There are times where I feel guilt for living
Because so many have been chosen by men wielding death.
I bleed for them
And turn the knife on myself
But I can’t bleed for much longer.
I cannot choke for much longer.
I am living and must live.
I will try to love and laugh and dance
so that I might parcel up this love,
And send it in thoughts
In ancestry and bloodlines
In life.
To you.

i don't know how to spell existence.

when did I become so afraid to Feel?

Im bleeding white
Porous ache
Poisoned.
Tell me you’re defending
Tell me  I’m barbaric
Tell me to stand by your side
Tell me that’s the only the way that’s right
Tell me to grieve your loss
Tell me that mine’s not real
Tell me I deserve it
Suffocate me.
Conceal.
I’m immobile.
I can’t feel.

Cannibal
You scorn me.

Cannibal
You’ve torn me.

Cannibal
Take the pain
Claim what you’ve won
I don't want it anymore

Ah, if I could exist within the borders of a song

butterflies aside,
there is beauty ahead.
cozy reconnection,
combat boots treading season-old-trodden paths,
baby, let’s rekindle by that kindling fire
and over coffee,
accents of cinnamon and pumpkin
how warm.
those inferno tones,
breeze biting at
cream sherpa that won’t relent.
it might not glisten
or present with port-side flavours of ice cream,
but there is beauty ahead.