Through Daylight

Chase scene assignment from last semester.



Let me drift just at least for the next few weeks
without any clarity, existing free of consciousness
to forget why I am doubtful and try to move on.
I’ll abandon my options and give myself to moments

of a scene that I created while off wandering
inside myself.
I wish I could believe it but I know that it’s not real.
The sounds of

the voices that haunt my sleep
are changing a part of me
and their only interest
is need for an author
but I don’t know if I want that

If I could reshape myself
and lack what I fear the most
would I be more honest,
regain motivation,
and learn to just let things go?

and I’m done with holding on
to the ones that I barely know
and I recognize my progress but I
just need to feel at home

I don’t know why
I can’t be strong anymore

It would be nice to live
without the need
to be conscious
of every word I speak aloud.
Most times
I’d rather just not speak at all


Broken Branch by a Stream/Goldfish (Script)

Broken Branch by a Stream/Goldfish

Through the events that spawn during a car ride, a father and son slowly reveal pieces of their dysfunctional family.

An Introduction

Streaks of sunlight peaked over some old apartment building with dull concrete walls. Their light spilled down through blinds on a window of the house adjacent. Its warmth was subtle, but came through strong enough to spark a waking reaction in the mind of a young man who had, in recent months, been as worn out as the weathered building that was framed so perfectly through his window. Still fixed shut as he woke up, his eyes ached from a sharp beam of light on his face. Not a moment had passed before he heard, from his second floor room, faint sounds coming from downstairs and became overwhelmed. In that instant he heard the increasing loudness of footsteps up the stairs. Moaning, he pushed up with an arm and stretched out the soreness in his neck, anticipating a knock on the door. Usually the last to wake up, he was often stirred from of a night’s sleep by the annoying sound of knuckles on that old wood. Looking towards it, he felt a change of pressure in his head, reminded of last night’s events. A subtle feeling of regret set in as he thought about the time wasted here, in this room that never inspired much more than sleep. The feeling quickly passed, not strong enough to excite the guilt that seemed to haunt him lately. It lingered inexplicably throughout the past few months like the pile of trash that had been been sitting in the back yard for almost a week. The house’s normal dynamic was thrown off by tension in the air. School was becoming hectic and distance had proved to be the best way to prevent conflict between roommates, though he didn’t mind it and even felt some relief. It was a good excuse to be distant which, lately seemed to be the only appealing thing about living away from home. One of the major perks, he felt, of having done so.
A high pitched crash sounded from the other room and the footsteps receded back down the stairs. Judging by the tone of sound he guessed it was a glass. He turned towards the clock on the wall and thought Shit… 10:30 and upon a closer listen, subtle fragments of sentences reached his ears from the room below. He could conclude nothing about the words’ meaning. An unexpected anxiety gripped him as he noticed the sun, it having made a surprisingly considerable amount of progress on its gradual ascent. The changing of seasons made the days seem shorter though the opposite was becoming true. Lately life had felt strange in a way that it never had before, and time slipped away at a surprising rate. A week’s worth of memories became a blur of sleepless nights where events all seemed to feed off one anther. It was roughly sixty five degrees on this day, March 23rd, and winter was on its last leg. The sky was dense with clouds but their formations were choppy, scattered with the sun moving swiftly behind them and casting an array of striking yellow lines through the air. He bent down a part of the cheap metal shade over his window and caught a glimpse of something wonderful that spawned from this effect, but it disappeared as quickly as he knew the day itself would. It goes so fast he thought, too lazy to think any deeper as he got up and walked out of his room, making the descent upon creaking wood of an old staircase that led him into the morning.

Exploration of Nature through Image Compositing

In my recent video production class we were given an assignment that required us to explore the different uses of image composting. Defined by its dependance on strong visual composition, this style of editing heightening my preexisting interest in using nature, particularly water, as a thematic component in my films. Constant fluctuation and lacking any formal shape are physical elements of nature that have influenced me to look harder and find ways of using them creatively. This video was a way for me to focus less on formal storytelling and more on increasing my eyes’ ability to find visually pleasing compositions in a natural setting.

short song

made a short song today


There’s a weakness in my knees threatening them to bend

and I can feel the air push harder, never slowing down.

It’s eating up the skin and breaking every bone I’ve lost.

Worn out and overwhelmed, the air, it’s got no sound.

It’s cold and sharp enough inside my head to give me scars.

The windows look discolored in the sun.

Slow shadows move along the frame.

No light could ever fix these broken parts.

Borderline Films

Great interview with the guys from Borderline films about Martha Marcy May Marlene and their general film making process.



New Mallard Lyrics

Lyrics to a couple of new Mallard songs that might be released sometime soon.


Closer to Camden

these memories are not receding
when im alone i always let them get the best of me
they collect the words in my ears
and change them so i don’t feel haunted
for this whole year

ill just pretend that there is meaning
in every word that anyone has ever said to me
so that when i leave i can feel
that some part of me was important

these memories are not receding
when im alone i always let them get the best of me
they become the words that i fear
telling me the truth is harmless
and that im safe here

as soon as im no longer breathing
ill be here, worn out, and contemplating what you said to me
it’ll sound the same to my ears
but give me a new reason for which
i will live here

these thoughts wear through my patience
making me senseless
im full of a feeling that echoes loudly
with importance


Ollie Over Marley

these stomach pains
created by of my lack of faith
in the hollow part of my chest
make me feel so weak.

when your hand moves across me
like wind through the trees
the clouds move slow,
white, like my cracking bones.

im not safe here at all

only with you,
understanding when i say
that im lost.
for once id like to feel comfort in arms
other than yours.
maybe my own so that i don’t
wish i was gone.

my heads filled with thoughts

that i can’t ignore. (now)
the time that it takes for me to find a place

where ill be alone

is making it so hard

to finally realize that its all my fault. (now)
im grabbing at my only chance to be strong but how

will you make me see these thoughts
I have embodied in myself?