A little oval
The size of a been
It's green
And I'm not sure if it's taunting me
Or comforting me
But it's there
Staring

It's hard to believe
That something so small
Could change my big world

I know it will dissolve
Into many little workers
Trying to take the wheel of my brain
For my captain is evil
And they want to help me

Please do help me

I've tried everything else

the highs, the lows, the overdose
the nights alone, the empty phone
i wish i'd know where this would go
i would have got off long before
it broke the wings i used to soar
and left my heart an open sore
you don't know what you're in for
hey, what's your favorite dinosaur?

I fell for him, not in whispers or sighs,
But in crescendos, in rhythms, in skies
Painted with notes that danced in the air,
Each song a thread of the love we’d share.

He wasn’t just music—he was the sound,
The hum of the earth, the pulse underground.
A genre, a chord, a tune soft and true,
Would echo his soul, would carry his hue.

But now he is gone, and silence remains,
A hollow refrain, a ghost in the strains.
Yet when music plays, I’m drawn to the year,
I search for a sign he might have been near.

Did he hum this tune? Did he hear this beat?
Did it brush his soul? Was it his retreat?
The thought is a comfort, though bittersweet,
A harmony bridging where life and death meet.

For love like this does not fade away,
It lingers in songs, in chords that replay.
So I listen, I wonder, I dream him alive,
Through melodies where his spirit survives

Good night dear stranger
I hope you manage to close your eyes
And your mind won't start it's terrifying show and tell

Good night dear stranger
I hope you can take a breathe
And breathe in the air from a place you feel safe
And breathe out all of the memories from times you weren't

Good night dear stranger
I hope the darkness doesn't resemble your mind
And that your thoughts about yourself are kind

Good night dear stranger
I hope you dream sweet dreams
And that you wake up
Still feeling that peace
And not like you're in a living nightmare

another january rain above us,
same month, same city, same conflict,
a different ‘you’ in my poems.

i wonder what you really felt
when you slung my arm over yours,
when you relentlessly chased my hand,
those hard, seasoned fingers on mine.

i try to fight you off, but i wind up
linking our arms in a chain,
rubbing your back until i’m sore,
hearing you ramble in that car ride,
as you asked about my bruises and
searched for my hand before i cut you off,
knowing we cannot be more than this,
at least not now.

that night
when the sky sobbed watching us,
i wished you were drunk every day
and regretted that i was completely sober.