maybe it wasn't you,
who broke my heart,
but meme,
for believing you'd love me,
The very way I did you.

it feels so odd,
to no longer run to you,
telling you everything,
the way I used to.

it's bound to happen,
for us to meet again,
And I only have one wish,
that it won't be soon,
just because deep down,
I know once your eyes lock mine,
I'll fall all over again.

I built a nest,
Thinking timing is best.
I painted a version of you,
Thinking it was the best I could do.
I carved a version of you,
Thinking it would turn a new you.

Though I loved all of you,
I was hoping, I was coping,
I was sinking, I was scuttling.
I was drowning in my mess,
But I was surviving for your flesh.

I was empty, but I was watering.
I did everything for you —
But was I the best?
My life was falling apart,
But I was there at your best.
Yet I wasn't enough for your nest.

You wanted your best.
You wanted the newness.
You wanted it easier —
The kind that comes without test.

I thought love was enough to make you stay.
I thought I was the one you cared for.
I thought I was the one you ever wanted.
But I was the imbecile, you say —
The kind you see in cinema.

But I would say
I'm the kind you read in literature.
Sylvia Plath is my inspiration.
Cinema may fade,
But her words will never erase.
Cinema seems so real,
But what she and I felt is surreal.

By: Zaima

(A realization of otherness)
Frenzied shaking has taken my soul
I am crushed by the burning of gold-brined teeth
My unclean lips draw back in a grimace
As I rest my head against the beam of
Some ragged torture device and get
Splinters driven into my constricting scalp
Take a spike and drive it through my temple
Into this piece of time-worn timber which
Is saturated with skin flakes from my victims

(The reception of the sacrament)
Shall I not raise my filth-clotted hands up to
This presence which is like smoke and fills
My lungs with the kind of fear true power brings?
Let there be flesh to envelop my quaking body
Let it be caught between my teeth and drape
My skin in a new raiment of priesthood
Let there be hematic torrents rushing down
To clean out the wounds and make them imperishable
To be better drink from well-dug cisterns

I pray to God before I go to sleep
My soul feels a certain way
That I can’t speak
I wanna scream but no one’s gonna hear me
I’m downin now but I spit that heat

Fallen brothers, to them I say “RIP”
Tricked from outer forces that we can’t see
I’m different from the others
But I’m still a sheep
My heads starting to hurt
I went to deep.