I remember when I was young and I believed in the trees and all the things they’d sing to a sinner with open hands. My sorrows were built in the Eden of their glory, the leaves whispering verse of such uncharted sands.

These are the king of lands that swells but I shall never grow old in.

I think that the heart is too impatient now with time forsaking nature’s whimsical glance, why haven’t we the space to pray anymore? Why?

These questions grasp at me endlessly and yet the answers remain elusive still.
Old as the grave, I am now a wandering human. Yet, caught again between the trees. I carelessly step upon the branches of the things I once worshiped in state of my youth.

The saddest day in my life is today,

Skies gloomy and dark, whisking the grey

Its not really sad just somber,

I hate sobriety too!

--

Birds chirped in rows but forgot to change their feathers thereafter,

Pupils read and everyone sat silent yet talking in the midst.

--

I felt sad - just because.

A violet bag to my front and a bottle of stale water to my right.

--

I saw how my friends laugh at their jokes,

Jokes I found funny too,

Heard mine, as well, but only some laughed.

--

Then again, I’m not a comic,

I don’t live to tell the truth,

Hated the life I’m wrought into - with a price of sand.

--

Everything just piled up in me, and I collapsed,

The building that is mine, has become ash!

Sad that such olden design being faded,

Not even the villainous could ever redeem!

--

Try as I might - all's for naught,

Laughter and fun don't work anymore,

See myself as barrier and hinder

To everyone else's joy;

But then again, everyone's ***** and stone

Which is more rotten to the bone.

--

What is the price of happiness?!

I'd have shouted to the gods,

Queries unanswered and left to rot,

Yet has traded like the air.

--

The saddest part:

I never knew what caused such great sadness,

Maybe I've felt too empty like a juiceless coconut shell,

Lost of jewels and black pearls, maybe.

I could only hope for the better;

And if not - just some good weather

Let us eat

In splendor of life

Which you give me

By making me love thee

-

The sadness ripped

Up in the shreds

And joyful once more

-

Yuletide ne'er bring much

But thou presence sure

-

When you greet me

I smile

Like a child seeing new presents

And like ne'er before

-

Unresolved is some

My problems alone

You love me no

You do not

-

Please just love me

I beg you

I tear in knees

Please

-

In tears

I cry in sorrow

Slumber is the joy

And the living in me

Long dead so

-

I walk away

You do not chase

Nor do you call

You simply look

On and on

-

The accordions play

Romance in the fog

Dreary as a frog

Imaginary life

Like one midnight

In the city of lights

-

The snows trudges my boot

Both are wet

Frozen too

I tear little now

Merry kindred songs

While i am whisked away

-

Palms now sweating

Freezing by waist

Chained around

Like a serpent

-

Why does it begin

Ne'er the query

Always the end

But not the start

-

I enter the hole

That built for mine

The light turned on

And the place spotless

I silently sob

Whence I'm alone

Without them

Beside me

Where I want them

To be

I don't really want to die, I want things to get better. And I'm trying so hard to believe things could get better but I've been trying for like 8 years and I still want to die. I can't keep going like that, can't keep trying and trying for nothing. I am so tired. So if that's how everything's always gonna be I might as well give up.

Don’t get overly comfortable with the people you are forced to share spaces with, maintain a level distance and mystery about yourself around them. At work, school, or any other communal place, don’t overshare and get too cozy with people. Remain professional and adopt a specific character while you’re in those places. By not letting others get too comfortable around you you are protecting your most vulnerable side and others won’t know where to attack you from, don’t let others think they know you. You only see people’s faces, you don’t know their hearts and what their true colors are. Self-preservation is key not just for success but for basic survival.

I kept drinking because it was the only time I felt alive.
I kept drinking because I needed to stop thinking of jumping off the edge.
I wanted to drown myself in something other than the melancholy feeling that surrounded me.
I kept drinking to forget about the scars that covered my body, sometimes I think there's more scar than skin.
I kept drinking to forget all the places his hands had been even though I said no.
I kept drinking because sometimes I didn't want to feel alive, I wanted numbness. I wanted to feel numb and blurry all over.

We were depressed but because we had each other we pretended that we weren't.
We pushed it down the same way we pulled our sleeves down over our arms and hoodies over our heads hoping no one would notice.
But that was the thing, we couldn't fix each other.
We needed to fix ourselves.
We needed real love, love within,
love for ourselves before trying to love each other.
I let him go.
He let me go.
He found himself at the bottom of a bottle of ***** and
I still walk around at night hoping that I'll see something familiar, maybe a glimpse of myself

You love me. How simple that sounds and seems and it is, while at the same time it's not. It is hard when you love, to truly love the person and not the ilusion, not the idea you've made up wearing their face clothed in the expectations you have of them.    


Accepting and embracing imperfection, making forgiveness a permanent room in your heart, having the courage to walk in a person's light as well as his darkness, all those things are not easy.

Having your dream of them die is not easy, and yet it must in order to truly love for people are meant to be loved as wholes not just as the pieces of them we adore. People are meant to be loved fully, with forgiveness and abounding grace, for love is the closest thing to the divine that we will ever embrace.

he was gawky and she was gorgeous and he was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. so he walked back to his room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, he was the drizzle and she was the hurricane.

sainthood is a death sentence. alina mourning her own self as she is claimed piece by piece. the hand she dies by is the only choice that remains hers after this loss of a normal life, a normal love. i cannot be your saint anymore, she apologises, cursed to be matryred. but inej never wanted a normal love. she never needed a boy to bring her favourite flowers, she just needed a knife pressed into her hands. you are not cursed, she says, you are loved by me.

sometimes
on late thursday afternoons
when the day was longer
than the night expected
and the coffeepot emptied
before the first lunch break
when every inch of muscle hurts
most of all that one called brain
on days like that
in moments like these
there can be nothing more beautiful
than utter
silence

I want to look drowned in fabric when I wear someone elses sweater. I want them to lift up the hem and be shocked at how little I am underneath. I want them to pick me up and sit me on their lap, still suprised at how I weigh nothing. I want them to **** me standing up, I want my legs to be dangling in the air when they pound me from behind. I want to be held down with ease when I'm squirming from pleasure. I want their hands to be able to wrap around my entire waist as they slam into me. I want to be told "You're too small and weak for that" when I try to dominate them

some people think I'm weak
when I cry during the weekend
but really
I've been holding
everything trap
in a fist


some people think
am easily scared
cause am
tiny,
sweet
but really I've looked in the face of fear and yelled
at it to go away

people assume am that my
vulnerableness
is a personality trait
were they use it as their weapon
for my indecisive manner
but they don't hear the way I
sleep at night

the things that hurt you do not deserve to hold your hand. pain may be familiar, but it is not a friend.

I wonder what kind of girl I would be if the patriarchy didn’t exist.      

If gender roles and stereotypes didn’t stain my entire being.

If I didn’t suffer at the hands of misogyny that molded the clay that was me. I wonder what I would do, what I would say, what I would like, what I would crave, what I would be.

The likelihood of us being anything close to similar seems slim considering how many things could be different.


I just wonder what type of woman I would be if I hadn’t been told from the day I was born how and who I should become. Would I still enjoy wearing makeup if I hadn’t been conditioned to feel better about myself with it on? Would my favorite color still be orange if pink hadn’t been forced on me and I didn’t care to make a point of rejecting it? Would I stand up for myself more if I hadn’t been taught to cater to the comfort of others before prioritizing my own? Would my natural instinct still be to feel wary of those around me if abuse and harassment and assault were not normalized in our society?


Would I still want long hair if I hadn't been brainwashed into believing that my beauty is rooted in being feminine, and that my value is rooted in being beautiful? Would I be the same? How much, or how little, would that impossible girl resemble me as I am now? And are my interests and passions genuine—truly mine—or can they all be linked to some expectation to accommodate, some predetermined role to serve, some juxtaposing desire to please a system I don’t even like.


Do I actually love video games as much as I think I do, or do I only like them because I think it makes me appear cooler to men? Do I actually want to get married as much as I think I do, or do I only want to because historically that was where the female fit in? Do I actually find solace in journaling as much as I think I do, or do I only find solace in it because it is the only time I can share my traumatic experiences without being called a crazy attention seeker?


There is so much I wonder about, which parts of me are real and which have been tinkered with. Which is just pure me, and which is because of something else. A factor of the patriarch. Of course I’ll never know, but that truth does not keep me from being curious about the girl who does not suffer from the wrath of an internalized male gaze and the burden of internalized misogyny. I bet she is lovely—free of the shackles—and I hope she feels at peace.

, I taste the totality of her

the variety of textures that create the world of her body

the thin and thick of her skin the varying degrees of responsiveness when kissed

the layers deep, the tender shallows the arid, the lush the drenched

I speak in tongues to penetrate, lubricate stimulate and invigorate

blessing this ritual with enigmatic fervor

unworded                 unguided                                immersed

Life is  just one ibuprofen
                      
            After the other

      The
  Next
          Ibuprofen
Will fix me

Taking cover in small places
It now seems like random things can set it off
No warning

But you must of know exactly how to flicker the switch
Without using your fingertips

Huge disarray, around my
Quiver feets
Always your doings
But you’ll never realize it

I won’t tell
For am not gonna blow the whistle
Am far too honorable by making you denial of all my misery

So yes, when am conned again by your concocted
maternal bond

I can’t seem to find the perfect match to
Mellow down your rage,
Pressing my knees tightly to my gut
Quieten down, don’t want to
Cause another row.

So yes, I have indeed been lying
But only to protect you
So you don’t ever have to
Walk with ***** and chains

So yes, I sleep with the deadweight
So you can sleep peacefully
Suppose it loves
Or maybe I also being holding some
Buoyancy in my inconsiderable heart
I never let the formula spill.
It is our untidy secret.

Every deep breath through the nose
And the mouth is a conflict to end this…

Pattens
That I try to ignore
Once again my fault
Mistakes, disappointment that I cause
Make me jumpy
Sick to the pit of my tummy
Stem of tears
What is the worst to come of this

“ she asks if I’m crying”

I speak nice and slow as to
Not Trimble over my words
“no”

Tried but to traumatize
For sleep

discomfort in my chest

Tinker is beating too many beat

oh, how will I survive the night?

For this to be my last breaths
Surely I would become an overburden that she wouldn’t know how to bear.

Born  in an overloaded place called “earth?”
The first sight caused a carved in my right-eyed
Doctors name it being a narrowminded child!

I become what mother couldn’t bear “ troglodyte”
Father went flying to starsmost,
Leaving me with a pocket full of invisible spectators.
  

Left my walls painted in red
In Whos lesion that shall be unknown
My doppelganger downhearted my mother duties
Which left a burst vessel in my heart.

So now we go around playing catch fire with a wooden fork

I discovered my problem by letting it set wildfires around my forest

what hurts the most?
                            Physical paralyzes or mental paralyzes

you say shooting stars are for the doomed,
                   Doomed whos are always hoping for things of something
                        That shall be a far impossible arm length pain to reach…

                                    Now I know that I was doomed for a lot of things
                                              Doomed for even thinking, that loving a
                                       The bird that flys upon the highest branch tree top.

You are unexplored, unusual, and terrifyingly beautiful.


There will be boys, who are going to promise you forever in song, in poetry, in words that are so ****** pretty they will be hard to resist.

Beautiful,strong,independent.
Forever, they sigh.
But their forevers come with hidden terms.
Until you start dreaming too much,
Talking too loud,
Kissing too strong and debating too heatedly.




It, not a girl like they will say, you’re hard to understand, they will rationalize, difficult for any man to put up with let alone love…




They are going to make you doubt yourself, beautiful.
And even then even when they have wronged you,
You will reach inside yourself to find the things they are looking for.


You will talk a little softer,
Argue less,
Dreamless,
Let him kiss you instead,

STOP!...

Silhouette in smoke

Incense and amber

Soft and sensuous

The ache of spring--

Apple blossoms in

Outstretched palms

The lilac of sunset

A caress on a face

Upturned, the

Embrace of warm

Husky honey

Dripping from your lips

my hamburger hands

teeth and nerves and

need to control, destroy

how pretty the pain

an exquisite sting, some

ephemeral relief, a swallowed

song suddenly shifted

split apart like atoms

the stars swim into stark

abyss, this ethereal silence

I swallow color just

to spit back into black holes

dust if you must,
          
                  but wouldnt it be better


to paint a picture

    or


                        write a letter


bake a cake or plant a seed,

                                                 ponder the difference between want and need?

My hermit would never put me through all of  that,
My hermit would never mess with my screws the way you had.

You don’t give me peace of tranquil
Hermit would never behave the way you have

It would not have guilt-tripped me or scold me for all my  misfortunes


Hermit would never put me through a continual silence.
It would never let me play with the devil cards

You are the corrupt ally of the devil...

Well, would you?
                                                                ­                                              

                                                               ­   kiss me back,
                                                           ­                                         hold me for dear life,

                                                     cause I feel like am
                  the  only one,
                                                   fighting to
get back to happier times...



Times when
I had enjoyment
                              of
                                    the
company of
               people,
  

where smiles
                                             and
                           laughter
were true fondness of
fjaka...


Once again alive in my skin,
full of all hope and wisdom.
all were halcyon and humble
again.
stuck upon those lovestruck eyes  

numbing my pain
                          away,

                               ­               intensity
of you seeing
t
   h
       o
           u
               g
                    h

my nacked s I c k n e s s
                    was
                            n
                   o
           t
    h
i
   n
      g

but ALARMING.

m a y be   somewhere
               a
           l
    o
n
   g
the lines
  

I was nothing but  f  a  c  a  de
b
       y

m
          y

own   O  N  E  I  R  A  T  A  X  I  A


o
       h

for I hoped
              that
                     you
                         could
somehow
                   play
the
        part.

but
           the
                     r
            e
    a
l
i
    t
        y
was
      very
              much
s
t
r
a
i
g
h
t
f
o
r
w
a
r
d
                     I had
failed you
  

truth is i
                        never
  wanted
                 to
hurt
              you,
never
           my
intention,


                                                I­ never wanted
to
                        see  you cry
  

I never want
                            to
  push you
                          far
to
                         the
e
        d
                g
                    e.


                                                              ­             all I wanted was too
hug you
kiss you
love you for real,

                                                          ­    but I was
too dull
too tense
t
o
o
                quiet  
                              to
promise with all
my heart to you.

I was
                          infatuated
by
        your
presence,

                                      for I didn't

self-complacent
                                            in front
of my own mirror...

please understand
                                                      ­  it
                                      w
                        ­     a
                    s
never you but an all me
s
      o
           r
               r
                 y
  
for falling allowing you to fall off the edge of my world.
maybe it a
                                 m
                                e
                             ­   s
                                s
                          ­     a
                               g
                               e
      or
                             s
                            o
                          m
     ­                 e
                   t
                 h
               i
          n
      g

that two
                            broken paramours
c
    a
       n
           t
                                       make
a
                   good
story
                       for
our
              children.






then your ghost appears...
heard you familiar
voice
ringing bells
in my ears.
    
hearing and seeing
the dead was the
insane
job.

oh but
no
you
were
smiling with
all your
glory...
D  E  L I C A  T  E
F  E  A  T  U  R  E  S


but that day you were way more
beautiful form afar
distance.

where I could no longer
do damage.

if birthday wishes were relive
I would indeed
relive it
all
again,

but no, am just simply
lingering around the
darkness for you
shadow to reappear
"why wait," you ask

no comment,
                 ...