how can i
trust in the
universe
when it does
not trust
me.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 12:55 PM UTC
it's funny how
we use the word "alien"
to describe unearthly beings.
for what is more unearthly than
statues
staring at
screens
screaming for
serotonin, only for
sounds of
suffering to
satiate one's
supple hunger of
scattering from the
space that
surrounds their
ceaseless thoughts from
sprinting away.
scapegoating the innocent,
sympathizing with the guilty.
society seems to be
spreading this
sickness, turning our
sisters and brothers into
aliens.
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 2:44 PM UTC
they looked at each other,
unfeeling.
as if the cold washed away
the remnants of all
they had left.
their eyes cast shadows
darker than the night sky.
barely lighter than death
itself.
just once,
they wished the cage would open
revealing the daemons and gods
alike.
a finger brushed against the
leather glove, a silent prayer in it's wake.
a thin barrier, yes.
it was enough.
what would the world look like, if
the glove needn't had to cover
the skin
of the fallen?
Dec 20, 2025
Dec 20, 2025 at 5:49 PM UTC
Does my clarinet
blame herself
when she
screeches?
I asked her โ
careful
not to press
the wrong buttons.
She hummed along,
nodded
like a good girl.
(๐๐ฉ๐บ ๐ช๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต?)
Iโm the one
who blows
down her throat,
pressing keys
until she forgets
how to breathe.
Her voice cracked โ
guilt hung in the air
like smoke.
"๐ช ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฆ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ต ๐ช๐ฏ,"
she whispered.
"๐ฎ๐บ ๐ท๐ฐ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ."
I strike her notes harder.
She chokes out bits,
broken pieces
that only make me angrier.
Your wheezing is because
youโre fragile.
Cheap.
Not because of me.
(...๐ณ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต?)
"๐ช ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ข๐ถ๐ต๐ช๐ง๐ถ๐ญ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ,"
she sobbed.
And I
almost told her โ
๐๐ผ๐ ๐ฎ๐น๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ ๐ฑ๐ผ.
But the truth
lodged in my throat,
behind the breath
that made her scream.
Jun 15, 2025
Jun 15, 2025 at 10:33 PM UTC
bitter truths
taste sweeter
than lies
dipped in honey
Apr 16, 2025
Apr 16, 2025 at 5:50 PM UTC
The crack in the sidewalk is my only comfort.
We've become friends overtime,
I tell her about the bottles and beer cans,
so lost I forget about the aches and pains.
She knows it's bad when I'm quiet.
I sit with the dark and listen to my sobs echo,
the rain can't drown out my thoughts.
The crack in the sidewalk is my only comfort.
Sometimes I go weeks without seeing her,
my identity drifts softly away with the tide.
Confused, I am too weak to find ground,
maybe it's best I cannot be saved.
The water leads me to my friend,
I shiver yet I cannot feel the cold.
She tells me that she's here for me,
the crack in the sidewalk is my only comfort.
Apr 13, 2025
Apr 13, 2025 at 12:33 PM UTC