You stop me from dancing, from singing
From sharing my fantasy -  
With your flaccid machine gun *****
You bust my brain that’s used to bullets
Every waking moment, trying to unbalance my blast and break it…

Acting like the vulnerable child that changed except you didn’t… full of weakness and cowardice…

Do you want to talk about it?
Better not show your ugly realness,
Who knows what that could tell…

Keep on killing in eliteness
Clinking your champagne cufflink caress -
You can try to delete us
Yes, you’ve already tried to burn this…

But let’s face it - we’re fearless…
And you’ve not stopped us from dancing
We dance and sing to space-spanning anthems…
And the rain restores us
And we smell like special wild flowers in forests
And all you are is a distant splinter
That came out with ease, once you were directly demeaned

And nothing can stop us, because we are the future…
And you will freeze forever and ever in your ugly paint - its golden frame you can’t change…  
And the hell you thought you could re-spell -
You’ll feel it all too well…

In seeing it all shrink about
My soul speaks mountains from a needle
For all the pointless pale attempts to wash out human pupils...

My glow is sealed with humble healers,
Ones who won’t get lost or wheel this
Realness in any kind of form/mess
A million messages sung, secret.

I can’t tread sand that hides,
Pretend I understand the croaking lullaby
Believe that we work for fun and always die...

When work is wild and worthy with time
I can’t sign, or stay silent,
With stars around me pulling brightness
Awkward -

Stay gripped by the kiss
Of wide window spirits...
Woken, can’t make a liquid stiff -
Stay outcast where the open love is.

These Barbie influencers —
perfect plastic gods
with ***** sculpted by scalpels
and smiles so white
they could blind heaven.

Bodies built for the scroll.
Attitudes sharper than jawlines,
serving chaos and temptation
on filtered silver plates —
even Luzifer pauses and goes:
“Whoa… chill.”

But it’s all an act.
A scream wrapped in selfies.
They burn out like fireworks
faking light in already lit rooms.
Wearing so many fake-real-fake masks
they forgot the shape of their own face.

Nose fixed. Lips pumped.
Ears clipped.
Soul?
Untraceable.

And the crowd cheers.
“Freedom!”
While they’re chained
to trends and trauma
in silicone smiles.

Think, world.
Men, women, children with filters in their dreams —
if you stripped the mask,
the edits,
the contour,
the surgeon’s signature…

not even a troll
would want you
for soup.

I wear the badge of honor on my chest,
saying I've been through hell and back
and I'm still living,
some say
that when they've looked into my eyes
they see an undeniable strength
and deep intense pain
so what do I say to that ,
I say that is truth.
But maybe I wanna stop having to feel that
my victim stories
are all who I am
because they are not,
I am only now starting to find myself
at 26 it feels so late in a way
its so hard to relate to many people

I feel like the  small talk
makes escape feel easy
or hard whichever way you wanna see it
I feel like I wanna just run again
change my name
so I forget my family
so I forget the religion
that brought me up
to shame myself
my body
my sexuality
and to make me hate my gender
of being a women
when will we stop allowing others
to teach our children hatred
I wanna be a force of fire
in the world
a fire to eradicate the abuse
the hurting the pain
to be the voice of the voiceless
maybe my poetry
helps someone I don't know
maybe this is why I write
real pain exists in the world
but it doesn't end there ,
I am healing ,
but the road can be quite rocky at times
so I wear my battle scars
as a badge of honor
to know I've made it this far
so I can go on
for more
for longer
to hold out for hope
that things will get better and improve.

All I craved for
Is to see more
Of many opportunities
That opens much doors
But I was left with an option
Fake this -perfect this!
What might pays big?
Thou,
Fake burns fast like the enstrunch fire
And perfection rebuilds, reframe,  re-brand  the inner success fire.

Let me be who I really am with you
My eyes directly train upon what’s true
My realness experiences your realness
Avoiding deceit or pretense
Authenticity unimpeded
Open heart, sharing my opened mind
The real thing unadulterated
My words and feelings unalloyed
Let me be who I really am with you
An undisputed portrait of me
Meaning what is said honestly
Frankness displayed in every word
Candid truth is what you have heard
I’m the legtimate and upfront article
Let me be who I really am with you

Your voice is one in which I crave.
You make me feel.
You've made me cry, real tears. Not those crocodile ones that the children cry.
Real, wet, hot tears -- euphoric in a sense, the tears, they clear my mind.
They make me see what I couldn't before. A sense of -- enlightenment, perhaps?

...is a purple curtain

behind this curtain
is your flesh

behind your flesh
is your ego

behind your ego is the real you
we've been on a journey
like grandpa and grandmom
take me away
take me to the place of the real you