A core belief is a thing you can lean into with no second thought
You trust in it's way of leading you
Stretching those nerves
cracking knuckles to haunt your neighbor

Pearl bracelet hanging low, not even trying to hug your arm
Calming your fingers from picking at that hangnail
It’s an annoying habit with a millisecond of relief

Blisters from sharpening those pencils,
for a battle with your notebook.
Letters you don't know, when they'll attack, in what shape or form
A blister you'll have to work around, the angst gives you space for more hangnails picking

The space between your fingernail and your next endeavor is a leap of struggle
or a buffet of choices which in all realness is just a lot of overthinking as a slow road to insanity

My core belief is an quivering tree of question marks
I think it represents the mindset
to begin anything with a clean slate

Have no expectations, then you won’t be disappointed
And you get surprised if it's actually not bad
But as an overthinker with anxiety and autism I stand with the quivering tree of question marks
I begin with a silent question, who is even listening

Trying to catch phrases, pauses, looks, body language
And then the quivering tree switches the question marks to nests of information

Mental notes of things I think is important, learning later that I missed the main point
Maybe the jokes lands a bit late
It’s okay, I get there in the end

A tree is a main point for endless branches and leaves
The real gold is the process you can’t see
The roots
The roots with its wings that never sleeps
Constantly expanding, learning and growing even when others only sees what the tree lets it see

A core belief of
a pessimist
a lingering friendship
a healing wound
a riptide

Her voice was
Chipped away like
An axe
To
A log

i wait for daybreak —
shed embers of disquiet;
my spirit rages.

In the end, if you’d just think to think before you
Speak
You wouldn’t’ve done a thing
Or hurt a person
Unfortunately, we don’t always get what we want
As shown by today
Not
Being a snow day, and so
You did it. You did the thing
And hurt a person. Multiple persons
I guess it’s just expected
You’ll be accepted
And forgiven
Again
&
Again

the bone-ache of wind and cold
runs up her legs as she walks through the plain
so she could rest in the earth and finally
sleep, knowing she found
something better than it was
before.

she searched the jungles once
but all she found were choking vines
still, the leaves whispered
𝘱𝘴𝘴𝘵, 𝘱𝘴𝘴𝘵, 𝘱𝘴𝘴𝘵
but the tip of their tongues faded
into static and she thought she found
a parchment’s glass bottle washed
up onto the shore but then the sea
leapt up and stole it again.

she sat on the beach for hours
like a long-lost lover, yearning and
waiting
but one day she vanished—
not to home, there was never
home, but to a place that replaced
her new loss with the ones she’d
met before, old friends with the other half
of the story.

now, she walks with the others’
manifest destinies but hers is a
glory that they’ll never know,
no gold or God or greatness but
an answer…
brushstrokes to give definition
though the edges always bleed,
so she reincarnates to do it all
again.

patiently, i wait -
my legs crossed,
and my heart too.
much time has passed
since the inevitable happened,
and yet, the light of a clement morn
never fails to justify the agony
of dying stars in the night sky;
or the ones too dead for even the
darkness that consumed them.
the heavens dispatch their
messenger birds to nook the
wisdom into the branches
of trees whose roots have shrewd
under the weight of logs that
outline their ascent.
such trees call upon the sages
to enlighten them,
and to warn them -
for they know too well how the
message might confound in the grips
of those who practise hedonism.
perhaps, the light has always been
too blinding for mortal eyes.

the flowers bloom all the same;
the winds usher the fragrant truth -
slowly, but surely;
and i lie in hope for the
rancid thoughts to inevitably
take on new meanings…

patiently.