******* can you just








stop doing





everything wrong?

what have i done?


my heart
has been filled to the top with liquid—
a glimmering red,
so much so that
it just
burst open.


what have i done?


my heart
is a porcelain doll.
so beautiful, that you want to touch it, but
once you do, it shatters into a million pieces,
because you drop it.


what have i done?


my heart
is a thief with a knife.
it holds it to your chin,
as you struggle and squirm underneath the blade.


look what i have done.








look what i have done.

It's hard to fight when the fight ain't fair,
struggling as you climb the mountain
in an internal uphill battle for something
you never knew what to make of,
lost in the throes of other people's demands
while facing personal demons alone,
people's voices all mingling together
and brushing past your head,
leaving you dazed and isolated
as you can't seem to figure out how to
join in the conversation
and be a part of the flurry of life
happening all around you
because inside you, it never feels like
much is happening,
it's like your capability of perceiving
anything good has been switched off,
like someone violently flicked at it
and beat it in with a hammer
and stomped on it before tossing it into
the back of the memory room, where nothing
is ever remembered or taken back out again
and now when looking through
the lenses of your eyes,
everything is drab and gray, like a discoloring
filter has been applied to make sure you see
things for what they really are,
so that then there's never a chance to
mistake anything for being anything else
that you might have wanted it to be,
so you can remember to always remind yourself
that nothing, and no one, is there for you
and will ever be there for you,
because they are all caught up in the present,
a time when you are utterly insignificant
because one day someone decided to
reach back into the back of your head
and lower your voice and expressions several notches
below silence,
because it was better that way for everyone else's
convenience
they wouldn't have to worry anymore
about hearing your cries of help or anxiousness
of being lost in the throes of other people's decisions
for you
they wouldn't have to hear you
express any doubt or show your real longing
during a time when you were still able to
dream or recall a hazy yet bright idea
of what you wanted to do or study
of the life you might have wanted to make for yourself,
they wouldn't have to take care of you
when you broke down from trying to
dodge expertly concealed insults and recited misfortunes
being hurled at you from all directions
the only kind of pity present in your life
is self-pity and remorse,
self-pity because no one's pity would ever
be enough to accommodate
and remorse because you were never
good enough in the first place
and you know it all too well
and it hurts, that you can't even make things
better for yourself while fighting a fight
that ain't fair
because you don't know how to.

Slotting into geological time

"As a man thinks, so is he", ferillergood ye may
as well add as subtract.

Am i right or am I wrong?
Dexter, yeh, that'n
or Sinister.
Being left or right,

That's jest sided-ness, a sort,
a me-trick-able stackable thing,
with an in
side and an out
side and a top outside and a bottom outside
and a front inside and a front backside
and a back frontside with its own inside.
Like you.

Value pends 'pon sorts of things
into similarities of singularities,
if I got that message un occluded or
unveiled of sacred meanings.

There seemed to be no code
"if a man (voice) says a thing that is true, but
I did not say it: does that make it untrue?"

I answered, "Lord, you are truth."

Wow. Look what I said. truth you are lord.

Punctuated equilibrium humm white noise of wonder
can it be?
'Think so.

You were the bullet that punctured a hole

You were the pill I swallowed to die

You were the poison that played a key role

You were the glass I stuck in my eye

You were the noose that hung around my neck

You were the knife I ****** through my arm

You were the force that pushed me off the deck

You were the only thing that caused me this harm

A life without changes, would be painless,
Carefree one would obtain eternal happiness but also boredom,
The bittersweetness of the changes in our lives, heartfelt emotions,
Pain, regret, sadness are what push us forward, make us who we are,
The change for the better or worse is for us to decide and take,
A world without change, would simply be stuck in the past while the future seems to be out of reach, too far away to ever grasp it,
A heart who doesn't change, is ignorant and cannot see truly anything without shaking in fear of the unknown, a fear to evolve,
So from now on I will not dwell in the past crying for the phantoms long gone, who have taken their chance and vanished into a better future with memories they made which can be held dear, close.
Let go of what chains you into the misery you felt when you lost it.
All suffering comes from being too attached to one thing.
So my old friend, the name you gave me, the warmth you gave me,
The smile you showed me, the emotions you invoke in me,
I will remember them well and hold them dear,
But you will not return, so I must let you go,
And the name you gave me

~ U̶m̶i̶
Murasame

line up,
you’re a model.

stand by the others,
they’re all models.

get up,
you’re a model.

the judges select the prettiest,
the smartest,
the fastest,
the best ones of all.

they choose everyone
other than you.

all the pretty models walk one way,
while you walk another.

they have wonderful temperament,
while you break down for no reason.

they have wonderful bodies,
while you just aren’t good enough.

they act with grace and humility,
while you slam your fists into the wall and scream your lungs out.

they smile and dream,
while you have nightmares and
your face twists into a horrible frown.

guess you just



weren’t enough.