You ask why I carry sadness inside,
why I cling to the colour grey,
why I worry about everything
even now, when everything seems good.
My eyes see colours,
my ears hear warm words,
but I know that behind them
there is the silence they will become.
When pain raises another question,
when I look at the grass turning green,
I ask: will you still stay
when uncertainty appears?
Will bound hands and tangled steps
begin to open layers of tenderness,
or will they become only a burden to you,
an unwanted responsibility
for another life?
How much goodness is in us
while things are still bearable,
and how many will stay in a dark room
to share their light
and their love that cannot be returned?
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 7:48 PM UTC
Why is it that a bite connects,
But verses build a wall?
Why can my mouth enjoy a buffet
Yet ears can't decipher it all?
A taco requires no syntax,
A chorus asks for years.
A curry shares its secrets,
But poetry hides in tears.
Oh, if only words were flavors,
And speech a kind of taste
I’d feast on every language,
Not let a stanza waste.
Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 10:10 AM UTC
In the morning,
I heard a whisper.
It grew louder,
and louder—
louder still.
Then it screamed
in my ears:
“Wake up, sleepyhead!
The Sun is up.”
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 11:09 AM UTC
It needs to rain
We need a great, big river
I wish I could stop the burning
I just want to go outside
I want to go outside but
The firewall is so high
Oil seeps into the soil
Searching for life to soak
It burns what is dry
Consuming all that is living
There is hatred in these flames
Licking at the souls of the loving
It needs to rain
We need a great, big river
I wish I could stop the burning
I just want to go outside
How do I make my way
through the firestorm
the deluge
the vitriolic wave of oil
which seeks me out
to turn me to ash
stripping me of my steady life
and love
They want to **** us. They want to **** us all.
Give me a great, big river
Carry me to safety
I just want to go outside
It needs to rain.
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 10:55 AM UTC
I loved seeing the orange sun buttered on the bellies of the birds
Sunrise poured on mountains run through with black veins
Blushing and growing in a warm shade that betrays the frost
A colour so delirious, the winter morning wears it like an easy romance
A flood of light held in the cold breath and exhaled from the lungs of the valley
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 2:31 PM UTC
There is such a cruel disconnect between that which we feel is true
and truth.
There was a day,
and I don’t know if it’s something I should feel grateful for,
where I was greeted by sunshine and warmth,
kind words,
and smiling friends.
I laughed and sang and danced.
I was excited and fulfilled and happy.
But I was sad,
and I was frustrated,
so, I ran, and I ran fast
to my home and the truth I knew.
I woke up from this midday dream,
a separate truth.
The dawning of my dread and despair
was momentarily masked
as I was forced to face a lover
who was filled
with excitement and gratitude
The truth I knew was sadness
and fear
and burnout
and had grown
into a pervasive despondence.
Inconsolable and out of control.
Depressed and without comfort.
No external validation could ever be enough.
Go to work.
I’ll do my best.
Come home.
I’ll keep pushing.
One week of dishes sitting in the sink.
Two weeks of laundry sitting in the dryer.
Three weeks of mail sitting on the coffee table.
A month and a half since the lost grocery trip.
Always working towards a catharsis which never comes,
I feel foolish as I bridge
the worlds of feeling and knowing,
frightened by an alarming series of
setbacks, unlearning, deprogramming.
What I feel is so disgustingly harsh
to the point it obscures and denies
the truths the universe knows.
God, I desperately wish I could be in the Boston Public Garden
and feel a sense of peace I have not known in years.
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 7:52 PM UTC
***
If to live then by the sea
If to love then today
To be grateful to Fate
To want more don’t be afraid.
If to have then a dignity
Learn to run and to swim
Send to hell, uncertain infinity
Today and now willing to live.
- Poeteia
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 7:04 PM UTC
I am exhausted.
I am broken.
I give and I give,
and no one sees me.
Valentine’s passed like a ghost,
a ring untouched,
a day meant for love
ignored, invisible.
The kids scream, fight, push,
and I am left
to gather the shards
of a house, of myself,
over and over again.
I speak.
I pour my heart out.
And silence is my reply —
cold, deafening, endless.
I feel unwanted,
unseen, unloved,
trapped in a cycle
that never ends.
And yet I exist.
I breathe.
I ache.
I am here.
And even if no one sees,
even if no one cares,
I am real.
I am allowed to feel.
I am allowed to break.
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 12:29 PM UTC
I hold her tight and carry her with my heart
For she is a translator for the love I carry
And cannot share directly
Curated activity and words of wisdom
Flow from my lips and out of hers
So that when you can't hear me, you can hear her
Shared is the innocent existence of uncertain joy
Appreciated by both the observer and the wonderer
Captured in the revitalization of love across space
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 9:15 AM UTC
Depression isn’t sadness.
Sadness passes.
This stays.
It doesn’t knock for attention,
doesn’t cry out loud-
it seeps in,
quiet as floodwater
rising inch by inch
until I’m drowning
in a room that looks dry.
It comes in waves.
Not the kind you watch from shore-
the kind that drag you under
and let you taste the dark.
It is hunger without appetite,
teeth in my ribs,
eating me alive
from the inside out.
It is numbness-
a winter that settles in my bones.
Emptiness-
an echo where a heartbeat should be.
Anxiety-
a siren with no off switch.
My body turns to stone.
Bed becomes gravity.
Every limb weighs a thousand unsaid words.
My muscles ache
like I’ve been fighting a war
no one else can see.
My mind is louder.
Thoughts circle like vultures.
They know my name.
They whisper it sharp.
There are moments
when the urge to disappear
feels softer than staying.
When hurting feels like proof
that I can still feel anything at all.
Vulnerability cracks me open.
I bleed questions:
Does anyone see this?
Does anyone understand?
Does anyone love me
when I am like this?
I want relief-
not applause,
not pity.
Just quiet.
Just one full breath
that doesn’t feel borrowed.
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 9:15 AM UTC