I can make love out of nothing.
Anything.
Weave it from straws
Cut and paste
With breadcrumbs.
I can paper mache
all the lies you told me.
I can make love out of nothing
and turn it into my next thing
for the time being.
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 8:07 PM UTC
Plastic makes perfect
Paper faces mean
We are made of origami
And it's beginning to get to me
Don't ever go
Little adventures all over the floor
Strewn about in pieces like us
Kid brother in arms
Drove the pain away
With a needle and a gun
Mum and dad
Of the assumption
Today's forgetfulness
Will be tomorrow's absolution
Words and snow
Against the window
Under the diecast arrows
Conspicuously absent
But our toy box full
Don't ever go
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 8:00 PM UTC
Wet expressions wept down her face
Each tear ran down like an endless race
Until disappearing in invisible space
Her voice shook as she tried to explain
Why her eyes began to rain
What oppression has caused this depression
What began this pain?
"You have to want to change."
She remembered another exchange
And in other conversations about the same thing
She thought it was strange because
Someone else near and dear said you will never WANT to move
As much as you need to
You just have to get up and do.
Another said you have to want it in order to change
She wanted to speak up to herself and to others but...
She had always thought it was beyond her range
In the counselor´s office comfort was sinking sand
She saw that family around her stood on the rock
Was that why she wasn't steady?
In the auditorium which everything felt louder than ever
He (her friend) asked, "Are you ready?"
Then she looked in her heart, and her heart it was heavy
She asked (herself), "Are you ready?"
She responded ¨Yes.¨
But that answer sounded more like a guess
Then he asked "Are you sure you're ready?"
Feb 17
Feb 17, 2026 at 12:40 AM UTC
The train pulled away slowly, its wheels grinding against the tracks like the ache in my chest. I stood on the platform, motionless, watching you evaporate into a future I would no longer share. The wind, cold and indifferent, swept across my face, but it was the silence you left behind that chilled me to the bone.
We were never just a moment; we were a melody soft, tragic, beautiful. You taught me how to breathe in laughter and exhale fear. You turned ordinary days into poetry, yet here I am, reciting the final stanza alone.
I did not choose to unlove you no, love isn’t so obedient. But life has a cruel rhythm, and sometimes, even the most heartfelt symphony must play its last note. I carry the weight of you, tucked somewhere between memory and longing, hoping time can be reversed.
Leaving you behind isn’t forgetting. It’s surviving. And while my heart still echoes your smile, I walk away not because I want to, but because love, true love, sometimes means knowing when to let go
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 9:13 PM UTC
White tees. Tank tops. Bare arms.
Thoughts trail backwards—
my thinking cap worn in reverse.
I reach for a verse.
...but my Bible
is well-dressed in dust.
Some days I wear faith
like a sweatshirt— soft at first,
until pressure pulls at every fibre
and I want it off.
Peeling pride from my chest
should feel freeing—
...instead, I feel naked
in ways fabric never fixed.
Rags & Expensive tags —
another kind of poor.
Time wears us all thin, while we
keep wearing life’s heavy clothes—
stitched with ego, tailored by fear.
Dressed to survive.
...quietly undressed by truth.
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 9:12 PM UTC
give god a name
and you know truth
give god a form
and you've seen truth
build god a house
and you know where truth lives
sell that house
and you own truth
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 6:42 PM UTC
I hate you.
There,
it rots on my tongue
like spoiled fruit
I was forced to swallow whole.
You built a house out of smoke
and called it love.
I learned to breathe
through fire.
My chest is a locked room
where alarms never shut off.
Anxiety hums in the walls,
a fluorescent flicker
that never goes dark.
You planted confusion
like weeds in wet soil.
Now every memory grows crooked.
I hate you
for teaching my heart
that affection
is a prelude to impact.
For wiring my nerves
to flinch at footsteps.
For making silence
sound like a threat.
Depression drapes itself over me
like heavy velvet:
thick, suffocating, theatrical.
Attachment claws at my ribs.
Separation burns.
Love feels like standing
too close
to the edge
of something collapsing.
You were never going to change.
That is the sharpest thing.
Not the shouting.
Not the fracture.
Not the aftermath.
The permanence.
The fossil of you
pressed into the sediment
of my becoming.
I hate you
and I still love you,
which is the cruelest architecture
you ever built inside me.
I carry your echo
like a cracked mirror:
every reflection distorted,
every future
splintered.
I hate you.
And I hate
that it hurts, this
much to
say it.
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 6:38 PM UTC
I poured it on my face
and over my head
like I was pouring a jar of oil.
Bowing my head, it dripped off me
as if I had poured out pure nard,
olive oil,
myrrh,
out of broken alabaster
on my knees, in tears,
wiping the surface with my hair.
My head stayed bowed
my knees were a thorny crown
on the ground,
I drew near it
and tried to draw it to me
in the palm of my hand
but it moved through my hand
like a ghost
while leaving a wet impression
on the lines of my identity.
Pure, powerful,
it escaped my hold yet stayed with me,
for now I was clean.
Water.
I looked into his face as he reflected mine
back to me.
I was close to this pool because my heart was powdered and purple.
I looked inside the pool and saw my eyes,
red and lived in,
I drew near,
like I was about to sip
or baptize my face
but instead I mumbled a still whisper -
a prayer I wanted no other ear to hear
yet my lips were pressed
on the surface of the pool as if they'd collapsed on an ear;
longing to pour myself whole inside that which I feared,
and I said,
"Water?"
"How do you persevere?"
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 10:47 PM UTC
Is it true that the silence is louder tonight,
stretched thin across the miles of wire?
I can hear your breath, a ghost of light,
flickering low like a dying fire.
Do you hold the phone to your other ear
to hide the sound of what I fear?
Is it true that the map has grown so wide,
and the ink has bled on the lines we drew?
There is nowhere left for us to hide
from the distance that is swallowing you.
Your voice is a tether, frayed and old.....
is it still a hand for me to hold?
Is it true that you’re looking at the same pale moon,
but seeing a sky I no longer know?
You say that you’ll be coming home soon,
but your heart is already starting to go.
Is the "I love you" just a habit now,
a broken promise, a hollow vow?
Is it true that the room where you’re standing is cold,
or is it just the way that you’re speaking?
There are stories left in us, yet to be told,
but the foundation is tired and creaking.
Tell me the truth, even if it cuts deep....
is this a secret you’re tired to keep?
Is it true that you’re memorizing my face
from a photograph kept on a digital screen?
Because I can feel every inch of this space,
and the heavy, dark ocean that’s sitting between.
Are we just echoes of who we once were,
lost in a static, a frantic blur?
Is it true that you wake in the middle of dark
and reach for a side of the bed that is bare?
Or have you extinguished the very last spark
and found a new comfort in nobody there?
Is the ghost of my pillow a weight or a grace?
Can you still find my name in that empty space?
Is it true that the words are getting harder to find,
like stones at the bottom of a frozen well?
I am searching the labyrinth of your mind,
trying to break through this quiet spell.
Are we talking just to keep from the end,
or are you still my lover, my life, and my friend?
Is it true that you’re scared of the person I’ve become,
now that I’ve learned how to live on my own?
The beat of my heart is a different drum
than the one that you knew when the seeds were first sown.
Do you love the woman I am today,
or the one that the distance has carried away?
Is it true that there’s someone else in the room,
even if they are only a thought in your head?
Is there a flower beginning to bloom
in the garden we left, that I thought was dead?
Give me the mercy of being unkind....
don’t leave me waiting, and lonesome, and blind.
Is it true that you’re still on the other end,
or am I just talking to the wind and the wire?
I am waiting for a signal for us to transcend,
to pull our two souls from this circling pyre.
Is it true that you’re coming? Is it true we survive?
Are we still, after all of this, truly alive?
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 10:45 PM UTC
I learned to be quiet
not because I had nothing to say
but because every time I spoke
my feelings felt like a burden in the room
So I swallowed them
like pills that never healed anything
People think sadness cries loud
but mine was polite
it waited
it let others go first
it smiled
it said “it’s okay”
even when it wasn’t
I think the worst kind of pain
is the one that keeps you functioning
You still wake up
still answer
still show up
still breathe
But inside
everything already fell apart
I have memories that don’t feel like memories
they feel like bruises
you don’t see
but flinch when touched
Sometimes I miss old versions of myself
like they died
and nobody came to the funeral
There was a me that laughed easier
trusted quicker
slept without overthinking
loved without fear
I don’t know where that person went
Maybe life slowly erased them
like waves taking names off sand
The nights are the hardest
when the world gets quiet
and there’s nothing to distract me
from the ache of being here
Not wanting to disappear
just wanting the hurt
to loosen its grip
for one night
Just one night
where my chest doesn’t feel heavy
for no clear reason
I got good at pretending
it’s a talent nobody claps for
I know how to smile
with tired eyes
how to joke
with a breaking voice
how to say “I’m fine”
like it’s the truth
But sometimes
I wish someone would look at me
and say
“You don’t have to be strong right now.”
Because being strong
all the time
is the loneliest thing
I’ve ever done
And maybe that’s the saddest part
Not the tears
not the pain
But how quietly
I carried it
so nobody else had to.
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 7:05 PM UTC