Sunrise, all so bright
A new start for my life
Fresh skin, new eyes
Awake beneath the endless skies

Nature’s beauty, whisper of trees
A fleeting gift upon the breeze

Enjoy it now, it won’t stay
There is sunset that always comes again
Light fades—darkness whispers its place
Symbol of decay comes every day

Still sunrise, no surprise
Leaving lessons deep inside
Remember—change to shine

But still, it sets again
Light fades and dawn returns again
The sun never stay the same

I peel my skin to find the verse—
each line a nerve, each word a curse.
My fingers crack, the ink runs red—
I bind the poem, stitch the dead.

The page is meat. I carve it clean.
The stanzas pulse. The gaps still scream.
I press my voice through shattered teeth,
then choke it back in paper sheaths.

The world wants sugar, quick and bland—
a feeding trough, not sleight of hand.
It gorges on what’s soft and safe,
then spits me out, still torn and chafed.

They scroll past entrails shaped like truth,
preferring memes to bleeding youth.
I gut myself for depth and grace,
but all they see’s a blank, bruised face.

I nailed my heart to every page—
they laughed and said, “You’re just a phase.”
The words rot slow beneath the glass,
while bots applaud what cannot last.

They drained the soul from every shelf,
left only echoes of the self.
And still I write, while maggots hum
inside the mouth my lines come from.

I cough up metaphors and bile,
They call it “grim” and click “unstyle.”
Yet here I stand, spine sharp with spite,
my hands flayed raw, refusing flight.

This isn’t art that begs to please—
I write in wounds, not symphonies.
Let trend and comfort feed the swine,
my blood is real. These guts are mine.

Reality is so unreliable. In the water of life we surf the wave of chance. Rise or fall as hunters in the snow. The isolating future is already here. But people are still people, they still need each other. The anachronistic branch of knowledge we are dedicated to - the day in, day out - is a deluded science. It is we who would be the objects of enquiry and fascination to an alien mind. Humanity is the true wonder, the true miracle.

If I could transcribe behind your eyes,
I’d see the times they’ve sunk and cried,
The shadows of pain you’ve held inside,
And all the needs you’ve been denied.

You don't speak much on heartache,
Or insecurities you can’t shake,
Breaches of trust, being treated unjust,
Are there fears left concealed, undiscussed?

If I could dive inside your lovely mind,
Swim through your veins, us intertwined,
I’d find exactly how your heart perceives,
Study the language your love receives.

Maybe it's the 'I love you's throughout the day,
Or these poems, though limited in what I can say,
Even a warm meal after work on a cold day,
Or perhaps it's those weekends we spent away.

Mapping responses to our conversations
And how you react to my love demonstrations
I’m looking for clues, all sorts of indications,
Fine tuning the way I love with my observations.

I’ll narrow in, long as you continue to share
Your reception of love–please make me aware,
For, finding your love language is all that I care,
I’ll express my love, I solemnly swear!