Songs are contracts you make
Every song you sing is a contract added to the pile of chain that ground you
In what? You say
Hunny
you are the judge of that

I hope it felt weird when he touched you,
and it didn't feel like me.
When he stroked your cheek,
and his hands weren't soft like mine.
I want to be remembered,
in every kiss you receive,
in every touch.
He's not worthy to be loved by you,
no one is.
How could he have won your heart so fast I wonder?
So quick you are,
to want love again.

handcuffed to the wheel
shadow on stairs
bones aching to break
shadow in room
knives in drawers
purple toes
purity of night
bathtub in death
a
puddle of gore

If  I die it was always -----. I'd chose her til the day I die. I wish she were a boy. So we could do it right.

I write down
What I can’t say

Feelings and emotions
That are stuck in my head
Flow out of me
When I type
Unprocessed thoughts
A cacophony of feelings

But I’m starting to say
What the pen once did

Do I still need to write?

Kalea Kalea
I stare at her from my seat
She always surprises me I can’t look away
Laughing eyes
She tries her best to be true
She hates the fakes
Loves underlying truth
Happy thoughts
I can’t stop smiling
My heart feels joy and her person is ecstatic
Souls, safe
Your spirit’s safe with me
I keep you in my heart beside Chau and Rush
Hugs from you
I love when we embrace
I know sometimes you can’t make up your mind whether or not we’re friends
Kalea Kalea
Nothing you do
Now, or later
will force me to love you less
You’ll be in my heart till time has passed away

I forget that reading week
Has a hold on me
Five fingers wrapped around my throat
Holding me under
Under the sheets
Trapped in my head
Fighting myself
And the thoughts that bubble over after being hidden for so long
Are deafening

Sipping on happiness,
Sadness withering away
as the sun lingers on my skin.
It’s a beautiful day today.

On my right,
The creativity is thriving
Minds are filled with abstraction;
She can’t be stopped.
The pencil moves as colour imprints
With the magic of a hand,
This is all human doing.
Her mind is as beautiful as this day
The sun shining
is the highlight of her drawing
The rich soil
Is the colour she creates
The wind
Is the way her hand moves.
Thé Chai is right in front of me
It’s a bright day today.

I have to think of you as a memory. Neither a happy nor sad one, just a memory. When we meet again it will be like seeing an old friend or lover, a distant memory of the time once shared.

I can feel
Her presence
From across
The room
Her quick glances
And drunken desires
Her hand
Slipping
Into mine
The blanket uncovering
Our tender feelings

They know
Now

Writing through water
Thinking through dirt.
Brain, getting fuzzy.
really? don’t lie.
Study? I cannot.
Make me do it!
Please, make me do it..
Me, I, seeks help.
I can’t think the same,
I’m not the same.
Homework, tall brick wall,
Sports, I can do,
Essay, felt the tear,
I want to scream,
But I feel nothing.
It’s not a thing
Yet, but hopefully
Soon, I won’t fail.
But I will fall down
And never get up.

I carved freedom into my skin

I didn't have the heart to tell you
that it'd be over
before it even began

When your mind attacks you, you can’t focus on anything else except surviving

Minute, by hour, by day
Until it fades
Becoming a soft hum in the background

Why did they make us believe it was bad? That we were "criminals" for how we felt?
HE KILLED HIMSELF
for the feelings he could not control.
So why
did my parents keep quiet when the topic came around.
Did they believe the same?
That we were monsters in need of curing?