.
Take my hand and come with me for the ride of a lifetime. Otherwise, you’ll see me in the stars, the news, and the history books.
*technifically, I became an adult in 2018 at my Bar Mitzvah.
If You Could See Me Now
If You Could See Me Now
Written Sunday, January 28 2025, the second day of a National Physics Conference
I tour national laboratories, gazing wide-eyed with your eyesI travel the country, speaking at conferences with your voice I build community, teaching my friends your card gamesI excel in school, channeling your work ethicI persevere, embodying your mental fortitude,And I love with all the heart you gave me
When I am sick and my body fights the infection or I bite my lip in worry and blood starts to clot, I know it’s because you’re in me, fighting.Any time I love myself, it’s you loving me through my blood, bones, veins, and spiritensuring I am cared for, ensuring I go on.
I am not self-conscious that my right eye opens just slightly more than my left,because you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and your right eye opened just slightly more than your left.I love with your gaze and cry through your eyes.
The comfort of finding your trace in me only makes me miss you more.I miss you in each game of cards and in each warm day with a gentle breeze.I miss you in each loving hug and witty remark.I miss you in each family gathering, hearing your accent in Paul’s and your soothing words in Mom’s.
Occasionally, I sit out on some patio and close my eyes. I feel the sun on my face and a gentle breeze grasping my arms. On special days, if I listen really close and concentrate so deeply, I can almost hear your voice telling me, “It is what it is,” and asking, “What can you do?” A silent and peaceful pause comes, and we both take in the beautiful day. A lazy gust of wind comes by, bringing the familiar rush of palm trees--your words still, and forever, hanging in the air, "I love you, a bushel and a peck."
I miss you terribly, Ellie
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