I remember when the world was a honey *** —
sweet and endless,
when the biggest worry was a blustery day
and whether Piglet would blow away.
The sky was wide, and the ground was soft,
and the trees whispered secrets if you listened long enough.

Back then, I knew the Bare Necessities by heart:
A river’s hum, the sun’s warm kiss,
feet splashing through a world that never asked for more
than laughter and a little bit of wonder.
Baloo taught me how to sway with the breeze,
to let life be easy —
but no one told me the breeze could turn cold.

They don’t warn you when the Hundred Acre Wood starts to shrink,
when the trees lose their magic
and just become trees.
One day, you wake up and Christopher Robin isn’t coming back —
and you realize you have to be him now.
You have to pack up the toys
and leave the forest behind.

But I miss the forest.
I miss the rustle of leaves that sounded like adventure,
the way a cardboard box was a pirate ship,
or a rocket,
or a house where everything made sense.
Now my ships sink in student loans,
and my rockets crash into expectations.

They said growing up was an adventure —
but no one said it was like Shere Khan waiting in the dark,
all teeth and waiting for you to fail.
No one told me the man-village had rules:
Wear this. Be that. Don’t dream too loud.

But sometimes, when the night is quiet,
I hear Baloo singing in the back of my head.
Sometimes, when the wind shakes the trees,
I swear I see Tigger bouncing through the branches.
And I hold on to those echoes,
those soft, honeyed memories,
because the world gets heavy,
but childhood taught me how to fly.

So maybe I’ll keep a little bit of the forest with me.
Maybe I’ll hum the Bare Necessities when the bills pile up.
Maybe I’ll remember that a blustery day
is just an excuse to hold on tighter to the ones you love.

And maybe, when the world says grow up,
I’ll whisper back —
“Oh, bother.”

Blue stares at me in a crowd,
Seeing a blue that I knew lightyears ago.
Well I'd be ****** here you are again,
Offering me entry into a home I once knew.

Now you are smiling next to the window
Of the house we shared.
New curtains droop down next to a figure
The figure of evil.

Leaving you behind, a wave washes over me
Of sentimental longing or wisful affection.
Craving to have had won you,
To have saved you from the evil you are still so drawn to.

It's just that the moon is full,
And I hear a voice on the telephone that I knew lightyears ago.
Flicking the switch I cut out a part of myself.

The hurt of it ripping me in two,
The moon phases and I swim up, meters of blue still above me.
Stroke after stroke I rush to breathe.
Year after year I still pine after it.

Now I look out of the window with curtains that droop,
That droop down next to me
Throwing a dim light on a double bed

I fell in love with a boy at 16,
and here is a list of things he taught me:

1.) People who love you will remember the little things.
2.) The people who look the happiest are probably not even a little happy.
3.) No matter how much you love someone, you can’t make them choose you.
4.) People will repeat the same traumas done to them without even realizing it.
5.) If you just lie there and silently cry, it’s over faster.

P.S. I really hope you’re in therapy,
especially now that I see you have a little girl you call your own.

Unlucky horseshoes,
strewn around the fields,
where I used to play.
Captured ankles after curfews,
absconded sword and shield,
laugh at me from yesterday.
I used to cry with curlews,
now my mouth is sealed,
like the word unsay.
Broad and mighty purviews,
are now wisps that yield,
to ground on which they lay.

You'll never understand,
the pain with which you struck me.
The young outstretching hand,
has wizened into an old and grizzled duppy.
The noose I wear by your demand,
has the same shape and plans,
as those; hateful, possessive, and, ******;
horseshoes unlucky.

@poormansdreams

can see it now in a stuffy auditorium
half of those students don’t give a ****
it’s hotter than a crematorium
and everyone just wants to go out to lunch

i can see her now - the principal’s crying
she can hardly get the words out
nervous laughter and everyone’s trying
whatever it is, to figure it out

i can see me too, when she breaks the news
“i regret to inform you” but i already knew
grim curiosity, we’re all wondering who
and the world liquifies when she says it’s you

silence, something switches, day to night
last night you were found dead, abandoned
and i’m saying no god, it can’t be right
cause he would have called me beforehand

it shines like the city
and it breaks like the bridge
and we should be drunk
but this is a school trip
they’d find exhaust in my lungs
if they did my autopsy
i’m soaking up in puddles
wanna breathe gasoline

the heat is too sweaty
and the people don’t smile
and it’s not LA
But let’s stay for a while
and you hate LA
it’s all concrete and palm trees
so let’s go get burgers
let’s go get ice cream

glitter like winners
and it’s sticky out here
and somewhere it’s winter
but somewheres never here
this station’ all yellow
am i in a movie?
this is living, worth filming
i’m finally breathing

scream off the balcony
up 46 floors
suburbs in the sky
wanna break down the door
live like real people
leave our shoes on the floor
watching the sunrise
and still wanting more

in the afternoon we chew our pills,
sweating the backs of knees, armpits,
blessed the skittering of grass on down-brushed
shins.
pulsing behind our eyes, weeping the veins,
shuddering the voltaic nerves. god,
the excedrin.

The night is bitter
The stars had lost their glitter
It's getting colder
And suddenly you're older
Then you get this feeling
That you might be bleeding
But apparently you're not
You're skin had begun to rot
A new skin emerged
Yet  you're not prepared
Which one is best ?the new or the other
Is there another?
The sky is Gray
The sun had lost its rays
You want to walk
Cause there's not much to talk
It's getting calmer
There's not much of drama
The kids are sleeping
They must be dreaming
It might be a nightmare
With a witch surrounded by flare
The adults are older
They are getting colder
They want to be dreaming
Even if they weren't sleeping
Their heads are thicker
Their souls are bitter
They lost their glitter
Who's fault is this ?
Fate it must be it
But destiny is glory
Each one has its  own story
Everything is ending
Life and its blessing
God is merciful
We got be thankful
Thanking him for life ،for the days and Nights
Even when it's gloomy
It got such beauty
Even to the blind
Faith can be their eyes

it's highschool recess and my best friend and i watch the seventh-graders
from our perch as 'older boys' with minimum-wage jobs and harder homework. one is handing around a gleaming can of monster energy like the blood of christ himself and everyone wants some. they treat the factory-issue can with such tender care, flushed fingertips on cold metal.

"why are they so excited about a monster?" i ask.

("what does it taste like?" a wide-eyed friend's younger brother asks.)

"because it's novel. it's their first taste of freedom." my friend says, and
then suddenly i remember all the times we've done the same with our friends.  

first, in an airport because me and my shaking hands couldn't finish it ourselves. outside school, warm from the flesh of someone's school bag all day. under the table and the teacher's nose because i stayed up too late, comuning with other friends in the blue dark. no matter who buys it's always for all of us.  

("have a sip"-"i don't like this one"-"the juice one is my favourite")

like maybe the 58g of sugar and 600mL of caffeine is okay if it's split between us. like the sharing of spit is holy. i look out at the small crowd of seventh graders and realise they are just beginning to learn:

what is communion if not half backwash?
what is holier than ingesting your friends?
what is holier than killing your hearts together?