N▇▇▇▇,
since we last talked, i wanted to tell you what you missed.

• truthfully, i wish you had been there when i was ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇.

• i thought you would have wanted to know that ▇▇▇ to ▇▇▇▇▇ again.

• also i found out that ▇▇▇▇ is
▇▇▇▇▇ than i ever realized.

• do you still ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ?
do you think ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ?

• i wonder, did you ever ▇▇▇▇▇ what ▇▇▇▇ ? did ▇▇▇▇▇ it? you must have, otherwise, you ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ stayed.

• anyways, you also missed just how ▇▇▇
and ▇▇▇ i have ▇▇▇▇ the ▇▇.



and most of all, ▇▇▇ you ▇▇▇ don't truly ▇▇▇▇ deserve ▇▇ to ▇▇▇ know, ▇▇▇
not anymore. ▇▇▇

                                                     --M▇▇▇▇

the mirrorless child sits alone
wondering which truth is their own
for they were not taught of twists and plots
or shown visions of their own worth
comfort zones aren't made of heroes
who you become is not your reflection
which holds the truth
but the devil has his own house of mirrors
and I wouldn't dare to enter

She walks up to me curiously,
Head-tilted; her innocent eyes stare into me.
Constellations on her face - I count one, two, three blinks followed by a grin.
A child sees herself for the first time.

Now she’s taller, her face a little broader
she looks into me;
a smile replaced by a frown, she pulls back
inspecting every line that marks her skin

then returns with paint which she brushes over her skin.
It marks her eyes, her lips; her cheeks
full of pink as she admires her work.

The paint never washes off, you see, it stains.
She returns to me regularly, rivers of ink running down her face,
her eyes clouded; the illusion of beauty hangs in the air.

Society’s product stands before me, reflections of her.

-thelostpoetjournals

so you’ve found yourself lost again

the years are behind you
a sense of place or the thrill
fifth empire the reach
everlasting slowly fading
hooray for the glitter and the glamour

and what has been carved out
of flesh and concrete
to stake a claim in name or vision
the search for meaning
and now you’re caught

distraction
it’s the rows and rows and rows and rows
you stand with pride
without belonging
or has it always been there waiting

go ahead
it's your turn

Youth—epitome of experience and extremes.
You fall, you seek, you cry, you scream.
You slow down, begin to see the seams—
A vast world quietly opens to you.
You notice the meaning behind the semblance,
And the silence that slowly leaks through.

You finally get the answers you long pursued:
For frustration’s weight, for storms you never understood—
The unexplainable quarrels, the anxious moods.
And at last, you reach the solace you once dreamed.

But—
It’s not the end. It’s not the cure.
This is nowhere close to all your angst, your ache.
“To live is to suffer”—a belief we often mistake.
To live is, was, and always will be to seek—
To validate the silence buried deep beneath.

To let go of the nagging thoughts,
The voice that creeps, claws, and speaks.
Only the brave can release that grip.
It was never meant to be easy—
That’s why it clings,
But trust the process.
You’ll hear the silence—full and complete.

Once you’ve let go of that voice,
That essence of shadow,
No more doubt, no more need to borrow—
You’ll find the peace you sought
Beneath the drought of noise
That once left you hollow.

Yes, I know your agony, your sorrows.
But brave warrior, you’ve found it at last—
The real you,
Untainted.
Unburdened.
Unbound.
                                                          -Asher Graves

Over horizon, in the dark,
transient allure of shooting stars.
Still yet vibrant moments
of joint within and far.
A vastness seized with eyes.
A million years of travel stories,
narrated each, entwined,
it’s not the ears they reach, but mind,
recalled and forgotten as told.
I always feel I know them all,
not memorizing a single one.

A portal gate, wide opened
to connect past with present moments,
events long gone, foretelling return,
tethered together
with a radiant thread of light.
By courtesy of night sky
offered repast of boundless calmness.
I fear to call how troubled a soul
must have become,
to miss this invite for peace of mind
addressed to everyone.
It’s mesmerizing every time.

I got ways to go, believe me,
The coldest ever—anaemic.
Stripping down the vices,
And by that, I mean me, myself, and I, *****.
The lord, call me your highness,
But don’t confuse me for the kindest.
Taking a stand isn’t the vilest—
Approach just like the golden touch, the Midas.

Reprimanding the bezoar,
Leavin’ all the poison behind us.
Close your eyes if you don’t want 'em to find us!
The God? I’m not Osiris.
I lack the means to guide us.
The path of the finest—
A fantasy, only to remind us
Of all the fallacies I sold to the crownless.
But what of the fellow deceased?
I mean the fellow seized!
The dreams of the unguarded,
The sin that we started,
To get us rewarded.
I killed the Open-Hearted,
Now dearly departed.

You reap what you sow—
Left me deep in the snow.
I peeked through the hole,
But there’s only me, the sole.
I staged a show,
To feel a little more,
But I never opened the door.

Now I see you no more.
You were sweet, a little slow—
Deserved love so much more.
But I lacked the gall,
And you took the fall.
I was built to protect you,
But you never left that little door.
Smiled a little more,
Should’ve hugged you some more.
Now echoes of silence haunt the floor.
You’re gone, and I see you no more.

I am to blame for this nuisance,
I am to blame for this rapture—
If only I didn’t fail to capture.

If I tripped, you too tripped—
Brother, we were trippin’.
I took a hit, felt sick, should’ve listened.
Where’s my foresight? My vision?
Where’s my f**kin’ intuition?
To hell with my indecision—
Blinded by pride, deaf to collisions.
Never cared so much for religion.
But you were the dawn of this coalition.

Fruitful conviction,
So much to offer, a pondering decision.

Rage consumed me; I created diversion.
Hateful I got for not understanding your assertion.
You had the gusto, a remarkable vision—
But I doubted and embarked on evasion.
Cursed at my frustration,
But no one was there to listen.
I carried the mission,
Prying open wounds to find division.

But I didn’t see my mistake.
Argued and raged, thinking I’d escape.
I broke, woke—but still bore the same face.
Tried to retaliate,
But it was too late to recalibrate.
I over-narrate, couldn’t hesitate.
Thought anger was relief, never did validate.
So much arrogance I failed to navigate.

Kinda felt like Medusa—
A head (ahead) of snakes, my own accuser.
                                                                        -Asher Graves

Oh, my days have gone back,
To the time I wore a sack.
Dusty, saggy—it was disgusting;
The threads holding it weren't so trusting.

The period long gone,
The chirpings I forgot—
All return, all anew,
Yet old, yet to be taught.

The sack still fits, though I've grown
In flesh and thought, yet not alone.
Its seams recall what I forget,
A stitched regret I haven’t met.

I tread the path I swore to shun,
A shadow walks where once I’d run.
It whispers truths I left behind—
Not cruel, just quietly unkind.

Do I resist? Or let it pass—
This mirror made of fractured glass?
For every step I try to flee,
The past keeps stitching into me.

I'm not rejecting you I just don't want to be made small anymore.
There's things you kept hidden from yourself and I'm seeing it for what it is.
I'm not against you but I know I can't do the work you need to do for yourself.
It's never been about not accepting you it's that I had to shrink myself to fit what u wanted and I can't do that anymore

You already have your gifts and strengths.
If you feel good it's an illusion because I've told u I've been neglected and I can't do it anymore.
It's not enough

When eve's dark hand descendeth, dropping,
Where fancies creep and whisperings invite to linger here,
She sits upon waters gray as stone,
Veiled in thought, the world stunned and far from here.

The pond gives back lights from ****** and vain,
A whirl of gold, a promise of delight,
But underneath the green and brooding quiet
Lie unrevealed secrets, and unbetrayed fates disposed.

She sits calm, a word unspoken
In mind, peace to stay and be given.
City noises, music so far,
But here she'll reside, peace recovered.

The furrowed brow in contemplation,
Of bygone days, of union.
World so big now—
But all that it contains is here, within.