i took a route to eastwood
far off the end of a road that does not exist
i took a route
and was enticed by the aroma of growing freedom
kempt and hidden, underneath the soil and concrete
it was numbers away and off the grid
a name, almost too ordinary and typical
of what it offered, i did not know
but the uncertainty was what kept me going
a motivation for my augmenting footsteps
a sense of clarity for my clouded reasons and thoughts

i took a route to eastwood
far off the end and beyond the bustling surface
i took a route
and was enticed by the introverted trees featured alongside the lonely roads
of what it offered, i wasn't sure
but i welcomed the idea of a new beginning with open arms and an open heart
and a certainty for happiness

(n.j.)

i've been in a bad headspace for days so i decided to write a poem (untitled #17) but was unable to finish it yet despite feeling low i wanted to distract myself and not dwell on the bad thoughts. i thought i saved the poem as a draft but it turned out i posted it which in return received a lot of likes and a few comments.

so here is the continuation of the poem that i managed to finish during class:*

i woke up with a pain in my chest
a frantic pulse, beating and beating
i feel as though i've reached my end
my once dead now awakened cravings
are all that i have left
there is this hopelessness that refuses to subside
no matter what i offer or wish to abide
i cling to the funeral my mind
continues to fantasize
because no death is beautiful,
no cover up could disguise such hardships
and crumbling torment we hide

(n.j.)

i woke up with a pain in my chest
a frantic pulse, beating and beating
i feel as though i've reached my end
my once dead now awakened cravings
are all that i have left

there is this hopelessness that refuses to subside
no matter

as dusk spreads throughout,
i fall back to admire
not the zippo in hand
but the blazing fire
and the overhead skies
of the aging countryside

i taste the tenderness
of a sweet refrain,
not bitter nor sweet
i taste the yesterday
of the growing grains
and unsung poetry

my vision doesn't falter
for i see what i see
how the trees lean in closely
to the wind's whispers
and the grasping waters,
loving generously

maybe i'm selfish to only admire
to infect my body whilst
plunging in solitude,
waiting for the hours to die
but i am content,
with what i perceive
to diminish is one thing

but this, this is beauty

(n.j.)

at 15, i remember the close proximity of our breaths exchanging
ours, as in you and i farther like two souls searching for something that isn't there
i learned to bottle up emotions;
building walls yet having a door exclusively open, just for you
but i was young and naive,
what i had whole is now broken in two

(n.j.)