piling up interests in my head
profit or debt to be paid?
too many passions held;
in my heart, more than is said

at least,
it made me malleable
somewhat adaptable
cooked in a crucible

for you I'd rotate my being
shaped like clay to your liking
hundred words for you and only you
conversations askew to you

because I could,
genius, prodigy, golden
followed ideas to the end
give any answers you'd want

reached escape velocity
but I was a frozen revolution
caught in orbit,
still in this city

i always forget
that this globe 
spins,
even when i feel
like im stuck.
somewhere,
someone is falling in love
at the same time
that im falling apart.

...

i hold a snow globe --
the one from the family 
christmas, back in 2016.
i shake it --
watch it storm inside,
and i think,
maybe im still learning
how to settle
after everything
swirls.
after the mess.

...

the world is round,
but it never
feels like it comes back
to me.

I wake up.
But I don’t really wake up, do I?
The bed feels like it’s holding me down—
like I’m trapped inside my own skin.
I think about moving,
but my body’s too tired to listen.
My bones ache.
My mind aches.
And I’m still here.
Stuck.

I run my hands through my hair,
but nothing changes.
The noise in my head keeps getting louder,
like it’s trying to drown me.
Every thought is a weight,
every breath a struggle.
I’m suffocating in a room full of air.

The world keeps moving.
People keep laughing,
but it’s like I’m behind a glass,
just watching—
always watching,
never a part of it.
I can’t reach it.
I can’t reach them.
I can’t reach myself.

Some days, I fake it.
I paint a smile on my face,
tell everyone, “I’m fine.”
But it’s a lie.
A lie I tell so often,
I don’t know how to stop.
The emptiness inside me is too big,
too loud,
but I don’t know how to say it,
so I say nothing.
I hide it behind a smile,
and hope no one sees
how broken I really am.

Other days, I don’t even try.
I don’t have the strength to pretend anymore.
The world feels too far away,
and I’m too tired to care.
Too tired to fight.
Too tired to get out of bed.
Too tired to even keep breathing.
I don’t know how to keep going when
everything feels so heavy,
so pointless,
so wrong.

The light fades—
it’s been fading for a while now.
I don’t remember when it stopped shining,
but I can feel the darkness creeping in.
It wraps around me like a second skin,
and I don’t know how to take it off.
I want to scream.
I want to shout,
but my voice feels broken.
It’s like I’m invisible,
like no one can hear me,
and the silence is deafening.

Everything is dark,
and I’m still here,
fighting to breathe,
fighting to feel anything at all,
but nothing changes.
And I don’t know how much longer I can stay here—
in this emptiness,
in this darkness.
I don’t know how to move,
but I don’t know how to stay still either.
I’m just... here.

It doesn’t ask for permission.
It doesn’t wait for the “right” time.
One moment, I’m fine—
laughing, talking,
doing what I’m supposed to do.
Then the wave hits,
and everything falls apart.
Suddenly,
I’m drowning in my own head.

Sitting with friends—
I’m laughing,
I’m talking,
but inside,
I’m screaming.
I’m so far away from them,
and they don’t even know.
I can’t hear their voices anymore.
I can’t even hear myself.
I’m just stuck—
alone in a room full of people.

At school,
it’s worse.
I try to focus on the words,
on the lessons,
but it’s like they’re not even real.
The paper in front of me is blank,
my thoughts are blank,
and my mind is a million miles away.
Everything spins,
and I can’t stop it.
The walls are closing in.
My chest feels tight.
But I’m still here.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.

Sitting at my desk,
the homework’s impossible.
The words blur.
The numbers make no sense.
I want to throw it all away,
but I can’t.
I want to scream,
but I can’t.
I want to run,
but my legs don’t work.
It’s like I’m stuck in cement,
and the whole world is just passing me by.

Sometimes it hits in the middle of a conversation.
I’m talking,
laughing,
but none of it matters.
The words sound empty.
The sounds are hollow.
I just want to disappear.
I just want to walk away,
but I can’t.
I can’t leave.
I can’t do anything.

It hits without warning—
at random,
and it hits hard.
One minute, I’m breathing.
The next, I’m sinking,
drowning in a darkness that has no name.
And I don’t know how to make it stop.
I don’t know how to breathe again.
I don’t know how to live
when every moment feels like I’m dying.

We were stuck—frozen under the weight of a sun that burned like a punishment, a heavy force that dragged us in, making us feed on the very thing that was destroying us. The air felt wrong, suffocating, as if it were trying to choke the life out of us.
And then, once again, those empty horses came galloping through that violet door, their hooves thundering, following crooked paths that twisted in ways I couldn’t understand. They left shadows behind them, stretching across the moonlit floor like dark, twisted memories. The stars, those cold, distant things, gathered high above us—winged creatures, silent, watching, like the last remnants of humanity’s lost teachers. We had no choice but to bleed again, even as time shook us, spilling crystal blood like a dream that refused to end. A ripple in the wound, and then we woke up—alive but changed. You believe, and I believe, too—that you are the river of light, the one I hold on to, even as the night closes in, empty and endless, like a long, dark hallway with no end in sight.

Finish your nearly dead, full of
stress phase of an education
And when you are still alive
after this non-stop narration

Become a chained slave
Strangle yourself with work
Replaceable product, undervalued
because your boss is a dork

Hunt the treasure of lies
Russian roulette of dates
Hate is bigger than love
Still seen as soulmates

Lose yourself to the sheets
the day you marry someone
Pray to god, when your lover
dances with his handgun

Pictures of families with masks
to hide the black dark shadows
Don’t untwist your tongue
when the pain only grows

Start and raise a family
with kids you absolutely hate
Because, it doesn’t matter
when this is your fate

Can't get this page to fill
This pen is bleeding white noise

Creators are made off their failures
And achy finger joints

I'm digging untill my back breaks
Silence I won't accept

I promise
Next time I'll feel the words
I'll write
If they return

Act 1- The Urge
I want to scream.
But—
Instead I write,
The things I cannot say.

Act 2- The Tension
Silence.
My words are
Tearing
At these pages,
Trying to get out.
Freed.

Act 3- The Ache
Desperation—
Between every line
And pause.
Waiting,
Wanting,
To be seen,
To be heard,
Felt.