You Talk, i listen.
That’s the way this works.

You ramble and You monologue,
while i keep my lips pursed.

i wonder if You’ll notice,
i haven’t said a word..

But you simply entertain Yourself,
and i remain unheard.

I hate some teachers,
They are the worst creatures,
You'll say they help us learn,
but what about the mental trauma
they give in return.
You made me cry
I cried-cried-cried,
Causing pain in my eyes.
I wish I could see the same pain
in your eyes.
I will never forget,
How you made me dead,
Still getting nightmares in my head.
Students go through this,
Isn't it sad?
Why these adults don't understand?
OUR PAIN!!
to be a perfect student.
Why can't we live our dreams?
forced to do what makes money.
We are human,
But not treated as one,
Isn't it funny?

The day’s hours were worn down and a sudden sunset, that resembled a master’s painted glimpse of Valhalla was upon us, its majesty of deepest blue, blood red and black.

From our tenth-floor skew, the river looked, for all, like a wrinkled sea expecting a storm. Boats moved to tie up before the dark body of windswept clouds arrived trailing a wall of downpour and flickering, electric thunder.

Our study group had run over, as they tend to do. Most of the members urgently moved to pack up (they’d be campus bound). An unpropitious rumble and fierce flare of light revealed that mild twilight had swiftly faded to a darkest stormy night.

My pinched-pleated curtains thrashed before this tempest for the almanacs, feigning a life they do not possess, like twin ghosts stirred to wrath.

“We can order in,” I offered, waving a menu from the downstairs bistro, as I closed my French, glass doors. “Why not eat here and wait it out?” I shrugged, “My treat,” I offered, “and I have wine.”

A pleasant embracement of relief and consent followed. What held more power, I wondered, the society, natures coerce or the gratis fare?

Later. as we parted, a young man paltered, repaying me with a quick hug and cheeky kiss. The valueless touch, was itself rewarded with a small grimace of a smile, but the sin did not overset the mood.
.
.
Songs for this:
Riders on the storm by the doors
Stormy by Classics IV

In every room
I've lived in,
all the dilapidated shacks
over the years that I've
stayed in, always had a
brown spider that crawled
the walls.
It had a little suitcase.

I thought to myself that it
planned on leaving, moving to
someplace better.
It never did.
It always just set up shop, and
spun a web in the corner and caught
flies, and occasionally a small moth.

On drunken sad moon nights,
I sang dirges to the trapped bugs.
They smiled and laughed, even though
they were dying.

You and I—
we feel,
we love,
we regret.
Yet we remain
the binding particle
of a formless self.

They divide us,
pit us against each other.
We found safety
for thirteen days.

Before dawn,
we felt the breath
that seeps through cracks
into minds like a narrow thread of force,
and the fog spilled out.

Above our heads, false stars
created by warm bodies
to annihilate
what passed through the gate
of a birthing woman.

We write words to conjure
happy endings
at the ball of extermination
that tears apart
the pulsing light
of a thousand veins.

Please sit with me
before you go
Do you feel it—
the mourning procession
of human beings
transforming into a state of fission
and drifting away?

And a sigh is so sad
of trembling atoms
when the victim becomes the destroyer.

Feel the force of the fall,
and do not shatter hope
even if the world
trembles to its core
because there is still YOU,
still ME,
and still

OTHERS.

I'll meet you
In the Rothko Chapel
We'll get a private view
I know some people
It'll be no hassle

Fourteen
Big canvas
In various black
We could stay there all week
We might never come back

Or as long as we can't take it
Raw emotion

Mostly dark

Go out through the emergency exit
Into the
Surrounding
Sunlit
Verdant
Park.

There is a heaviness within me
that never leaves,
no matter what I do,
no matter what I say.

Omnipresent,
like a death sentence:
slow,
cruel.

My thoughts are curses,
blasphemous, dark, vile,
a constant sacrilege
against a power too great
to subjugate.

I'm held in chains,
my humanity a gift
wrapped in a cage.

I try to run,
but it claws at my skin.

Now I'm left
with bones and veins,
dragging myself through the sand
as the clock ticks,
a reminder
that my time will soon end.

My arms flail in despair,
reaching for an anchor
before I vanish
into an abyss
too vast to comprehend.

Yet an echo chants in verses,
a lament of truth
that feels like a burden:

All is fleeting.
Nothing stays.

Love comes in waves.
It drowns you
in euphoric bliss,
where two souls intertwine
for a single kiss.

Then you're alone,
washed up on the shore,
wondering
when it began
and how it came to end.

You bask in the light of happiness,
but darkness always follows,
leaving you cold and hollow.

Only death is certain.
Only you exist.

Others are but mirrors.
Their reflections never change,
a constant dissonance
between who I am
and what I try to escape.

I've been cast out of heaven
to rot in this hell,
among demons and devils
whose desires drip like venom.

Greed in their eyes,
wrath in their hearts,
sweet nothings
masked beneath lust.

Cleanse me of this place.

Burn me:
sevenfold,
tenfold.

Rid me of this plane.

Banish me to silence,
where death does not toll,
to the place where time
exists only as a shadow.