Look to the sky — each cloud is forged alone,
Yet from afar, they wear the same white throne.
  They drift like thoughts, alike yet set apart,
  A testament to nature’s restless art.

Likes and unlikes — such is the nature’s lore,
Be the seed that breaks its shell and grows once more.
  Stand firm and nurture all you hold inside,
  Your voice, your shadow, your unpolished pride.

Never let fear hush the thunder in your chest —
Speak storms of truth, though silence might seem best.
  Tongues will wag like branches in the wind,
  But roots run deeper when they don’t pretend.

Most trade their colors for another’s hue,
They wear borrowed skins to seem brand new.
  Yet stand apart — like a lone tree crowned in flame,
  Unafraid to bear your honest name.

You need not twist your soul to be untrue —
Be your own sky, be your sun and morning dew.
  For it’s enough — this flawed and fearless star —
  To live unmasked, to be just who you are.

I know this might not apply to everyone because we all view life through different lenses. But from where I stand,  I believe that It will never fully work between two individuals—who don't share the same perspective and perception in life. I understand that the concept of successful relationships is for  people to meet half way. And it will only work if both sides choose to understand each other even though, each and everyone of us came from different backgrounds, live in different worlds, and somehow found a little bit of common ground. Yet, it will only happen if two of them are patient enough to understand, to listen even when it's uncomfortable, even when it's hard.

But here's the truth: for me, I find it difficult to understand someone, who is far different from a life so unlikely of mine, the rules, principles, beliefs, their way of thinking, it's hard to adjust, to adapt to the world where I don't really fit in. It doesn't make sense to me. I find myself questioning everything. I wonder what's really right? What is wrong? Was it all a habit ? A cycle that has been passed down from generation to generation? I'm pondering,  why is it so hard? Why love, feels like a contract, a negotiation— erasing parts of your identity, to fit in someone's world where I don't really belong.

I DON'T THINK I CAN DO IT, AND THAT'S OKAY.

We all know that the environment where we grew up, is really a sensitive topic and often misunderstood. It breaks us, it hinders us, it builds us, and when two people meet who come from a different world, it's difficult, it's hard, it's like a job— there are many sacrifices also lapses, it's tiring, exhausting. I'm somehow afraid that one day, I will lose my freedom, my principles and values which I uphold, the things I stand for. I don't want to lose myself.

Am I liberated for thinking this way? Being liberated means being free to do everything you wanted, without any restrictions. Not in a modern or wild way, perhaps the fact that I also think of myself, of my own peace, the freedom that I had. For acknowledging differences instead of  forcing people to conform to the pattern of each world. I'm honest about my limitations, of what I think. I am a vocal person. I don't accept everything for the sake of fitting in, especially when it goes against the principles and values I uphold in life. In choosing not to lose myself just to make something impossible to work. Maybe liberation for me is walking away from things that no longer give peace, no longer feels right, even when it's almost everything I wanted.

N O I R.

We drift within vanished memories, our obscured
individuality.
Each experience —
a hollow fragment of oneself we can't hold.
Our hands though clasped,
can never tangle into one.
No storm could shatter the walls each long hold.

Our souls orbit in polyphony,
never quite colliding.
Intimacy pirouettes at the extremity of an abyss–
silently.
A fissure runs between two hearts
beating synchronously,
yet searching solitude.
Our hearts–
a silent sea where longing wanders away.

I trace the marks on your face,
quietly, deeply.
Hoping a map could lead to the depths,
of your soul.
But I am trapped in shadows of uncertainty,
where words flounder
and secrets lie.
We lean towards one another,
yet inwardness no matter how close–
guarantees a distance.

Perhaps we aren't lovers but actors playing.
Here I am lying –
in the void of emptiness,
refusing to accept that distance kills intimacy.
In my mind,
remains fragments of our memories.
Maybe we never truly found love–
only lost in each other's embrace.

@noirwhisky

Oh right. I forgot.
There's actually ******* out there
Who are serious
About their homophobia.
About hate of
Consenual relations
Between any grown individuals
Which doesn't conform
To their perspective of love.
Righteous love.
Fanatic heterosexuals.
Ay, I can't knock women.
Obviously,
There's so much more
To loving a partner.
So much more
To a loving partner.
The life you build together,
What you do with it.
But let's hone in
On dictating individuality
And harming individual rights.

Oh right. I forgot.
There's this thing
Called the constitution.
Oh right. I forgot.
There's these things
Called amendments.

Silly me,
I guess I was on
A personal "freak."
Silly me,
I guess I waged
A personal "streak."

Oh right. I forgot.
There's this thing
Called proper interpretation.
Oh right. I forgot.
There's these things
Called existing judgements.

Ah, ****!
I guess I'm against
State & church seperation.
Ah, shucks!
I guess I'm for
Totalitarian fascism.

I wear
Mismatched socks—
yellow and blue.
Tie my hair off-center,

A quiet defiance
Against the perfection
Society demands

They call it chaos.
I call it freedom.
To me,
Imperfections are beautiful.

From days of flight
To nights of tears
To hazy smoke all year round
The light I once was is now blurring

“Too bright!” They said
“Too much!” They cried
And so I faltered
Flickering
Dimming
Dying
Till the voices stopped

They pointed to my hair
My tongue
My legs
My heart
My hands
My soul
My eyes

Everything that didn’t belong
Everything they wanted gone

What was I to do?
And so I let them hold the knife
Against my chest
Sliding between my ribs
Hurting
Hurting
Hurting
As they cut away the best parts of me

John's illness is called

John, Ella's is called Ella --


mine, well, you know me.

Consciousness is precious
Like love and life and time
What right do others have
Over how I choose to alter mine?

Not hurting anyone
Just pleasantly minding my own business
Yet if I fail a ***** test
For **** I smoked three weeks ago...
I'd be sacked within in an instant?

Losing a loved one to alcoholism
Is the worst thing I've endured
Yet if I test positive for a banned substance
It's rehab until I'm cured?

Employers and society
Their ignorance is ironical
If they ever discover the real me
It will be nothing short of comical

I've earned a doctorate in ***** tests
Their ignorance makes me seeth
Hallucinogens are undetectable...

Written whilst watching the walls breathe

I’m weird,  
for dreaming in broad daylight,
for speaking in riddles,
and letting my silence speak louder than words.  

I’m weird,
because my thoughts spill out in silence,
hovering on my lips like secrets,
and when I speak,
the world looks away,
as if the truth in my voice
is something they’re not ready to hear.

I’m weird,
for finding beauty in broken things—
the fragments others throw away,
and in the bruises I hide beneath my skin.
They whisper stories,
reminding me of the pieces I hold together in myself,
stories (that) only I seem to understand.

I’m weird,  
because I laugh when I want to cry,  
and cry when no one else does—  
my tears fall for the stars,  
and my heart breaks for the moon.  
I feel too much,  
love too fiercely,  
as if my soul was made  
for a world too fragile to last.

I’m weird,
for I don’t fit in the spaces they give me,  
so I carve my own,  
even if it means standing  
on the edge, alone.

But if weird is what I am,  
then let it be,  
for I’d rather be this beautiful ache,  
this painful bloom of something true,  
than fold myself small enough  
to fit into a world  
that never made room  
and never will.

I’m weird,  
and maybe that’s the best thing I’ll ever be—  
not perfect, not easy to understand,  
but real, raw,  
and unashamed  
of every odd, jagged piece  
that makes me whole.