DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, already wrote about this before: but can it be?


hung dislike in the air unspoken

the favors in the same feather interest leaves a heart broken

admitting an adornment lazily better than that

suspicion captains the dreamy sails been in moons and sat

hold up not that I forgot to mention seems

the remember you soulmated when crying belongs and screams

April smothered a sarcastic note that I humor like I flow like I do

not of him a think of the thinking a dumb pursue

because darling my whole existence fed on that all along

how could a world stance stars and align in one core wrong???

not that I die this crazy fate hate

at least been found on a irony of an abandoned twenty-third


                                                  ­                                    -----ravenfeels

I survived a life-threatening,
Coma-inducing & memory-debilating
High-speed road accident in May ‘10.
I survived COVID12,
The SARS-COV12.
Now I even survived COVID19.
I, howsoever, know what I am.
I am a mortal. Perishable.

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, this number keeps haunting me---nice:]


spaced in faze spaced in shock

waiting for the hit of the clock upon us

jaded in here scattered in there

falling deeply into depths of despair

piles of threes and stashes in seven still unspoken fourteens

into the floors and walls of the magnificent heavens

count of one then a skip of a spree down

into curses of minutes in a bunch of twisted twenty threes


                                                                            ------ravenfeels