Free inside the room allowed to lock
However such pleasures bring traps
Becoming isolated and forgetful
Not in the sense of the small things
Rather going shopping and forgetting the list
-
Had to make do with memory
Remembering the vegetables was easy
The miscellaneous items were fruitless
Just had to eyeball the aisles  
Keep my head down in case spotted by someone familiarly unpleasant  
-
A pretty girl from school worked at the shop
Wanted to see if she was still as beautiful
However that made me nervous
Why couldn’t everything be like the vegetables?
Made my way to checkout
-
Headed home with heavy bags
Trying to be careful as to not crush anything
Which reminded me with a pang
Forgot to buy the ****** eggs!
Mood soured as that was my breakfast
Too late to head back that would be embarrassing
What if the girl saw me and made for an entirely avoidable kerfuffle
-
Now awkwardly thinking what to have for breakfast
Arrived just outside my doorstep
The next door neighbour to the left was just leaving
How unfortunate and horrific
We asked each other how we were and conversely felt quite pleasant
Vented about my eggs fiasco which was met with love
My neighbour went inside and bought out a chicken

As I stand beneath,
sky's embrace,
open arms,
claim me as its own.

each drop,
cold,
yet warmth blossom in me.

each raindrop,
feels as a caress,
a lover's kiss,
as it drenchs my soul.

They don’t just describe emotions—
They dissect them.
Make you wonder
Why you feel,
And how much.

Some let their pens speak,
Others carry verses within—
Written on the walls of their minds,
Etched into the pulse of their hearts.

Poets are powerful.
They paint sorrow with beauty,
And make joy even more delightful.
They show us the world
Through an entirely different lens.

They can dress poverty in poetry,
And make wealth seem vainly stunning.
They stir our emotions,
Make us love deeply—
And hate just as fiercely.

We’re all born with a poet inside us.
Most just forget to listen.

this intensity: I rediscover
the edge of falling into oneself,
reinventing reality,
pain, blind feathers, sharp teeth, limits
this deficit  of whispering
thoughts can see their end,  their imaginary double
the roots of words translucent
their feedom released
they dismantle non words,
half-truths or nontruth
birds are free to be birds
or dreams of the air
hunger for connection is a hunger for creation
this feeling a vital movement, an undercurrent hallucinating forests
a delicate complexity of vulnerability and necessary innocence
the forgetting is colourless, as a matter of fact
there is no true forgetting, but nature itself invented
a God of mercy

I will come back to you
A little taller than before
You will never know what's true
How my legs and arms tore
I really hate the summer
The breeze makes me sad
I’ll try not to be a ******
But you know I can’t make you glad
I’ve always been scared
That summer brings death
(Sticky hot and flies buzz round
Upon the roadkill on the ground)
I’ll never know if you cared
Getting close so I can feel your breath
The summer is worse than spring
In that the birds won’t sing

Sometimes.
I do not wish to speak to you with words.
But rather, to see you with feeling,
Admire you through them.

For to use only words would be to limit myself.
To deceive you.
arriving to you fractured, blighted.

within every emotion that lies within me,
Lies every word  and idea I could only hope to shape for you,
Yet fail to capture.

Still, I will use them,
knowing their futility.
So you may see these emotions.
Through every ounce and aspect of my being.
And they, in turn, may touch every part of you.

And i will choose to not break free of this struggle.
The conflict of my words and emotions will only serve as a reminder of the effect you have bestowed upon me.
To live for.
And what you left for me to suffer for.