as a child time seemed fake,
like a concept that i never understood fully
seasons came and went
as fast as the days did
time all meshed into
one
intertwined web.
that kept me stuck for years
until time stopped one day,
and my innocence faded with it
i now understood the seconds,
the hours,
the minutes,
i now understood why
why leaves wilted
why snow fell.
because we are in a cycle
everyday.
just another number
that's all i will ever be.

to be loved is to be consumed,
you give your whole
entire
person
to another soul
you become fully captivated by them
no matter what they do
you will always remain theirs
your heart only beating for one other
you take the risk
and the reward.

staring at a screen
it says ‘bad gateway’
what does it mean?

I don't know
but I've seen this before
that's why I'm in
survival mode
it's gonna be okay
I'll just take the next road
left

writing poems...
in my head

In an emptiness designed by no one

tried
to print
touch

Is it every time I say no? Or couldn’t say no?
Is it every time I don’t do what they say?
Is it every time I say yes to what hurts?
Or is it every time I do what I don’t want to?
When do I stop being beautiful?
Is it whenever I don’t smile or be nice?
Is it whenever I don’t agree or nod?
Is it whenever I become what they think?
Or is it whenever I belong just to feel seen?
When am I not beautiful?
Is it every time I cross the street as expected?
Is it every time I stay still on the sidewalk?
Is it everytime I play pretend, even play dead?
Or is it everytime I laugh off unwanted jokes?
When do I stop being pretty?
Is it whenever my lips pray, sing, read poems?
Is it whenever I don’t open them to curse?
Is it whenever I only talk about art, not probe?
Or is it when I don’t ask questions or news?
When am I not pretty?
Is it every time I say no? Or couldn’t say no?
Is it every time I don’t do what they say?
Is it every time I say yes to what hurts?
Or is it every time I do what I don’t want to?

I feel it pull
on me,
im not meant
for it,
the weight
of love