Sit with it, a moth ball grown with salty remarks, take a deep breath to compose yourself and nuture their sore ideas of you ,hoard open wounds to leverage over morality

Soaring these words,you engraved on my skin , soon to sail these waves of malignance that boil in me, consequence is nothing but the bittersweet aftertaste of dark chocolate for the excruciating torture i'll inflict onto you will bring an end to my cold sweats

these aren't inchoate feelings but spawns of postponed smiles. Now, how do i drive them into suicide

On that fall, I felt my heart become an unseen ravine,
Ever-closing grooves , a new crack with every step.
Descending like a feather into this bottomless silence.

I could already see the stars fading ,
Stars that once lit the sky like the peerless sun,
Stars that left no room for darkness to creep,
Stars that watched over me.
Now I must play hide and seek.

City lights bearing down ,it wasn’t my life that flashed before my eyes,
But the despair that followed,
As I began to lose my way home , the only night I ever trusted.

i try to see
the bright side
every day,

but deep down,
i’m scared—

my nerves
frayed,
worn thin
like overused threads.

i spent years
simply surviving,

keeping my head low,
waiting
for the right timing

to make it out
unscathed.

but cuts
and scrapes
still touch the surface,

and the light
inside my heart
flickers—
on repeat.

i know
what it’s like
to feel something,

but life
isn’t fair,

and the pain
i bear
makes me question:

will i remain
broken forever?

or will i
break free
from this cycle—

free from
the fear—

and like a phoenix,
take flight,
rise from the ashes,

and finally
fix my broken heart?

Bite into an idea— rows of teeth, tension tight.
Crowded smiles feel so exposing— but this one,
it gnaws deeper. The tension between teething
regrets and tethered faith feels so frayed, as if
the cord was always a little too short to begin
with.

I’m not riding the wave— just swimming a little
longer in my dreams; watching surfers sail off
while I sink into thought. But I surf the internet,
researching the cultivation of infinitude—
whatever that means. Diving into unfathomable
depths, only a few steps in and I’m already losing
my breath.

Have I sprouted yet? Most days, my sadness
drowns in my anger. Then a spark of joy appears—
brief, fleeting— but its glow only makes me
so sad again. And that sadness simmers back into
rage, and the loop begins once more.

A cycle.
A seesaw.

A silent crusade to love myself again.
But the journey never really ends. Even while
searching for one. we push forward—again,
and again— until we find a better end.

In a brief squeeze, my chest wheezed—
there goes my heart, falling out of itself,
into another rhyme, into another line.
Queue me up for feeling less than myself,
lost in being so lost.

Letting go of old grievances just to make
room for new ones today.
“I’m not okay”—
but I won’t say it, because you MAYBE
won’t think of me the same.

Sometimes I’m determined, other times,
indulgent. I look like I’ve got it together,
but beneath the surface,
I’m exhausted—
completely out of order.
Struggling. Sweating.
But short on words to explain what’s wrong.

I’d be seen as too much for speaking my
pain aloud— but pain is always louder
when it’s silent.

So I speak now for those who are just like
I am.
We are We:
navigating identity crises in these
stretched-out teen years of our twenties.
We are plenty— and still enough to
surround each other in love that counts,
instead of letting life count us down
or count us out. We will rise. Together.

The sky is falling—
ashes in slow motion,
  raining smoke laced with doubt.
I’m trying to figure things out – trapped inside
   of my mind, trying to map a way out.
Time wears you down like a borrowed face.
Money races laps around your mind—
  and we’re all so deeply
    invested in the chase.

I think locomotive thoughts—
   every train of thought heavier than the last—
but somehow, I keep losing track of time.
But what is time,
  if not something that’s never mine?
We spend every second like a dime—
  but not every moment
    is worth the time.

I dress up for someone else’s moment,
tailor my soul to suit their life—
wearing joy like it’s rented, hoping the fit feels right.
Every mistake I remember from yesterday
  becomes a brushstroke in the picture I paint today—
a portrait of someone better
  hanging up in my frame of mind.

And maybe, just maybe,
there lies the real way
to fit in.

like a car crash,
explosions fill
my head

emotional wreckage—
thoughts tangled
in dread

am i the problem?
or are they
projecting
instead?

i let go
of the wheel

just to
feel something—

go off the rails,
’cause sanity
feels surreal.

am i the problem?
or just
trapped in
my head?

because dealing
with this

is harder
than i ever
imagined.

waking up  
in a haze,  

state of delirium—  
where am i at?  

i look in the  
mirror and see  
a reflection  

of someone  
i used to know.  

i need a place  
to escape—  

all i wanted  
was to protect  
my peace  

and be safe.  

the waves  
come and go,  

emotional  
instability,  
barreling toward  
insecurity:  

here i go.  

all i wanted  
was only love—  
but that was  
taken away,  

and i’m left  
with all  
the blame.  

you say  
i broke you  
down—  

but all i  
ever wanted  

was to build  
us up—  

and the  
foundation  
was shaky  
ground.  

waking up  
in a haze,  

i fight  
to stay awake.  

please, god,  
let the rain  
wash away—  

and take away  
my pain.  

because i  
don’t want  
to go another day  

getting  
carried  
away.

I’ve got diamond eyes, but don’t see myself so clear,
All the excited boys make the most noise,
Yet depression only needs to whisper in an ear.

Words are prison bars; speaking highly of yourself
the danger of being handed a lengthy sentence–
Booked in the library of time; days sitting on a shelf.

… waiting to be read

Let me stay shelved a little longer— reading up,
leading up, dreaming of a story still becoming
Between the lines; silent – even good stories gather dust
These tales of triumph still tarnish and rust…

Don't judge by how loud or how fast it all looks—
even the best stories get forgotten in books…
misunderstood!