I've been still,
Caught in a sweet stasis,
Buried under the same, baseless
Candied gags, slippery hags, body bags ー
But I can't go back.
Haven't moved forward either,
So I still sit silent here.
Maybe I'll someday wither ー

Like dandelions as they scatter in the wind,
I will feel no more the weight of societal sins.
Staying awake in anticipation;
That feeling you get when you see a road blocked
and a wrecked car hoping it was an accident
Eventful; excitement to see that tar black
Crimson on tarmac
and those trampled, broken-pretty shells ー

I want to be a doll.
A pretty hollow pale porcelain
you still can't hurt when I slip through your hands,
Or when you let go and drop me,
Or smash me into the ground ー
It's all the same, isn't it?
You buy, bore, break, blame, build, rebuild
Rebreak, reblame, replace...

I remake real-fake love into stanza-sized stories
Just to rebrand them as poetry;
A molded part to inspire some abstract art.
They're better off that way,
Locked in and stationary;
Sweet standstill sanctuary.
And I'll stay to watch their models fail and break,
As they too, disintegrate ー fellow ******* degenerates

This time I was at your disposal,
But we're all just glorified disposables ー
Ever-hungry, hedonistic at heart.

I'd hear the word
And recoil from it
The thought of prayer
Left me disgusted
How hard it is
To face each day
While gripping nihilism
So intensely that
Your knuckles turn white

What's the point
Of goals and dreams
If everything
Means nothing
And when you die
It's just like it was
Before you were born
You don't exist and
You don't even know it

Why waste my time
Doing anything of value
When I can drown myself
In drugs and *****
And still expire
Just the same as you

Yet once in a while
That question would
Push it's way into
My consciousness
"How could all of this be meaningless?"

The seed was planted
And as it grew
It broke through
That existential dread
Leaving just enough room
For hope to crawl in

I started to think that
Maybe there's more
To all of this chaos
Than anything I could
Ever comprehend
And who am I
To be so sure there's not

Then slowly my
Perspective shifted
My mind was open
And I no longer
Viewed the world
As upside down

Though the universe
Will always remain
A mystery
And the truth is something
I will never catch
For today,
I find myself okay
With "maybe..."

a decimal of time
wedged between a tile
of a room - unknown
it could have been a kitchen or the delirious floor of a bustling shop
down to the tedium of banter and the slow trickle of something like
a cultural shift
inside a downtrodden window she stared too long until she was
unrecognizable by her and those around her
disappearing from picture frames and unable to remember
what it was like to say something of importance
her tongue now a foreign agent unsure if it still served a purpose
other than being in someone else's mouth
her shirt pocket always containing something of a thrill
like pearls or cigarettes
but now there was nothing in those pockets
tea bags were now placed in jars and her nails never veneer various colors but the same **** that had enthralled her years earlier
now blending in with the canvas outfits she wore to be reminded of a hobby that could have meant something
if only she believed in anything

Hi. Do you care enough to hear me whine?
I fear that you don’t see me
collecting dust in the dim corner of your room.
And while you stand and stare,
completely absorbed by your own despair,
I remain
ready to serve you  
and your meaningless life.
I can clean your room, yet I can’t clean your mind
of the false reality exemplified by your kind.


We are similar though, you and I.
Wasting our time amassing, acquiring, accumulating.
Honestly, we’re mere specks of life,
surrendering to realities constructed by our minds.
Don’t you know that your beloved earthly pleasures
are one and the same as the ******* that I collect?
Hard-earned, elusive, temporal, disposable.
Its laughable how ignorant you are;
consumed by your own subliminal thoughts,
leaving you searching for the remnants of what is and what is not.


Can’t you see the fallacies present in your head?
Gleaming yet blinding, salient yet obscure.
Armed with benevolent promises
that ultimately leave you for dead.
Can’t you see that what you crave
will inevitably **** you down to your grave?
Incessantly coated with wondrous, tempting illusions
that disguise its true nature--garbage.
Garbage. Connect the dots, you fool.
Can’t you see that you and I are one and the same?