(TW: SH)
That one small piece of metal,
Not even as big as my pinky finger.
Can leave the feeling of honey all across the pale paper of the skin.
Even as I here the soft metal click of the bathroom door,
I hold my knees close to my chest and cry the tears that stayed in the back of my mind.
I open the creaky wooded cabinet,
Like a routine,
I reach in the back.
Hidden between the toilet paper and the memories of a happier time,
I let my arms carve out the words I could never say.
And even when the blood crusts and the tears dry,
I can’t look at the mirror.
I just look down and look at the red run down the sink.
And leave like nothing happened.
Because nothing did.
-Immi
May 22
May 22, 2026 at 11:24 PM UTC
Look at you, look at your routines.
You wake up with a mask that fits tight around your face
Because you know it won’t fit,
But yet you still have it tug at your mouth,
Forever pretending to smile through it.
As you walk out and into the sea of unfamiliar faces that fit the same mask,
You chase even the smallest amount of dopamine to distract yourself, Thinking you’re some main character to a story.
It’s almost cute to see.
But exhausting at the same time.
I used to be the same. I used to think the walls were solid and the sky was absolute.
And that feeling of love or hatred actually meant something.
But once you pull the string, the whole tapestry unravels,
Showing a bare wooden wall.
And to think that this thread held everything just for nothing to be behind it is quite sad.
But what can a powerless, wet, meat sack do about it?
No matter if you tear your vocal cords out screaming into the infinite and cold universe,
You won’t get a call back.
It won’t care if you win, lose, love or die.
You build a whole world around rules and morals just to distract yourself from the truth none want to face because you know your knees will buckle and you will try to say it isn’t true.
But you know in the marrow of your bones that it is true.
Nothing is holding this together.
You are something that decided it and everything around it had worth.
I tried to see what you saw in being you.
The structure, morals, and rules, it's all nothing in the works of the unforgiving universe.
I tried to understand and care, but how do you love a species that clings so desperately to its own illusions?
You don’t want freedom, you want comfort.
For all I care, go scream your problems out into the universe until your throat bleeds, cry over unsaid words, play out the rest of the script.
But remember, while you drown in the world you made,
I am the one sitting outside the frame.
And I am the only one who knows it’s all just silence waiting to happen.
-Immi
May 22
May 22, 2026 at 11:05 PM UTC
Oh what wonders it is to live within the castle gates,
The right hand man to the king.
Doing the work that the King is much to busy for,
Dealing with the people who dare disobey the King.
I bow my head to every noon, morning and evening,
Serving under the crown.
Long live the King!
As out in the center of the kingdom,
It’s a quiet little place.
The guards come round often,
Just to collect the taxes and the criminals.
The people how spread their words are the ones who get taken first.
But it’s nice.
Long live the King.
Out on the far end of the kingdom,
We witness the wars and horrors of the King.
Our brothers and sisters get killed before our every eyes.
The soldiers tax our people more than we can pay,
And steal the food and words straight from our mouths.
And as I write this on the dirt path,
My kin will be next to the silver blade.
Yet the King lives on.
As my feet drag long the cobblestone path,
As the cool metal from the guards freezes my arms,
My head is placed between the two pieces of wood.
As the pull up the blade,
The crowd looks upon me.
And as my voice was about to be silenced,
I decide to speak my last words,
Because maybe my voice didn’t have to die when I did.
“Long live the people who die for freedom.”
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 1:45 PM UTC
Some may never handle the gold promises that lay on the top of their head.
It will change the way you are built all the way to your DNA.
It will shape and twist your mind until there is no right way up.
Some think that there is no way to stop the crown,
But they are wrong.
Only the pure of heart and a soul with kindness may carry.
But beware the masquerade,
For all gold looks the same on a saint,
As it does on a monster.
But the crown becomes to much,
The pressure pulling you down,
All the way,
Till their head explodes,
With the bullets of the people.
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 11:28 AM UTC
And even when the TNT blows me to pieces,
And I’m covered in soot,
I hold the thing you love most,
Close to my heart.
The cool metal spyglass against the fiery flames,
As I close my eyes,
And my memories of us cross my mind.
Your green feathers that fly across the sky,
You were my closest ally,
And my best friend,
Even if I ruined it all,
And you set this trap for me to fall,
I will reach out to your spyglass,
As my last attempt,
To just get close one last time.
And I want to try again,
From a fresh start.
But that’s far too late.
So all I can do is feel my skin burn,
And lay there in the circle,
Holding your spyglass tight.
As I fade away,
And I lose feeling in my limbs,
I still feel the cool metal,
Somewhere on my body.
And it feels quite nice.
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 11:06 AM UTC
Wednesday,
April 6th,
2061.
But that seems like a ways away.
34 years,
10 months,
And 23 days.
And maybe that day,
Ill be in my rocking chair on my porch,
Watching the neighborhood kids play.
And my kids will come home,
From their busy jobs,
And we’ll have a nice dinner.
And we’ll be a happy family.
Or maybe I’ll be alone,
In my tiny apartment,
With my wonderful tabby cat,
And I’ll name her a very unique name.
And we’ll be happy,
On my rocking chair,
Looking out the window.
Or maybe I’ll have a husband,
But no kids,
But we’ll hold each other,
Through the weather we live.
But today was a great day,
So we went out,
And slept under the stars.
And we’ll come back home,
And watched some TV,
On my rocking chair.
And maybe in another,
I’ll be in my chair,
With my children all round,
With my cat,
And my wonderful husband,
As I drift off,
On my swinging rocking chair.
So even though the world might change,
And cars may fly,
And maybe trees have reached the moon,
And languages have shifted,
I will only have one true dream.
To just relax,
On my old rocking chair.
12746 days from today
-Immi
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 1:45 PM UTC
This is for the person who will never read these.
For I know that you will not even care.
I thought you would be there and become close,
When you just disappeared like a ghost.
Now I see you,
In the halls,
Wondering what I did wrong.
But as I look back and realize,
I never even sent my letters.
My deep confessions and happy moments,
Because I thought you did’t care.
All the stories I wanted to say,
And how I loved looking at you everyday.
But now the pile adds up,
And maybe if I sent those letters,
We could be so much better.
But now I drown,
Choking on my words,
Because they never reached your home.
Now the paper is cutting in deep,
I don’t think I can compete.
So now I drown in unsent letters,
Black ink pooling at my feet,
Hoping you’ll come back and read my letters.
But when you do don’t be sad,
For it was my problem the whole time.
It was just a small thing,
That built up,
And now you’re here to clean it up.
As I gasp and grab for air,
You were helping me there.
And now we are close and maybe just this time,
I’ll let you slide by my side.
Because now I know,
That even when it was long ago,
It is never too late to go and try.
So let someone in,
Let them be your light.
And let them help you clear your unsent letters.
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 10:20 PM UTC
The old wooden clock has been clicking since we existed,
Counting down the minutes of the presence of us.
It records the existence of everything that has started until its death,
Even if there are no people to remember.
It holds the lives of you and everyone you hold dear.
And it will keep ticking.
Even when the room turns black
And the clock is destroyed,
The faint, repetitive, tick will still bounce off the walls.
Continuing.
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 10:02 PM UTC
The soft click of a closed door is a secret between the two of us,
A secret you will take to the grave,
But what about me?
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 8:15 PM UTC
I don't like to read out loud.
I stumble and trip over my words,
Making the piece break apart.
But some pieces you don't understand until you speak,
Letting the stories coat your tongue like honey.
Slow,
Thick,
Dripping out to reach others.
And when we reach is when we create new stories.
So although I may dislike it,
It is the true way of showing oneslef.
-Immi
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 5:11 PM UTC