My story began like many tales of first love.
You held immense power over me,
First, turning me into a modern-day Cinderella,
Only to cast me aside,
Leaving me in shattered fragments, rattling me to my core,
Shaking the trust and future we had envisioned together.

Yet, from this heartbreak came my transformation from a fallen princess to a radiant queen.
I painstakingly rebuilt myself, layer by layer, to be soft, adaptable, rooted, and compassionate, on a strong foundation of self-love.
Now, I stand tall, radiating the brilliance of my inner light.
Unburdened by anxiety or fear, I fully embrace the new beginning.

My life, once so dull,
Now feels immensely full.
My worries are all gone,
We have so much fun at dawn.

My life, once so boring,
Is now soaring.
When I see her, my heart skips a beat,
I feel my body feel with heat.

She fills my life with joy,
And she never treats me like a toy.
I thought I'd never find love,
But she flew into my life like a dove.

She fills my life with peace.
My stress has found its release.
My life has been forever changed by a love so true,
All thanks to you.

echo me close to your silence
trace me near to your sighs
soften me with your edges
and fall me into your eyes (could this be real, so real, so real)

melt me into your yearning
blur me into your need
where walls become like water
and this broken begins to heal (could this be real, so real, so real)

and fall me into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes.
almost alive, alive

color me with your whispers
paint me almost your dawn
where going is no longer coming
and leaving's almost gone (could this be real, so real, so real)

dance me through your defenses
float me through to your pain
pour me through your edges
till stone turns soft as rain (could this be real, so real, so real)

melt me into your yearning
blur me into your need
where distance becomes surrender
and stone begins to feel (could this be real, so real, so real)

and fall me into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes.
almost alive (could this be real, so real, so real)

stone walls falling
still morning breaking through
every step forward
almost into you (could this be real, so real, so real)

and fall me into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes. almost alive (could this be real, so real, so real)…
     and fall me into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes. almost alive…
          let's dance, let's dance, let's dance me into your eyes,
              your eyes, your eyes…
                   forever spinning into your eyes, your eyes, your eyes…
                       i'm almost alive, alive, almost alive…
                          i'm almost alive, alive, almost alive…

I used to hold truth
like a weapon —
sharp, clean, final.

But now it moves.

Not like a lie,
not like denial —
but like a tide
that’s been waiting for me
to grow strong enough
to swim deeper.

What I swore was solid,
now trembles in my hands.
Not because it was false —
but because I’ve changed.

And now I fear
not the truth itself,
but the way
it keeps becoming.

oh yes, but would you like to see me smile?

i stand above the bathroom sink,
staring in the mirror
under the flickering light over my head.
the dark circles, familiar—
a pair of scissors, one hand twitching,
strands of hair lying in the wash basin.
i chopped my hair in half,
shredded, shaggy layers framing my face.
a smile of freedom, one of acceptance,
the glistening madness in the eyes unsaid.

i stir what once was my skin,
now mere blood—tying myself to this life with an oath,
my ode to swear, to protect and to stay
true to my kin.
cruelty vibing in chaos-kissed violence.
how many times do i shed this skin
until it's not me who remains in the mirror,
and i finally forget my own name?

babies grow old into something brutal—
monsters that walk this place,
sing lullabies to their own preachers.
i've slipped and fallen and i've been left behind,
but the board i'd been playing upon
it turned upside down.
here, the world relies on my head.
i've got the ceiling under my feet,
the skies in my chest.
every ragged breath speaks a tune—
a horror comedy, ransacked, askew.

anew, this curse—
laughing while running through a field,
landmines under my feet.
drapery of melancholy, slips forsaken, hugs me tight.
the curtain of reality—i tear it half.
hands reaching out as claws,
drawing scars on the delusions.
there's beauty in forgiving,
madness in illusion.

once again, again, and again once more.
sixty-one days crossed out on the calendar
that once held way too many promises.
the ladder of failure and of persistence
carries bodies drowning in trying and abstinence.

there isn't any exit in the end.
the broken headphones,
cacophonies of blown-out candles
and half-smushed chocolate cake—
a brief history, periodical, falling,
hell-bent trying to be treacherous,
reaching out to pull the noise from music,
leaving raw voices, hearing them bruise.
archive this, paint the mess, click a picture,
write a note, believe the misplaced faith.
chase that feeling,
run half a mile toward the grim.

oh, but do you see the lights
when you close your eyes?
shattering silence.
the dance of a rugged doll—
i turned her key thrice, and once more.
better to be safe than sorry
amid the growing legions of undeterred regions.
do you hold her or stay near?

tsk, tsk, tsk—sounds of your begging,
faking every emotion, every gathering.
these masks of clay, carved to stone.
pity, pity, pity.
do you even remember who you were before?

empathy is a sin disguised as understanding.
sympathy for the weaklings.
you're playing monogamy,
devour the strength of the flies and the snickers.
tattoo yourself with flames—
let them draw in the scorching heat,
watch them be triggered.

sinners walk this place,
absent, indigenous—
they'll perish soon either way.

proclaim the promises in disguise
of gods for whom you pray.
metamorph into frankensteins,
surrender fascism—
believers of the wrong truths.
mercy shall be provided to you.

i might be the villain.

She opened her heart with
too much force.
She gripped it with fingers from both hands
ripping it apart
revealing
too many fragments of her soul.
They spilled out with
too much momentum and ended up
sprawled out
on the floor.
Will he notice the precious fractals of
her sweet spirit
crushed and broken on the ground?
Will he step over them?
On them?
Or sweep them under the rug?
Does he see the masterpiece that just
destroyed herself from being
too daring
too close to the edge?
She has
too little patience
to leave it up to him
what to do with the wreckage displayed.
She carefully picks up each piece
mindful of the sharp edges and new angels.
She borrows sap from her favorite Pine.
Blends it with gold dust powder
borrowed from ancestral strength
stored in her spine.
Applying this sturdy paste
she meticulously reconstructs
the segments of her discarded gift
into an alchemized transformation.
A Kinstsugi treasure with a new reservoir
inviting the love she has for herself
which can never be
too much.

They say all wounds heal with time.
But how do you measure time
in a place with no light?

I could not remember
how long I had wandered astray
in that empire of endless midnight.

Colors had all bled out.
Black had swallowed blue.
Gray had ashed over red.

The sun—
if it had ever shone there—
had disappeared behind a veil of stone
and had become nothing more
than a distant memory.

Where days blurred into one long, unbroken night,
the sadness took,
and took,
and took again,
like an insatiable parasite
burrowed in my chest,
suckling the sap from my soul
the way strangleweed chokes the life from trees,
its roots worming within me,
feeding on the rot it had planted.

I felt its bony fingers tighten around me
and pull me forward.

So, I walked
with the dull resignation
of something too tired to resist,
hauled down a path
I had never chosen,
but could no longer turn from.

The road ahead felt cursed.

Each breath was heavier.
Each step was a leaden weight,
dragging me closer
to the unseen flames
that licked the edges
of that night
that had forgotten dawn.

Somewhere along the way,
I had stopped missing anything,
except maybe—
that stupid part of me
that had clutched at hope.

Yet still, I pressed on—
though that endless march felt absurd.

It led me to the bank of the river
that had been calling me forth all along.

The black tide was whispering my name.

A faceless boatman was standing there,
hidden beneath his hood,
his lantern spilling firelight
across restless ghosts.

He seemed to be waiting for me.

I did not ask his name,
and I did not bother to ask
what price must be paid
to cross to the other brink,
because there are things you already know
before the question leaves your lips,
and deep down,
I already knew
the cost.

I thought about it.
I really did.

But just as I was about to step forward to embark,
something,
some ridiculous,
whispering ember in me
begged me to stay.

So I turned my gaze
from the void where darkness swelled,
and I looked upward.

A fragile glint absurdly far ahead
beckoned me forward
so I left the boatman, his lantern
and the churning river behind me
and I strode
upon that fateful shore,
dragging this body I barely recognized.

And the rage inside me,
the one that tried to **** me—
it quieted.

Just a little.

Just enough
for me to feel the air
still filling my lungs—
even if it tasted of fire.

Yes—
sorrow still draped its veil of stone over the clouded mornings.

Yes—
the wounds still ached beneath the stitches.

Yes.
Yes.

All of it—
Yes.

And yet,
I finally started to feel the blood flow in my veins again.

So,
I started to climb.

And,
to this day,
though weary,
though worn and weak—
having tasted the night,
having stood at the edge where the flames licked the dark,
having turned from the river that whispered my name—
higher, I rise
to emerge from the chasm.

For far beyond the ashen clouds,
I know something awaits.

Something vast.
Something luminous.

And I know—
one day,
when I step beyond this darkness
and pierce the cindered heavens,
the planets will greet me,
they will lay their blazing rays upon my shoulders
like a tender vesture of celestial gold,
and crown the scars upon my skin
with their halos of fire.

For I know the endless skies hold light
for all who dare to seek.