I am a silhouette that’s almost human —
a wishful thought, a half-formed tune.
A path that doesn't circle back,
no map, no rewind, no past to track.
I’m a gunfighter — my words are the bullets,
time the outlaw I’ve hunted in dullness and pullets.
As I’ve killed it slow in many hours lost,
paid my thrills in tears, but never knew their full cost.

I’ve held a love like a flood — wild, rushing, raw,
then dried out in its drought, begging heaven for more.
I chase new highs like I’m being chased —
while fear cracks at my heels, but I still keep pace.
I smile like bravery wrapped in so much doubt,
as each piece of laughter is a whisper trying to shout.
And see that my eyes have carried their tearful ache,
and never the cherry on top of cheerful cake.

But still —
I’ve done the hard things though trembling inside,
lived among broken people; the ones who’ve also cried.
And I may not be whole so often, but I’ve learned to feel,
in every fractured moment — to be something real.

Black tar runs inside my veins,
seeming to consume the red blood in me.
I scream in agony as it continues to eat me alive.
Looking in the mirror, I see my face—
but I can’t feel my hands.

Obsessing, again and again, just to attain normality.
Tearing skin from flesh and bones,
desperately seeking me in all this insanity.
I hear my voice—but it’s clouded
by a much louder one.

My body is no longer mine.
My mind, a pool of tangled vines,
slithering, weaving into the nooks and crannies
of my being—
waiting to devour my whole existence.

Desperately searching for the right words,
I tear and tear myself,
skin down to the muscles clinging to bones.
****** nails. Crucified dreams.
A perception of perfection—unattainable.

A siren’s call in the distance,
luring me into the murky waters of the unknown.
The danger of unlocking the doors
that holds back my desires and ambition—
yet I brace the door
with the strength of a bull, the pride of a lion.

Clawing at the core of my being,
all my blood, skin, flesh, and bones—
gone with the wind.
Only consciousness remains.
Yet I still can’t understand this unknown world.
I couldn’t even save my mind.
These thoughts have now consumed
my whole being.


- N.V. 🥀

There’s a voice in my head
haunting me—
pulling at the seams of my reservation.

In this forest, it calls—
soft and distant,
waiting for me to walk deeper into the hush.
In this white dress, the grass blades cut my ankles,
vines wrap around the autumn trees,
luring me farther in.

It calls whenever it wants,
wherever it wants—
patiently waiting to hold me in its grasp.

I stand beneath a towering tree,
feet bleeding into the earth,
the sky swallowed in rust and gold.

Looking far and wide,
only the vastness of forest meets my eyes.
Even as I run,
there’s only a sea of fallen leaves.

I feel the wind against my skin.
The back of my neck tingles
from a touch I cannot see.
It doesn’t hold me physically—
but I feel its grasp,
spirit-deep.

Whatever it is,
it wants to be found by me.

So I keep running—
not to escape,
but to chase the feeling of fleeing.
Letting the wind lift my hair from my face
as the sun’s light begins to fade.

Still, the forest keeps calling.
Whatever I have left—
let it be swept away by the autumn wind.


- N.V. 🥀