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Aug 24 · 323
intangible love.
you can escape reality if you put your head down to sleep
but its not guarantied that you'll dream
nothing in life is truly as it seems
neither good nor bad, intertwined worlds in between
like a stranger on the street passing by who never stops to smile, never bats an eye
a sleepless guy, a losing battle
a girl he loves but he can't seem to handle
puffs of smoke & getting lost in cars
strangers hands & late night bars
lines of powder that make us feel love
or something close to it we can never touch
love is an illusion, love is a dream
loves going to k*ll you if you let it in
because no one stays the same yet nobody changes
interchanged in each other; let me look in your eyes
let me unpack my rage & disclose all my lies
let me become a sinner & a martyr in your life
and in your soft sweet embrace filled with emptiness & space
hold me & tell me you adore me
that there's no one worth more than me
that you can't even describe my beauty
that you don't only care about my ******
that you actually see my soul and you don't care when i act cold
because beneath it all you look through me
& you know me - because i know you
& we are reflections of one another,
lost souls wandering who dream in colour
do i leave you breathless? do i cross your mind? do you think i'm even worth your time?
i can't seem to understand why but there's a glowing light
at the end of the tunnel
that begs me to...try.
i know that loving me hurts,
hell, it hurts me too.
& it kills me inside to know that's what i do
i'm drowning down under a deep blue lagoon
& i'm swimming for the top, reaching towards your hand
its hard to breathe & its darker than night and the waters cold & my toes are numb but i know that i can't stop swimming up.
i need you to show me how to change,
i need to see a brighter light -
i'm tired - i know i shouldn't be
i'm young & have so much life ahead of me
but i don't know where i'm going
and all good moments are fleeting & rushing past me like cars on a never ending highway
120km an hour & thats how fast you'd drive only to find me
can you believe that i ever thought less of myself?
if there is good in bad & bad in good & perfection doesn't exist
it's a lie to say you didn't love me
it's a lie to say you weren't there
i recognize the pain in your eyes,
a fading image of my face, it will soon be over
& its best for your heart if you try to ignore it.
losing time under neon lights with accompanying thoughts of mine
a rainy night.
is it bad to say i want to hold your hand?
never mind ***, tell me what makes you sad
tell me how disgusted you are with yourself when you act the way you do
i want to know every person in that diaphanous mind
i promise you my love is blind.

i'm lighting my second cigarette & losing track of time.
you're so special & ethereal
your love is sublime.
your voice echoes in my mind
let me give you my body,
my heart, my soul -
you inspire me to transcend to greatness.

- conceptcollection.
just thinking about the past & present all at once, what else is new.

feels absolutely amazing to be back after all these years. <3
Aug 2019 · 441
note to self
stop beating yourself up over your mistakes. stop thinking that you’re useless for being less than perfect. stop thinking that whatever happened to you was your fault, because it wasn’t. things happen, whether they are good or bad. life expects us all to carry our tribulations on our back while maintaining smiley, eager faces.

sometimes, life is not fun. sometimes, life is lonely, and its empty, and its tired. but just as you woke up one day scared at the thought that you lost all feeling, you will also wake up calm & happy again. eventually. the trick to life is not just carrying your tribulations, but waiting in anticipation and hopefulness for the days to come. it is so important. if you do not have hope, if you do not push forward, life stops. and although we may want life to stop, think of all the people you’ve touched - all the people you know, who spent time with you, who text you, who beg you to come out, who even give you a small little compliment one day in class. those peoples lives change forever when you’re gone, and for those close to you, it would be for the worst.

so remember, its not your fault. its not your fault that she left you, its not your fault that he hit you, it’s not your fault. people suffer at the hands of those who are incomplete. please be compassionate to yourself. please be kind. our minds are our greatest enemies because they take things that have been said to us by people who don’t even know us. it takes the hurt, lies and anger others inflict on you to break you down, and spins it around to make you hate yourself. please don’t hate yourself. please remember that this is all relative, it is all an experience.

take your time to heal.

-note to self

concept collection
whew, its been a while. i’m back and ready to spill my brain out to you all.
May 2018 · 224
the start of changing.
i am so ******* tired
of acting like i know
what i'm doing.

i am trying,
but aimlessly wandering,
no direction in mind.

- the start of changing
May 2018 · 466
sometimes I still feel young
so small I could fit in someone's coat pocket,
become invisible or completely erased.
what is the point of taking on a world
where you know you are small-
you get no where. you feel nothing.

- small
Oct 2017 · 347
moving on
here’s the thing with moving on. it creeps in, slowly.

when I was first broken up with, the pain felt unreal. the thoughts of being forever unrepairable plagues your mind, and suddenly the world is a lot darker without them. more dark than a solar eclipse, their absence leaves you in pitch black loneliness.

but there are stages to moving forward, and each person experiences them differently. but you can always guaranty that although the one you miss is constantly on your mind, the thought will eventually start to dim. like a trying lightbulb, it will attempt its last ignition alive and fail. it will dim out without your knowledge, and your heart will eventually be okay with it.

like I said the process creeps in slowly. one minute you’ve forgotten about their beautiful smile and perfect hands and the next you’re remembering the goosebumps that arose when he touched you. you’re reliving an experience you’ve held dear to your heart, and to no avail, nothing changes. you’re both on opposite sides of the universe, strung up in old feelings like ***** laundry, but are somehow airing each other out. looking forward.
sometimes you’ll look back, but you’ll never allow your shoulders to follow. you’ll never be able to do that to yourself now because you know the second you do, everything comes back, right?

i’ve allowed to let my shoulders turn but only come back as a walking ghost. its a distance I respect, love and hate all at once. I love it because sometimes I still get to hear the laughter. I get too watch how careful his hands are when he pours his drink, or hands me the remote. its a torturous feeling of bliss, wonder and nostalgia. I hate it for this, too, because when you see those delicate hands, you wonder what they would feel like on you again. you wonder if they wonder, and that’s the end of it all.

when you wonder, you wander. I go into this reality of what has been, and what could of been. It’s an escape from what is and, for just a while, I can ease the initial pain and remember what it was like to have your lips against my skin, touching everywhere and healing everything. Sometimes that’s all you need- not the person, but the feelings they arose in you.

that's what hurts about love; it will always move faster than time and somehow allow us to remain completely still, unchanged, unwillingly hinged together by a thread.

so that’s really the question: are you pushing forward? Are you meeting someone new? Does she smile at you like I used to?

       I beg you don’t forget. please don’t forget about me.

- moving on
Aug 2017 · 679
do not be afraid to speak
that always seems to be the problem -
one person is thinking about all the hurt while the other is thinking of all the love
and they somehow never think
to trade perspectives.

-communicating is just as important as the act of loving
Jul 2017 · 558
the platform lights outside my train
glaze the seats across from me with
a golden ambiance
that reminded me of the twinkle in your eye-
i can't seem to remember it anymore
for what it was set as in reality
but the reminder was nice
and so i hold onto it, an already-fading memory;
a lesson in change and understanding.
an ambiance of change and letting go.

- thank you for reminding me to grow

its not easy to read the lines between wanting to find a solution and wanting it all to end. that's what no one will teach you. life is ******* hard and ******* happens every single day, to every one of us. our buttons are pushed, our faith is tested, and everything you desire or you're grateful for, its like a set of eight pins. life, whenever its ready, will take its shot and hope it gets all the strikes it can.

sometimes looking to the universe will help you, and other times it wont. and sometimes you wont realize quickly enough that at night, all the stars in the night sky will shine brightly and exquisitely for you, and for every other person on this planet, in their special own way. everything is yours and everything is not. and life is always ******* changing so if things get too difficult and too ******, remember there were moments when it was the complete opposite. those times are coming. i just don't know how to wait properly on those times.

what i've learnt is that life is a test. it gives you good things so you can realize what is good, what is fun, what is wanted and desired in your life. but it also gives you what is bad, what is horrible and painful and unbearable. and when it does this, its to remind you that things can go horribly wrong, extremely quickly. that's whats so horrible yet magnificent about life, it takes your eight pins and says "**** it", and goes in for the **** or inspiration anyways. it changes on the flip of a coin, it changes on the flip of your emotions.

how to deal? i'm not quite sure anymore. i used to use positivity as a way to handle these strikes, to have a reason to think that things were going to soon once be okay. but life is always changing, so for now, we're not going to know. there are too many variables to think about when you're living, and we can't always see them all when we're in the moments of being alive. and we are not the universe. so breathe, and just stay sane. stay alive. and when life gets those strikes, and he's jumping around in the sky all happy and creating thunder, you'll feel small. and that small girl sitting in the biggest rainfall of the season is going to sit and think and just ******* smile. because nothing is going to get any better or any worse than this.
Jun 2017 · 661
meeting myself.
i lost you but
picked up my self-worth at
st. andrews station with
a wondrous smile
gave her a hug and
rejoiced at how this loss
was one worth losing.

-losing you is peaceful

Jun 2017 · 373
isn't this how?
i'm reading all these poems
about how i deserve better
and that i shouldn't be crying
when we're broken apart
but i can't help but weep because
when my eyes met yours with inspiration
yours met mine with belittlement
and i used to search for life's wonderment's
between your arms when you'd hug me
isn't that so beautiful?
that when i was making love to your body
our were simply plowing mine
land that you didn't even plant flowers on
because you could care less
about growing it.
is that what you want to be remembered as?

this makes me wonder how humans
constantly desire love yet
don't take the steps to receive it
don't believe that we deserve it
and instead push it away like the other person
we so desperately wanted
meant absolutely

-isn't this how you wanted to be loved?

Jun 2017 · 1.1k
toxic masculinity.
your **** is not disgusting at all
thats all he can seem to apologize for.
i'm so happy among the screaming and aggression
that my womanhood
is not disgusting.
it's not like you didn't tell me to **** myself
and ill be honest i was already half way there
when i heard that sentence run off your ******* mouth.
how ******* dare you.

i should of been more angry with you
i shouldn't have let you kiss my beautiful rose
with your disgusting, unworthy mouth.
you want to claim respect yet you had none to offer
you're toxic, and every woman knows it.
that's why there was only me.
and now that i've learnt, you'll have no one
until you learn.

-toxic masculinity

Jun 2017 · 414
now i'm angry
I hated how right you were, because you weren't always right about everything. But something this time around allowed you to be right about me. How I was scared to open up, to feel, how I always translate it back to anger. I didn't mean to do this. After all, you told me that being emotional wasn't what you wanted around yourself. You were always trying to be so ******* happy. So I took that to heart and started burying my feelings.

2. Even after burying them, they still came through; a small light shining through a darkened room. I still wanted to lay my head on your chest, interlock legs with yours after you ****** me. I still wanted you to hold my hand. It had nothing to do about the ***. I guess what I loved so much about it was that it felt like you were touching me, who I really was, and I thought that I had meant something. You gave meaning to my body every time you touched it.

3. We both found each other when trying to find ourselves. I don't know what to make of that universal message, but it haunts me. Because I thought that when you prayed and screamed out and tried your all, the universe rewarded you with what you really needed, what you were really looking for. So I guess part of me thought I needed you. You had so much to offer but cut our moment quickly and now I'm terrified that you will never have the chance. I'm scared I have missed those gifts.

4. Looking into your eyes for the last time hurt more than any other person I had to let go of. I liked them so much, and they were always so hard to look into. Avoided at all costs. Before, it was because I was so nervous around you, I was always blushing. Now, I avoid them because I don't want to accept that i'll be looking into them for the first time and not seeing anything. I feel like I low my heart to remember how they look one last time. That if I could just look into your eyes and see some sort of feeling of you wanting me to stay that I would have. I feel like I owed myself that last moment to say goodbye. I would have ******* fought for my position. But you didn't seem worth it.

5. There re moments where I want to think you thought about me like I thought about you. I want to believe that you thought highly of me, that I was beautiful and fun to be around, but it gets harder and harder to see you really thinking those things. What I really wanted to tell you was how much I wanted you to myself, how much I really did look up to you. I wanted even more for you to smile at those words, that loyalty and devotion and care, and take me into a hug. But you didn't. You blamed me. And although I do need to change, you took no responsibility for your anger, your hurtful words, your hard times, negativity, and *******. Which is why this thinking, this dreaming, ends on five.

-now i'm angry

Jun 2017 · 284
this is a ******* wonderful nightmare, a horrid shape-shifter in disguise. a ripple effect from a stone dropped in holy water years ago. it could of been anyone and yet i was somehow brought to you. do you ever think about that? am i just rambling on? maybe i sound like an optimist, a mystical believer in miracles and things that are supposed to happen. i get lost easily in the clouds i puff out and transport to different realities when i think about our universe, this spinning, colossal canvas of love and lust and sin.

its hard to look in your eyes. mine water when i think about the way i probably let you down, the circumstance i seemed to put you in. i want you to be happy, but i'm so ******* selfish.


he stole my heart again.
Jun 2017 · 550
its hard to care when the world is up against you
its hard to care when you feel like you're drowning
and it's hard to care when water keeps pouring in
and you don't know how to swim.
i've forgotten what an outstretched hand feels like, and i've forgotten how to use my words. there's nothing left to say. when i think about reaching out for someones hand i'm tempted to pull back, as if it wouldn't have still been empty. as if someone would have actually cared.
do you know how it feels? to have your breath knocked out of your chest. to drive home, hands 10 and 2 on the wheel, tears allowing you to wash out the world for a quick instant.
and maybe that's the issue, right? we're all too silent before we're gone, that's why there was no hand. but is it really our fault?

my mouth and brain are no longer in conjunction with each other and speaking and not speaking is both difficult and easy
could you hold my hands for a second?
drown me out for a while.


going through my drafts to see what i want to publish & came across this. i felt like i remember writing this particular poem, straight up onto this forum, during an especially hard time in my life. i'm glad to say i'm hardly there anymore.
Jun 2017 · 532
the flourishing fantasy
is it too much to ask
that i hold your soul
in the palms of my
shaking, nervous hands?

is it possible
to kiss someone & take their breath away
yet somehow breathe life into them?

you gave me an imperfect heaven
and i loved every second of
the flourishing fantasy
because you make me feel good
and warm
and wanted
so i ask that you let me do the same.

i wanted to get lost in your kiss
and feel the way love does
when she finally gets her way;
i wanted to *******
just to be a little closer
to what i could never have

-the flourishing fantasy

May 2017 · 608
through this fire.
i am dizzy and watch the sun burn in hot pink fire
i watch the skies orange hues
spark rage onto the tips of the trees,
and there is some light
dimmed and green and ever-glowing
that I find myself drawn to;
a black and mossy demon, a shape-shifting lover.

when you approach this calmed heart
please hold it gently;
remember that i am here-
and when you fail to see the wind waltz through your bedroom window
know it still flows-
somewhere a world catches drift of your dreams
and you inspire thousands.

i see you in the swirls and patterns that engulf me
and i sense the desperation for confirmation but for now
i'm watching the clouds roll by like motion-picture movies;
and they tell my favorite stories

through this fire, i smile.

-through this fire

Apr 2017 · 1.2k
realizing the hero.
when i love
i throw myself in flames

but i've learnt that
i don't need to

i can save that passion
i can save myself for someone
i choose

i am my own hero.

-realizing the hero

Apr 2017 · 315
how can someone be that powerful
to ******* steal your breath away
without warning, without physical harm;
no closure, other than your ******* ignorance-

how the **** could you do that?


Apr 2017 · 978
behind closed doors
she asks me why i keep looking behind
closed doors
and i don't want to say but
i keep looking for something unbruised
or a distant feeling that's been renewed
or i don't know

a past memory. maybe an old life.

she asks me why i keep looking behind
closed doors
and i struggle to say that i miss the past.
that everything i lost was really all i had and
i miss it. i miss them.
i miss every time someone made me genuinely smile

i miss the times where people bothered to try.

she asks me why i keep looking behind
closed doors
when i know there's nothing of substance
and i don't want to say that
i find out a new disappointing fact every time
i peak behind that door,
an outstanding opportunity to break my heart,
an old smile that feels like happiness when i tend
to revisit,
and a part of me believes my care could revive it.

that's why i keep checking behind closed doors.

that's why ill beat the door down, until i can see right through it.

-behind closed doors

Apr 2017 · 219
the thunder.
i can't help but be filled with poison
every time you strike me
because when you do its like
a thunderstorm has hit
and my delicate body was
decaying land
that couldn't possibly stand
the lightning.

-it keeps crashing

Apr 2017 · 597
you leave me gasping for eternity in our darkened slumber and I fall deeper into this mystical feeling. the tenderness trails my body and i can't stop melting into the covers while you hold my head. bright eyes can't deceive me anymore an somehow i was gifted with yours, free of lies. i see a universe of hope and fanaticism and calmness that something about it entices me to stay. there's nothing left but tired. sleepy nights after making love when you let me stay;

and you held me.. and i felt real again.

-i love melting into you

Apr 2017 · 315
it's not hard to imagine you in front of me
your smile forever present; please
don't look at me like that
you're making me blush.

i always want to tell you
but the words get lost in my mind.
i can't help but stay silent.
it's not hard to imagine that
you feel this too.

is it silly to run away?
is it silly to jump?
i can't imagine standing still with you anymore..
i don't seem to know anymore..

so for now, lets smile
show me those stars i so desperately want to catch
drive me out. fill me in.

-fill me up

Mar 2017 · 510
all of my love
"this world is so cruel"
and it echoes in my head
and my heart has burst on the floor
and my tears, drowning my thoughts, burning the bridges i loved to cross
taking everything i wanted to love.

i now know i am in control of everything
except what i love
exorcise these thoughts out of me,
i don't want them latched anymore;
set them free, let them go.

all i am is young and time makes it unable to relate
so my ideas disappear into the background and lay sprouting in a field no one has gone
and he will love another and another and
i am up in flames by the time i realize

-its all over

Mar 2017 · 560
somewhere new
it still stings a little. the more days that pass, my mind erases you more and more. sometimes i don't want it to, because i'm afraid that i will not find better- but fear is a lack of faith, and my flowers are growing. change is the only thing i have.

so i let it continue. i proceed to forget our smiles and sunny, happy laughter. you used to light up the room. you still are. somewhere new.

-somewhere new

Mar 2017 · 869
night two
he pulls me up against his body; on fire
fangs biting and tugging at my ear
his hand sliding down my thong...

there is a feeling intertwined within the sheets
a blooming rose; a bleeding heart
soft familiarity.

he touches until i'm brought back to life.

-night 2

Feb 2017 · 845
my mind is on repeat
my mind is on repeat my mind lingers on the though of you every second of the day. from the curve of your lips that arise when you silently hurt me to the day you crushed everything i loved, my mind is on repeat.

my mind is on repeat. a move-like trance appearing on every corner of my brain. the memories remind me with its colourful details and unhappy endings that we were once lively. we were the definition of wild, untamed laughter in the early sunrise hours until the night swallowed us whole. i tried to pull down the stars and the moon like they were carnival balloons just to impress you. i miss the way i impressed you.
when i'm alone in my bed i search the corners and pillows for a comforting word of two you may have led behind when you decided to leave.

my mind is on repeat. i think about the day my heartbeat with align back up with yours. between bottle after bottle that i drown myself in i look for a concept of you; the charming smile, the dependent tear, the shifted gaze. i look to remember and remember so i don't forget, but by the time i'll see you i will not smile at our memories anymore. instead, they will float away like happy little clouds, and for the first time i will get a solid nights sleep without dreaming that you somehow still care. somehow, i learn in these dreams that i still care.

my mind is on repeat. i hope someday i will be better. i am drenched in golden sunlight and happiness until i think of you. your presence is a clenched fist around my already gaping neck and you resist to aim for the ****. your words shot like daggers and my shaky hands were no math. your resonating irritation makes it hard to breathe in the stillness of the night and for a second i could feel my heart skip a beat.

my mind is on repeat. i don't beg for answers, i don't allow my mind to fade away on those thoughts. i look forward and take big, long strides- i hold dear what was taught to me. i feel a tear well up in my eye, as my foot takes that liberating first step.

-it will always be repeating

wrote this in the midst of life feeling like it was getting to crazy. do you ever feel like that? i think that as a society we're so consumed by everything around us and we tend to waste our time with things that hardly matter. i think this noise starts to build up and i find it so irritating, especially when i'm trying to be creative! nonetheless, heres what sprang from that idea :)
There is nothing more hollow than the sound of fate.

We used to drink coolers in the sunlight and beam at the current state of the world;
Crystallized visions warped in everlasting time,
we dreamed.
We were unbothered, but unhinged without realization,
But we loved it anyways.
A remaining 24 hour cycle- a day by day opening first act
We stood amongst our choices and applauded.


All she wants is a late night whisper of confirmation.
All she wants is everyone to see her glamorous, shooting star
Make them think, under her belief,
that she was anything special.

Grappling for a sense of hope and help and laughter
A glimpse into this near-distant future
Screaming for a change in the past.
Its all left unheard and she aims for the sun-
She lands amongst the tides and sinks under.

She lays her head on her satin red pillows and cries a song no one will hear, no one cares to open their ears.

And in the morning you find her face down.


They call me the green dragon because I'm puffing smoke,
Filling the surrounding rooms and destroying everyone I know.
I don't know where I'm coming from and where my mind has seemed to go but
I hold dearly these emotions arising
And I can't stop this swelling in my chest;
What comes after this?

I am transported into this space of celestial fluid that consumes my thoughts
The dark matter, the voices you can't seem to find, nor grab
They disappear like a photograph over a slow burning candle,
Fading off like smoke into the air,

They were always something. And now they stay lingering,
Infused into this space and you are treading water
Your head almost under.

We slip into this sleepless coma, this eternal unfamiliarity of the future
Dark as night, mute noise, no one present
Your eyes slip back and remember, remind yourself of what you lost
Face the actions you've created, you've sought out

I whisper through the tears and say I'm not the only one,
I'm not the only one,
And somewhere soon we'll meet again and drown the sun.

Some lost love, a forbidden thought,
I am apologetic but I must be leaving
And soon one day I hope to see

That things will remain what they seem.

-its a cycle of life

Jan 2017 · 453
confession: i wish i had never let you in.

i kissed your best friend after witnessing a drunken bar fight and thought about the way your fingers slid skillfully through my hair in your 2 am secret-infested bed. i thought about the planets of this magnificent world while you held every single breath i attempted to take back from your crystallized eyes. your hands sent vibrations through my body and amongst the jumbled whispered words drowned in true blue music, i wonder what we lost and what we learnt amongst the engulfing darkness. every time i step into your room it feels like an ocean of familiarity, tainted with a slow beating heart that's begging for a companion that would never be me. time started flying by when the universe saw how absolutely enchanted i was with the way you drove your car, the way you grasped my neck when my moans screamed that they wanted more, the way those boys shot daggers of envy when you were seen beside me.
now, i scramble to place together the beautiful words you spoke to me when we lost our carelessness between ***** sours and silly **** rips because they were the only ones i believed, the smoke danced in the sky like gypsies riding the dawn of morning while we bathed in golden sun rays. the clouds told stories of our passionate demise.  i lay in my bed during the early morning hours before sunrise; before the last star in the pre-existing night sky vanishes and i think about you and what you could be doing. have you found something better? do you still dream about my silky, youthful skin? do her lips taste as ripe as mine?
these are questions i continue to entertain myself with. i let my mind flash back to when i had that pinot grigio in my hand and i watched your best friend perform upstage and i glanced over at you, your face without a word, nothing to be traced.

confession: it was too hard to love you.

-now what?

Dec 2015 · 1.2k
I drowned the thought of you in my 11pm Sangria ritual to chase away the demons that plague my mind, that tell me I am not good enough for you. The bed we once shared now suffers from a cold spot from where you use to lay with me. We use to generate so much heat when our bodies touched that I thought we would become hotter than the sun. You use to tell me how beautiful I was; that I held my Moscato white wine with such great precaution not to spill it that you thought I was an angel carrying a soul to the hands of God. You knew my heart was delicate. After all, the very sight of me sent venom pulsing through your veins, sort of like you wanted to destroy my already-feeble bones. Your anger teased out shyness in me, and when you decided to lift your hand that one faithful night to smack me it sent me crawling on my hands and knees for forgiveness, just to see that we wouldn’t end up on the road my parents once were. You made tears swell up in my eyes when you were inside me, and soon I learned not to cry when you decided to plow my body, a land for the taking. Parts of me started dying, and soon I was nothing but an empty shell with dampened eyes. You took, and took, until you got furious at me that there was nothing left to take. Sometimes I still sit in the corners of my bedroom silent because you loved me most when you saw me there, your tiny little ghost just waiting for you to make her disappear. And on some nights when I was with you, disappearing didn’t seem all too bad- you use to scare me enough that I wished you had removed the love marks you left on my alabaster skin. What we had was toxic, and I was on life support just to get by the fact that I was nothing more than your special object. Day after wretched day you tortured me with ‘I love you’s’ and smacks across the face that caused blood to erode from my cheeks. My voice started to shake and yelps came through my mouth when you decided that my contorted body was a pleasure worth seeing, that my pain was the very essence of why you ever loved me to begin with. I can’t remember the first day you started to push me under, but I know that when you did you would never let me come up out of that black water for more than 3 seconds, just so I could get another gasp of air to last me a couple of more months. I will never regret the time you told me I was worth more than you, because maybe that was your healthy conscience talking. Maybe you could have loved me better. Maybe I could have listened more.

All I can say is that I will never forget the time you choked me hard enough that I couldn’t breathe; that you smacked my head so hard against our bedroom wall that the snap sent my brains splattering across what was now your floor.  


Nov 2015 · 708
the soberness of july
it wasn't suppose to be you;
a trip to the woods in the night,
you eyeing me as if i was prey
and me taking it as a compliment.
seeing stars at 2am, i staggered towards you for a rush of heat-
the universe unfolding before me with the substances you gave me a hour before
instead of protecting me, you had other plans
tempting me through my nerve endings, my orifices, my weak spots.
suddenly, amidst your rough hands and pulling and shoving down my body
i am transported to a land of innocence.
the mother Mary smiles at me wickedly, god laughing and spitting secrets in her ear
the grass going from emerald green to the rotting colour of brown
claws scratch at my body too violently for pleasure and i scream "no, stop, stop"
but before i awake from my slumber filled with nightmares and childish screams
your shadow is gone, your evidence left inside me
and i cry through my heart like a stubborn child
trashing around on the floor and being bitten by bugs as
the roses within my mind die out and the smell of innocence is ripped from my chest
it wasn't suppose to be you;
and yet it was.


Your face is godly; i have never seen something so beautiful. I could trace my fingers over it for eternity and never get tired of the secrets I find within every stroke of my finger tips.
Your eyes, shine a dull crystal blue- they hold the care of a father within them. You tell me you love me with them, without words, and I know in that moment I am home.
Your hands seem old, but they look like they can hold all the problems in the world- that you can close in your fists to a million glass shards between your fingers.
Your arms are like vines. i imagine when I first return to them, if they will wrap around me and never let me go.
Your body is a temple. i visit it as much as I can, hoping for an entry to give up my next prayer. i don't have to speak, because it knows me, and it protects me when I need it most. I am grateful for your body.
Your heart is magnificent. A roaring *****, a romantic rose, your heart never fails to woo the tempted children that press their ears against your wooden chest. I wonder when you see me, naked or clothed, if it has ever skipped a beat. If it has ever jumped out of your chest like mine has with you.

I am sorry it has taken me so long to realize the beauty within simplicity. I had never taken the time to recognize these things about you; to register your honest and pure love for me. I was too busy with my activities, my life, to finally stop and look at you once with cleared eyes.
I now walk to my death bed. I know when you love another, I will officially be gone. The dirt will fill my lungs, the regret of another's hands will sting the womanly parts of me while sobbing will ensue. I understand what has to be done but I don't want it to. I want to breathe and be yours and feel your warmth within my body when you ****** one last time into me. I want to become tangled in your arms and assure you I will be here this time. I want to run my hands through your hair, kiss your lips, and give you the world. I want you to be happy and glowing and simply magnificent. I want all these things that I can't have- because I am on my death bed, and you will eventually love another- which is why I must go... and pass on.

-we must move on to grow

Aug 2015 · 644
white and red.
white walls
tiny windows
heavy breathing stains the walls in coughed up bubbles coloured red
pure sheets on hard mattress break the very bone of your back
as you lay here alone.
the songs of the one you use to love send gun shots into your chest
as you lay still, waiting for the enemy to attack.
bodies piled on bodies you recognize the stench of death that once plagued your mind
and committed sins on your wrists
but you fight so hard to release yourself but the water keeps coming in
and soon your lungs are like a fish tank; your filter will be clean but the water never emptied
the march of your enemies sound closer now
and mother Mary watches down with a bruised face and a contorted body
you want to scream but nothing comes out
and you know she cries for you when you're sleeping
while God sits back and controls the show
you've been here, you've seen your life ahead of you all before
so breath in, breath out, your chest will collapse
and remember to relax, remember to relax
let the darkness consume you
while the tears stain the sheets--

-white and red

Jul 2015 · 888
your poem.
running in perfect circles,
but there's no where left to run.
another day you've moved on without me,
i guess you've already won.
there's nothing to do, there's nothing to say
except chase away the sun
and when I'm with you and I close my eyes
i know we're already done.

there's no point to remind me,
there's no point to try to care
you're actions speak louder than your words
trust me, I've been there.
despite you saying you need me, and that you love me too
i know you think of other women when I'm not with you.

i try to remind myself that
good people never lie
but you're good person image is slowly fading in my eyes.
you told me that when you're with me
you seem to be complete
but how can you be complete
when all you see me as is a piece of meat?

what I don't understand, and what I try to
is why you do what you do
and the answer is obvious and scary but
i'm still in love with you.
it kills me just to say that, like poison in my food
but if I don't say it, either way,
i know I'll follow through.

you leave me at the perfect times,
the times when I'm alone.
is that why you tried to disregard my cries
when I was drowning and you were afloat?
slowly but surely I faded down
and you'd promise to be there
and you were there- I must admit-
to see me take in nothing but water and little air.

so here's my poem to you
the one to make you glad,
remember you destroyed a woman
and took everything she had.

-you made the book

Jun 2015 · 966
letters to a friend series
there are times where i remember everything you have given me. you taught me the best things and the worst. you taught me how to love with all my heart, and how to hate with every inch of my soul. there are times where i remember the way you use to look at me. when you use to pay attention, nod your head in awe of what i had to think, of what i had to feel. you use to look so golden, even underneath the moons pale gaze and the cigarette smoke against your breeze-chilled skin. i use to look like a ghost. only visible to your eyes. there are times where i remember everything you told me. remembering that i have the power to leave the cold bath water if i pleased. that i had the power. you use to always be there for me. you always use to protect me when i needed it the most. i could call you and you'd be waiting for me on the other end. i always did the same for you. i still would. i remember the times you use to love me. when i was your favourite, and we'd dance around in the darkness, unafraid and young. before our cigarettes turned stale, our lipstick running out, you use to love me. it seems now the track has stopped, the feelings gone; unamused and full of malice, you used to love me. you used to. and now you've used me entirely.

-the first layer

Jun 2015 · 467
hells burning grounds
steam sticks to my body
a lightened breath escapes my chest
its just another one of all the rest
my vision is going blurry, i can't seem to forget anymore
i wish they'd be able to see my dead body on the floor
its too hard to see, too hard to breathe, too hard to ever be me
i can't find myself amongst the steam
and the bath water turns colder than ice and my bones start to freeze
and i can feel my heart being pulled on a leash
keep pulling it, drag is across the glass shards until it bleeds
cover my mouth and smack me when I scream
i can't bare to live this life anymore, let the currents take me under the sea
but what hurts the most is what people want me to be
that I want to be that, but something stops me
like the dark room, the chains, the humility
i remember that one day where they all touched me and now I can't even look at my own body
i can't compliment myself sincerely
i can't look good in the eyes of those who love me
i can't speak on behalf of this or else they'll catch me
so let me rot, let me go down
deep into hells burning grounds.


home is where the yelling subsides into waves crashing on the shore
where gnawing teeth turn swiftly to the gentle pale blue sky
to cut through its slumber and infinite beauty
between my sheets my body lies naked
i touch gods cheek, his hands and then chest-
a million tiny clouds dangle over snake shaped rivers as he caresses my inner thighs
bruising them with purple, blue, black
there is a bleeding orifice between our love.
a heart floating within the stomach
a lung touching the brain
running noses, sleeping men with their prostitutes, crying children
a symphony of average humanity
in the land of ancient gods we fly
inside me a galaxy unfolds.


Mar 2015 · 523
golden and in flesh.
drive me up north where the ****** pierce the sky with devilish cries
two children lost, each descending from the sky
contains a secret and inner desire
four legged monster crawl up my thigh
deteriorate under the hands you once saw golden and in flesh
your feeble bones are no match for me.
eyelids will drop in the midst of a beautiful sunrise
symphonies of blue, pink and grey
and we laugh like lost lovers
stuck between light and dark
when you finally take off my two piece white dress you will unravel the universe before you
a cosmic eruption between ribs and thighs
wet ******* and lace in graved in skin
cherry on top with a strawberry milkshake
a spectacular explosion.

-your golden babe

Mar 2015 · 544
i am yours.
there is an alabaster rising in the sun
as bodies cramp against each other
a slow release with hands casting each other aside-
a ****** lip is not just metaphorical for violence but pure, spring love
an angelic symphonic body of noise that preaches a tale of disparity and dependence
it was heard in the way you stalled your guitar chords
and the way you gracefully held your breath.
there was a moments relapse where i was naked and sprawled out on the floor
where i let my monstrous feelings know that i was willing to let them take me under
and despite this you finally heard my croaked yell for help
and now here you are-
my love, my lover,
amidst your busy darkened schedule you are here with me
so much that you would seep into the suns golden rays and a mornings frost bitten kiss
to protect me and tell me that
i am yours.

-my pledge to you

Mar 2015 · 442
dreamed up dressing rooms.
the gentle mascara that moulds her eyelashes clings to the white pillow cases
a mixture of doubts and heavy breathing underneath
the suffocating sky awakens
an ancient feeling within her damaged heart
head swaying, shaking back and forth
piercing the night sky with her pained screams yet no one comes to her rescue
no one attempts to once hold the dying woman as she spends her time
watching her empty life like a tragic movie
every moment after wretched moment
16 years that had 99 issues and 1 solution that she could never attain
she was never able to be okay
the gun now speaks a somber song
of love and death and immortal happiness
when the pain is vanquished and the night becomes still
that is when her soul will leave this world
and all you'll have left is a childish laugh
and a mascara stained pillow.

-crying will always be in fashion

Mar 2015 · 887
love my boy
loose bones move around my body
dissolving tums and pills
drinking alcohol, sangria filled lungs
desert kisses and the poisoning of the eye
bleeding with the dying ******
swaying to the sound of his slow beating heart
a painted tiger and a burst of hearts
a feeling of rough hands against my *******
moaning to the vibrations of your vinyl collection
teenage death girls and the penalty of life
a monstrous collage of satin sheets and tongue against bodies
drinking orange juice from collarbones and hips,
pink wine, black wine, bottles on your lips
as you burn, die, dissolve
at last, a wine that tastes besides the vine
besides the vine.

-i'm loving you loving me boy

Mar 2015 · 2.6k
the lilac and the wolf.
angel headed rockers with devil horns in their pants
strong tasting whiskey and thick blood to match
my god baby
you're such a catch.
pull up on your black motorcycle
take me to the 70's
lace *******, ******* angel
daddy's eyes starring straight at me.
the weight of a lovely, crushing reality.
******* eyes, green blue, blue
red and brown hair
finally no more twos.
white dolly dress strolling in the secret garden;
you pull it down swiftly
ravish me.
kissing the wounded parts of you,
i make you ***
a soft, somber release
identified pleasure, well earned glory.
poems scattered on the floor, all noise but my favourite is the sound of your happy heart-
grown man hands on fragile, naïve backs.
a passionate fire between pants, minds and hearts,
a sudden hard kiss on my lips...

-ravish me

Feb 2015 · 1.8k
teenage experience.
I remember being friends with a girl who spoke like a fawn and was as thin as a stick. Her face naturally beautiful, her eyes gleaming with happiness. A pageant queen. A cheerleader. But when she told me about protein shakes as fillers for meals I learnt that the happiness was fake. No matter how much she got, who she saw and met, no matter how many "Miss Teen Canada" titled she won, she would be unhappy. She has constant girlfriends come and go, each her own lovely and unique thinspiration; a collage of limbs and bones she aspired to be. Her obsessions took a hold of her for six years, making her sad, delusional, crazy, until the point she hit the 89 pound mark. Until she ended back up in a hospital. I told her I cared. I meant it, too, but I knew the voices in her head were all too loud to hear my truth of her. The truth of a brilliant, talented girl. Sometimes being called "beautiful" is not always a compliment"

I know a boy of european descent. Born in Bulgaria, raised in Canada for just a couple of years. His English got really good after sixth grade, and that's when we finally became friends. I guess now you can say we're best friends. To my expected surprise he turned out to be gay. And to my surprise, it seemed like there was something deeper. He recently sold himself, something that can now only be a shell or a casket. His parents didn't know he was 29. Or that he was gay. i thought about all the fun times- all the sassiness, the dumb jokes, the radio job- and it made me think how much of that was for show. A fake smile. A talented, lively comedian. One that hid behind crude jokes that portrayed a reality all too real to him. Someone who has silently suffered for far too long. I wish he didn't. I wish he didn't have to hide. I am always scared that his last word he hears will be a derogatory one.

There was a girl I was very jealous of. She was my best friend, and creativity flowed through her like a waterfall starting at her heart. She was everything I wanted to be- intelligent, beautiful(in the natural stunning way) and thin. She was so thin. She had impeccable music taste, and we bonded over that. Despite the ******* rock we use to hit the **** to, she enjoyed classical music. She liked being alone. And although she was a self proclaimed optimist, she would hide away her guilt and sadness. I knew she was like me. We both took cold showers while we layed on the bath floor, hoping our hearts would freeze. We would walk the streets of downtown Toronto, praying that the night would swallow us whole. We would *** smokes off of older men in hot leather that rode Harley Davidson's that secretly wanted to **** us. And our cigarette smoke would stick to our summer-kissed skin, and id be even more jealous of how she became tanner and I began to look like a pale little ghost. She was lovely but cheated on. A young looking boy with a galaxy of freckles on this universal boy-band face. He ended up being wrong. The galaxy turned dark black, the boy-band tunes into soft, somber cries. Her cries. I remember having to sit back and watch while I rolled a spliff; I thought about it when I was being caressed too. Optimism can make you see brighter days, but it doesn't stop the hurting your heart will face.

There was a boy I knew who use to smoke his lungs away with **** and french kissed death with pills drowning in alcohol. There was a boy I knew who always use to skip class, but came every once in a while to let the teacher know he was alive. The boy grew too fast, or maybe too slow, or both. One part to reliable and the other too aware. He knew all the causes but never the solutions. He would always fight with anger because he never knew love. No one ever loved him. Instead, i picture him going home, parents neglecting him as he, the lost boy, goes up to his room. Closes the door, drops the blinds, cries. "Be a man" the voices say, but he can't tonight. He focusses too ******* the pain (it's finally something he can focus on). And there was this boy, who dug his nails into his palms, drank until he couldn't see; swinging punches and hitting air as his opponent was strung out on the other side of the room. I never knew if lost boy would cut himself to drain out his sadness or if he snorted more lines to forget what was lying in front of him. I wondered show long it would take lost boy to put the gun to his head and call it quits, how long till his name flashed on the news. Lost boy eventually drowned himself in the bottle, finished the pills, ran out of money and now we don't ever hear from him. He's just lost.

-teenage experience

This was a very important piece for me to write. Each paragraph is symbolic and explains someone I know and the struggles that they are going through. This can be related back to real life teen issues arising in todays society. This includes eating disorders, acceptance from the straight community if you're gay/any other ****** orientation, being cheated on and substance abuse. I would appreciate if everyone read and respected this piece, as I stated before that these are real teenage experiences. Thank you.
Feb 2015 · 579
there are flowers where my scars once bled
there is always a sun behind my grey sky
there is a heart that belongs to me
and mine to him
a hand to hold, a laugh exchanged between friends
a lovely text
a caring thought and a listening ear
flowers are blooming everywhere
a strangers gentle smile
a comforting drizzle of rain
extra cream cheese bagels and chocolate milk
rock music, pop music, classical music
warm baths, no more cold old water
i am still hurt but I am getting there
and I am alive, I am alive, I am alive.


Wrote this because I'm feeling good and refreshed.
Jan 2015 · 915
sixteen. (part 3)
little girl with the green eyes and the soft skin
the one with the ruffled socks and the innocent touch
there are tears streaming down your face.
and as your eyes get puffy and your breathing intensifies
you'll ask yourself why you're even crying.
and among the men and the bar fights and the smell of your dolly friends cigarettes
you will shine the brightest. your eyes, gleaming with hope, will captivate the right man, make him drop to his knees.

and you little girl, wipe off your ***-red lipstick, put back on the cream coloured lace ******* and go back to sleep
do not grow too old too fast;
remember to play your favourite record and read your favourite book.

little girl, I've seen that face before
cover up your honey touched limbs, close your beautiful eyes, do not think of their touch
try not to think of the war raging outside.
and why let any man tangle you in his sheets?
why let any man inside you so easily?
you never felt enough, did you feel like enough, little one?

shield yourself, mask the pain
put out the cigarette, listen to the record
go back to sleep.


Part three of the Sixteen series.
Jan 2015 · 841
sixteen. (part 2)
summer nights, outdoor bar fights, the smell of alcohol on men's breaths
cigarette fumes from her dolly friends and the smell of leather in her hands
***** converse and scraped knees
tired eyes and gentle caressing
tired, tired little girl
getting lost within a big world-.

tangled in white silk sheets, listening to his records
while he fixes them a drink
hair smelling of perfume, her body soft as satin
and the pillows like beautiful pastel clouds
silent shifting and awkward positioning, don't touch her or get too close.
tired, tired little girl
getting lost within a big world.

*******, auburn hair, scarlet lips, soft sighs
brushing her hair over 100 times
little girl, little girl, where are you going?
painted red lips and your pale limbs showing
hair up in braids and your legs lovely but barley clothed yet
tired, tired little girl
return to sleep
don't get lost within this big world.

-the middle

Just a continuation from my 'Sixteen' series.
Jan 2015 · 1.6k
sixteen. (part 1)
tight silk ******* with the lilac bra to match,
cream coloured knee high socks.
a collection of classic rock on vinyl and a compliments jar covered in news articles.

too many celebrity perfumes, but a versace collection that makes her think of the beach;
peach smelling deoderant.

chapter books on the floor accompanied by hair ribbons of baby blue and cotton candy pink,
****** by Vladimir Nabokov laying near the juvinile pale legs of beautiful sixteen,
as she paints each toe nail red, pink, white.

almost naked body, remember her tight, fresh lace set
hair perfectly auburn, lips perfectly light coral
mouth slightly open
Led Zepplin playing.
hairspray and rose powder,
unlit vanilla candles and twilight scented creams
she smells faintly of Modern by Banana Repulic and her daddy's cigarettes.

silently waving, a flag of patriotism
the beautiful, elegant sixteen.

-part 1

Jan 2015 · 932
dear media.
dear media;
my body is art.
**** your opinion and your ideals on what I should be
because I am living, breathing art.

my face shows young beauty,
inspiration and awe found in my eyes
and just beneath the pupil, a shimmer of excitement.

my lips have said so much, they seem to be so ripe with the words they speak,
they send daggers
yet stay plump and baby pink.

and what about my arms? they have endured so much,
every cut, bruise, and punch for a lonely night or the feeling of not being good enough.
they allow me to write my words;
hold those up plagued with the feeling of being alone
my arms, they are strong.

my stomach is like a mountain and
next time I'm in bed the man I'm with will understand as he
runs his fingers between every space of each rib and kisses my stomach,
down to my inner thighs and back up again.

and my thighs, still fresh and wild
dangle and jump at the mere sight of adventure
wrap around a mans waist to make him feel better and
kiss him on the cheek with the lips I spoke of before.

my brain will hold and absorb galaxies,
an endless universe unfolding before me and
i will take in each bit and dream of it at night because;

i am ambitious, diligent, strong and talented,
and yet I can still be
soft and caressed and fragile but,
media, society, never mistake my kindness for weakness because
i will take the food you feed me and spit it right out because
my body and mind is worth much more.

dear media;
my body is art,
and you will not be the artist.

Happy new years everyone! I just want to thank you for the endless support I get although I don't have much work up. I wrote this little poem because one of my resolutions is to love myself more. I spent so much time in 2014 obsessing over my weight, and now im ready to be healthy and not worry so much about it. Thanks once again and have a great new year!!
Dec 2014 · 867
make love.
how i wish you were here,
tangled up in my sheets
skin against skin, hands,
tracing the very outline of every orifice the slight
tugging from behind me and the sudden need to have you inside of me
i wish it were all here.
and we wouldn't need to **** like everyone else,
we would make love;
and it would mean something more than just anything because
i love you, and you love me
which means that we'll give each other a piece of our hearts
if not our whole hearts.
there will be fast paces and girlish moans, squirming and
everything that you can both hide and enjoy in between sheets because
i love you, and you love me.
you will touch every inch of my body, kiss every inch of my skin and i will gladly let you
take over me, lick me wherever you want and easily
slide yourself in me because thats what we'll want
and how amazing will it be to make love and feel loved afterwards?
when its all done and the night has finally settled
and the stars take their usual place back in the sky and ill lay
naked in your arms, my ears listening to your heart beat with an easy thump
and you will say nothing but look at me and kiss me, and mutter i love you
and i will say it back;
because regardless if we are naked, or clothed, or fighting, sad, angry or happy,
i love you, and you love me.

-mutual feelings

Dec 2014 · 837
go on.
i stare outside my bedroom window
wondering where my soul has gone,
my personality,
my hope.
instead of organs I carry inside me burdens of ex lovers, of mistakes, of abuse,
i remember when I use to shine the brightest.
it is so hard to see when you are blinded amidst tear gas
people pushing and shoving
black holes for eyes, no hearts in sight
i wish to one day repair them.
i wish one day to repair myself
it seems to be an impossible task
a momentary relapse of heart ache, of bleeding arms and bleeding legs
a momentary relapse of euphoria and then down again we go
it hurts when all you can do is sit around and wait for someone to clean the wounds just to tear them open with their teeth once again.

dad, did you do it again?
slide in your poison-
did you think you could ever own me?
mom, did you do it again?
pump your fears, your dreams, your failures into my blood, my soul, my slow beating heart?

i can't seem to go on anymore.

how am I suppose to love when the birthmarks on my arms are really scars,
when the holes in my chest are past heart breaks,
sleep breaks, smoke breaks, coke brakes, **** brakes
how am I suppose to love?
the snow covers an icy cold blanket around my mind,
freezing all the bad and good thoughts
and suddenly everything goes black.

-where am i?

Dec 2014 · 936
whispered sky song.
if you exist
take me now;
take me to the heavens where tears are forbidden
where the scars on my arms turn heavenly pure
where I cannot hurt.
if you exist
cleanse me of my pain;
teach me to be kind to others and myself
teach me to not fall again at the hands of evil or kiss the lips of destruction
do not let me burn the spoon.
if you exist
allow me to lay with the angels;
allow me to float softly through my nightmares, to wipe my own tears
to hold him tight when I cannot reach him at all
lord, please bring him to me.
please bring back my soul
so that I may understand what there is to understand
to love my family and friends unconditionally
to turn the other cheek when he betrays me.  
to fall in love with another and myself.
teach me to waltz underneath the moonlight when I am feeling forgotten so that I may know
that I am not alone.
father, please,
let me touch the pink marmalade skies
once and for all.


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