Sometimes, I wish I could stop breathing
for more than a minute.
Because breathing means I'm fighting.
And God, I can't tell you the last time
I thought I had a good reason why.
Maybe it's in my blood.
Maybe it's just a matter of time.
Or maybe, just maybe...
you don't need to have a good reason to fight.

i am grateful of the answer
that i got

"it's okay, if things take time."
the real problem starts, when it stops.

In the depths of my soul, a question does arise.
When will I cease to weave verses about your guise?
For with every breath, your essence fills my pen,
And my words dance in rhythm, again and again.

I wake up to blue light
I see it when I close my eyes

frustrated and weighted by comparison
I filter my intensity
condense my personality
I show tongue and teeth but no failures or flaws

I see you in your squares, in all your glow
I want to see the dirt under your fingernails
want you to see me cry, my pores up close, counting your eyelashes
I don't want to see twenty pictures res of the same sunset
cascading down a feed that never fulfills
shades changed and tweaked at exposure
I am exposed ever day
but am I known
I want to see the world by your side
not through your phone
hear the sunsets reflect in your tone

I don't want to lose a bet with myself that I don't stare I don't scroll
lose my evening to a screen
my life to anxiety of how people see me
but I want to be seen

I want to know you beyond squares
and validation screams content for moments till I review my content
view myself in the eyes of another
a narcissistic shudder
I doubt and judge myself
wishing not to compare not to care
yet impulse is too lovable
addiction and algorithmic luring
habits savaged a daily instinct
to share
to show my life through squares

not just only tell me
to stop hating my body
teach me
how to do it
saying is easy than doing

Confabulation, rise and tell
more than mortal I may ken of wisdom.

The old con, with some trepidation
(feeling
of fear or agitation
about something that
may happen)

steps away from the vehicle, fabualting
holy truth provocation, possibly
even
probably, perhaps, even odds,
I was in violation, due to meditation,

white line fever. No, see.
All my roads have double yellow lines.

I guess I don't know why we don't
do somethings in the road…

I know I learned to say I know
when I am not guessing.