If you love someone,
You'd wait.
The moonlight would bless your skin,
As you curled up intertwined,
'The one for me,'
You'd murmur
And your love would smile,
As your words mean more than a shiver of pleasure.
The touch of your hand against their chest,
The heart beating steadily under your ear,
The curve of lips against your shoulder,
The soft, breathless chuckle followed by a smile that could **** you,
The colour of eyes, either dark or light, but always filled with messages.
If you love someone,
You'd wait for them,
You'd apologise ahead of time,
You'd do what it takes to keep them,
Their smiles,
Their laughter.
Only the sweetest ambrosia was this feeling,
Loving so hard your heart would ache when they weren't around.
When you love someone,
You'd hope to catch up if you're behind.
Love, can I..
..Still catch up to you?
The words you so desire to speak out loud.
Sometimes they're the ones behind,
So you'll wait for them,
Pause in the street for them to jog up to you,
Wait with your children, for the years to come and for them to return.
Like a soldier after war,
Like a sailor loving you after months at sea,
You'd wait patiently,
But would they wait?
If you're behind,
If it were you fought those wars,
Would they wait?
Love doesn't need to be gifts and giant gestures.
It's waiting.
Waiting despite the years,
Until you're both skeletons buried together beneath the soil,
With stones above that say your names and your loves.
When mourning words and pained tears hit the dirt.
When flesh meets flesh, and a sheen of sweat covers skin.
Is it really love?
'Hook up' culture with the sounds of moaning and the rush of pleasure.
But it's a fast high that passes quickly.
Waiting takes years,
Waiting is love.
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 5:23 PM UTC
She lay alone
Draped delicately across the red
I don’t feel present
Like the speck of dust drifting in the air
The sun arrives and passes
Shadows rising and falling
Her body still lays there
The skin rotting
Its grown pale
The smell is clouding my home
Im starving
He hasn’t come home for many sunsets
I don’t know what to do
I only have a single toy
And a bed
She hasn’t got up yet
She’s been still for so long
Her body is too cold to hug in the night
So I take a stool to climb and reach snacks
The days swirl on
Eventually I run out of snacks
Im hungry again
This hunger hurts my tummy
Her body is the only thing left
She hasn’t woken up yet
Would she be mad?
I don’t know.
Would he be mad?
I don’t know.
I try to do it as she used to
Take the knife
Cut the flesh
Put oil on the pan
Add pepper and salt
Put the meat in
It works
I eat
The body runs out of meat
Im not hungry
I feel sick
It’s a strange sick,
Clogging up my throat
Making the contents in my stomach pour out like a overflowing tub
She took medication
I find the needles in her room
Maybe this might make it stop
The needles hurt
A sharp ***** thats over quickly
I take 3 like she did
And the sensation is pretty
The sickness is gone!
I can’t feel it anymore
I cant feel the hunger
Im on the floor
Watching the sunsets and sunrises
The door opens finally
Its not him
Tall figures in white and blue
They talk loud
Find the pan and knife
They find me too
But they cant hear me
The ones dressed in white stare in horror
Some cry
I don’t know them
But I love that they cry for me
She and he never did
The time with those figures was nicer than before
They take me to a place of white walls
They find the meat
And one murmured sorry
I try to tell that one that its not their fault
Its hers and his
But they don’t hear me as usual
Eventually they put me underground
From there I float above
Watching people I never knew arrive
Some look like her
The others look like him
Some are old and young
I think they’re my family
I never knew them
But they’re here now
Loving me so nicely
But it’s unfair
Why do they only care when Im no longer there?
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 11:39 PM UTC
Are you not just as bad, just as sinful, in subjecting these wretched souls to such cruel, unwanted torments?
In a world where the line between justice and vengeance,
between punishment and sadism, grows ever more creative,
can we truly claim moral superiority while wielding such power?
Is the world not already lost, already drowning in a sea of sin and suffering?
Are not the very men and women lurking amongst us, the dregs of humanity, proof of that?
If they are beyond redemption, if their sins have condemned them to a hellish fate,
then is it not a mercy, a kindness even, to grant them the release of exquisite, agonizing ecstasy?
To make them feel something, anything, in a life that has surely been bereft of both love and consequence?
And as for the point, the purpose... perhaps there is none.
Perhaps this is simply the natural order of things, the strong feeding upon the weak,
the cruel amusing themselves with the suffering of the meek.
Or perhaps, in punishing the sinful with sin, in meeting cruelty with cruelty,
we are merely upholding the only true justice: an eye for an eye, a scream for a scream.
In a world gone mad, perhaps madness is the only sane response.
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 11:38 PM UTC
I stand there,
Watching these people blur past me,
Some are crying,
Some are as expressionless as a statue,
I don’t know what I’m feeling.
The emotions are unidentifiable,
I knew the one,
The one they are burning,
They place the body inside,
They close the doors and wait,
Many cried.
Daughters, wives, sons, and husbands.
They all knew the body,
Or they knew the family,
I’m family.
I knew the body,
The body was apart of my childhood,
I guess I should be crying.
I don’t know.
She’s hugging him and he’s hugging her,
People are screaming,
Some sob loudly,
Some come to me,
Their tears burn my skin.
Its the guilt,
The guilt that I’m not the family they deserve.
I crouch down by the stray dog,
“You know? The next time I’ll be here, no one will recognise me. I won’t be the little one they remember. And that’s the saddest thing of all, a stranger to my own blood.”
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 11:35 PM UTC
He spends his days wondering,
This earthly ground.
So rich and dark under his scales,
He's looked for a place of rest,
Of worship,
He's land of birth and creation no longer felt right,
Forever governed under one he called father,
And then he met you,
Slithering through Eden,
Just to fall at your door.
Crumbling so needily, so pathetically.
He's floated through this land that burns,
His very father has cast him down,
Here he is born again,
Skin bare, heart wide.
Hands that kiss hymns along your flesh,
He confesses breathlessly how long he's been looking,
For a place to worship, and-
Oh.
You put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans,
Like he can't help himself.
You wonder if other angels,
Fell so sweetly.
You tempt him like an apple of knowledge,
You taste like ambrosia,
Thick and silky upon his parched lips,
Softer than heaven's clouds,
More divine than what the father had served up there,
You've given him something that even heaven couldn't compare to.
Not lust,
Nothing so thick and cloy,
Nothing that ephemeral.
No, you've given him a treasure far more powerful,
Love that comes as the rains upon a barren desert,
You darken his once white wings,
And he finds himself wanting to fall all over again, just to taste you for the first time.
Dec 21, 2025
Dec 21, 2025 at 11:01 AM UTC
Some of us were born in the wrong body,
like how I was born to touch the stars,
To spread my white wings,
So like a angels,
Be present for the birth of suns and moons,
To see galaxies swirl,
This feeble human body cannot contain nor comprehend the size of my soul.
It’s more ancient than the skeletons buried at the bottom of oceans,
More vast than the infinite universe,
And more passionate than the most adored idol.
Flesh and bones cannot hold me,
So I rot each day,
Skin shedding,
The body ‘aging’.
For the star within me cannot stay forever,
But sometimes stars dim,
As mortal life cannot **** me in a way that matters,
But it can muffle the song,
The song is only heard twice in what humans call life.
When my soul glows the brightest, the peak of all things great.
And in death when this suit opens up and the star is let go from the chains.
I was supposed to find peace in the endless galaxies,
Instead I am bound.
Instead I am mortal,
Mortals are those bind to life and fear death,
I on the other hand yearn for it,
Aching for the sweet mercy death would be upon my bleeding soul,
I am bind to the mortal life, only by curiosity.
Once that fades? Will I have found an anchor?
Or will I seek death upon dissatisfaction?
Dec 13, 2025
Dec 13, 2025 at 10:06 PM UTC
You were supposed to adore me,
To raise me,
To love me,
But you didn't, did you?
No, your love came harsh,
In beatings and shouting,
In neglect and tolerance,
You brought me to this world,
Yet I was never your world.
So I went to someone else,
Another to love me,
To touch me gently.
As if I were something worthy of love,
You never told me I wasn't,
You taught me instead,
You taught me that I should be grateful for the basics,
For water, food, and shelter.
But those are the basics,
You never gave me more.
You taught me I was not worthy of love,
Just the basic filling of my needs,
It is hard to be normal,
Hard not to fear being honest,
When I was with you,
That ended with pain, and you leaving me crying on the floor.
Hard to speak up,
Because when I did, you would shout back,
'I was being disrespectful'
And then you'd bruise me with your words,
Stab me, over and over.
I bleed the love I had for you,
Thank you for making sure I survived,
I was alive,
I just never lived.
I was there,
Just never present.
Why do you hate me?
I loved you.
Nov 25, 2025
Nov 25, 2025 at 10:55 PM UTC
I make myself sick,
Flesh that is held together by bones.
A biological thing, made of soft tissues that rot.
A brain to think, do and be.
Human.
Most days I wake with a hunger,
Or hate.
Love comes rare,
And when it does, it's ambrosia.
Soothing my pain,
Addicting at times.
Human.
I have issues like many others,
It all comes down to how you deal with them.
I'm not perfect,
That's expected.
I should be, though, shouldn't I?
Human.
I'm not human if I'm perfect.
To be Human is to be imperfect.
So why do you demand such things of me?
At such a young age, no less.
"You're so mature."
"So wise!"
Human.
I reek of mistakes and errors,
I trudge along the concrete, decaying.
You can see the flies!
The maggots are still inside.
My thoughts spiral at the seams,
Someone ought to tie the string off.
I'm close to the cliff,
I can feel the wind in my hair,
Caressing my skin with its gentle kisses.
I am not deserving of its delightful affection,
What I deserve is to lean over the edge.
To tumble through the air and feel my bones fracturing.
My skull crushed from the impact,
Drowning from the water.
But I cannot do that now can I?
That's a escape.
I must own up to all I've done,
Even if it drives me to my end.
At the end what will I be?
The same old creature of flesh and bones,
Thoughts and mistakes,
A error on this planet of errors.
Human.
Will I be human?
Or.
No longer human?
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 3:47 AM UTC
The women answered all the questions she could
Her voice came soft but loud
She spoke about all that happened to her
Every moment of darkness
Every bit of hope and peace
She was old and frail, but she was beautiful
Maybe not on the outside to others
But inside? As a person
She was a wonder
A person who went through trauma
But came out as strong as ever
The war affected her in a major way
She would forever be haunted by it
But she still carried hope
She was resilient and strong
And she was loved
It was a pleasure to meet her
To see the life in her despite dying such a gruesome death
She spoke warmly of the people who cultivated her garden
She said she was a child
And you could never imagine a child going through that
You were a child yourself
Just a teen who went to hear her story
She spoke of her years in the farm
13 she was, hiding with a family who risked their lives to keep her safe
And then the students asked questions
You chewed your bottom lip
You question
Your song
“How did she keep going?”
What a strange question it was,
For a teenager to ask
Not unexpected but strange
Others would think,
That the teen was a child, they should just keep going
But they would never know
The women looked up at you
Her eyes were tired,
But they held the hope of a survivor
Of someone who saw the end
Who saw death and blood and pain
And she said simply-
“I was a child, to live was my hope and my reason.”
You nodded and sat back down,
But it wasn’t so simple
Why should you live?
That was the question you asked,
Internally.
You were asking her, pleading her
That she would look, properly into your eyes
And give you a reason to live.
“I was a child.”
And you are too.
But it wasn’t a reason for you,
Waking up each day was a struggle,
And your life wasn’t as bad as hers,
So how did she do it?
Even now you wonder,
You always wonder.
The ache in your heart never soothed,
But a few were aware of the truth,
How death plagues your every thought,
There was rarely a break from it,
It was both your saviour and what would **** you,
Your curse and your gift,
Every choice, every breath, every memory.
Laced with that parasitic question,
“Why do I live?”
“Theres no point.”
“Why should I keep going even though I will die anyways?”
The song,
The question,
I am many things,
A person,
A child,
A artist,
A creature,
I am something,
Yet day in and day out
I can’t help but wonder
With my every breath
With each cell that rots
“Why should I keep going?”
I ask you,
Tell me.
I beg of you.
Give me a reason,
A point,
A purpose,
Because for now
I decay away,
Those dark thoughts eating at me.
The thing of cruelest intents and sins,
Curls inside me,
Eager to grab what it can,
A knife, a rope, a bottle of pills.
Yet I have managed to find help from people,
And I force myself each day,
To do the little to things,
Get out of bed, one foot at a time, set the sheets aside.
Brush my teeth, just like that, round and round.
Eat breakfast,
Clean your bed,
Breathe.
How does a survivor of the cruelest things keep going?
When even I, a mere teen struggle to open my eyes on most days.
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 11:09 PM UTC
I do not know you, yet I feel you
An empty ache in my heart
The missing brush of skin against my own
You're not here yet
I am aware of that,
Of every second that flickers by unnoticed
I depend too much on your fictional presence
I create stories in my soul about the way you will hold me in your arms when you arrive
I wait through the rotting
Through the squirming moans of anguish that tighten in my chest
And the noose of self-hate that haunts my neck
We promised each other in our dreams
To find one another every lifetime
But my latest life has gifted me less patience
I am aware I must wait to find you
That you will when the time has come
But I grow weary, my heart
Life takes more than it gives to me
But I love you
More than the crumbling woods,
The splintering skies and burning lives
I will hold on and preserve what gold is left of my heart
I will leave the softest flesh and tissue safely tucked for the day you arrive
And when you do
Take me into your arms,
Lift me high, don't let me go
We can sing our song and wither away into the ocean of our own love
Salty it stings, but it's cool upon my hot skin
So soothe my aches and kiss my scars
Wrap your soul around my softest flesh
Kiss the blood spilling from my heart
You may hurt, hate or ignore me at the start
But love me for the rest of time
Bring me so high that I would never want to see the stars
And settle me in the grave gently
Let us depart this world with the blood of our love upon our lips
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 3:48 AM UTC