Feeling ruined
Feeling new
Feeling boss
Feeling crew
Feeling sown
Feeling grew
Feeling trumpet
Feeling kazoo
Feeling pumps
Feeling old shoe
Feeling vigor
Feeling flu
Feeling oil
Feel glue
Feeling hospital
Feeling zoo
Feeling erased
Feeling drew
Feeling pious
Feeling taboo
Feeling airplane
Feeling canoe
Feeling tortoise
Feeling Bamboo
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 6:32 PM UTC
If I could sparkle in the sun
And blind the sight of everyone
And for a moment force a pause
As everyone surrendered to my flaws
My cheeks would bloom
My eyes would bud
The warmth would raise my skin
From under mud
Revealing authentic charm
An aura gold and spry
And hard earned humanity
No single soul could reject
Could I accept the moment?
Would it connect?
While every gaze screams “worthy”
Would mine still deflect?
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 6:30 PM UTC
My depression is my ***** kitchen
Sink filled to the brim with ***** dishes
Old food left stuck in waiting
Much like the thoughts in my head,
I have to get water from the bathroom sink,
In theory rinsing them after sounds so easy
But just the thought reminds of the summer I spent working for my dad power washing old fences.
My depression is my unbrushed hair thrown in a bun everyday
Knots left stuck in waiting
Much like the thoughts in my head,
I tell people I do the same thing because I’m not good at doing hair but I used to love it,
In theory running a brush through it sound so easy
But just the thought reminds me of when I sprained both my wrists and my body starts to twinge
My depression is the fake teeth stuck in my mouth
Because self destruction was never an
Option
Now it’s become another excuse to avoid connection
Much like the thoughts in my head
I tell people I’m shy
I tell people I don’t have much in common with anyone else
But in my head we’ve become best friends
My depression is the outside stillness
Because the unmatched chaos in my head leaves no energy for much else
It’s being tired after I’ve slept
It’s being hopeless after my personal church
It’s being trapped after another hand touches mine
It’s being mute with a series of novels to speak
It’s anesthesia awareness
It’s not being in a dungeon but being the dungeon itself
It’s being in a glass box all filled with water but a corner left of air
I’m pressed up against to breathe but keep gulping in water
Knowing it’s just a matter of time
Feb 2, 2020
Feb 2, 2020 at 2:25 PM UTC
I hear your name every day
Against my will
Sometimes it starts in the morning
After a dream
Sometimes not long after waking up
In the songs I listen to while I drink my tea
Sometimes on licenses plates
Because it’s such a short ******* name
Sometimes being called out in the streets
Because it’s such a common ******* name
Sometimes buzzing in my brain
Honey soaked name
Sticks to the folds of my gray matter
While the white waits around for its weekly drip
Sometimes your name feels like Voldemort
Sometimes your name feels like a Crucifix
Sometimes your names feels like a direction
Sometimes your names feels like a 404 error
Sometimes your name feels like a bag around my head
Sometimes your name feels like a stepping stone
Sometimes your name feels like medicine
Sometimes your name feels like a sickness
Sometimes your name feels like home
Sometimes your name feels like an anti-hero
Sometimes your name feels like deprivation
Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 11:45 AM UTC
Just thinking about being open to someone makes my body cringe
A harsh tingle curves my spine
And that’s just the reaction
To my mind
In real life all traces of attention and focus
Run away from me
And the sides of my eyes tinge black
If boldness was full bodied
I’d be a paper doll
All I can do is change outfits
Maybe add a new do
A nice winter scarf
Your favorite pair of my shoes
Little hints
Of something with dimensions
But nothing more
Rip me up when you start to see
The creases, the wrinkles
Maybe donate me to someone underprivileged
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 4:07 AM UTC
Love me without motive
Fill me not with void
When we spoon
Grasp me when your non dominant hand
So when your knife fingers cut right through me
Your aim isn’t as accurate
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 12:35 AM UTC
Where have you been my poet friend?
My forest without trees
My honey ***
With its side cracked
Repelling all the bees
Where have you gone?
My unfinished song
My note without a tune
My secret long unkept
Lyrically eating with a spoon
In your absence
I’ve cleaned trash from streets
Planted and picked a garden of lovely sweets
And even felt the kiss of eternal peace
But still I speak
to the aberration in the room
Forthwith forthright
Shaken by my runes
I leave a trail of crumbs
Leading to my tomb
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 3:20 PM UTC
Georgette wrinkled by force
And will
Spun by universal magnet
Small space between sets of finger tips
Open a room woozy and uncertain
A reunion grasped right and held close
A team of hips sway in rudimentary crass
sartorius pronouncements like that of fine tongue
Linger in wisps of flair
Elegant syncopation lifts the heaviest of airs
And
chaînés chaînés chaînés chaînés
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 7:10 PM UTC
If you want to get to know me
Don’t speak
I’ve placed myself here
With elegant intention
In observation
In purpose
Your un-will
Has met mine
And they have entangled
To create new
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 7:08 PM UTC
I ate your truth
Of fermented fruit
It left me dizzy in a sense of self
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 7:53 PM UTC