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Kai 1d
The intrusive thoughts
They call out to me
Whispering
In my ear
To take the axe
And ****** the first person nearby

They consume my brain
Once I pick up a pair
Of scissors
My thoughts
Once full of the intention of cutting up a crocheted pear
Now reduced to one
With the sole intent
To cover myself with super **** scars

They colonize
They mineralize
They reorganize
They way how
My nerves
And brain functions

They tell me
Everything is fine
When I do mere cat scratches
At my thighs and arms
They tell me to do more
And everything will be okay
They tell me
Everything is their fault anyway
They're the reason why I'm doing it
The stings
Fall away
And they keep encouraging
Telling me to try to cut deeper
With a dull blade

The axe
The axe is telling me to release my anger
Onto someone
Someone that deserves
Getting an axe
Thrown at their head
It's telling me
I'm not going to be a danger
To society
Or myself
If I follow
It's command

These thoughts
Are begging to see
Blood
Even though
I'm scared to see
The blood
I'm scared to see the insides of humans
Yet somehow
I manage
To let them see some blood
One way
Or another

From begging for me
To be punching holes
In the walls
To making me want to slit my own throat
And call it a day

They help me
By letting everything go by
They provide me
And help me see
That everything is going to be fine
They remove most of my struggles
And blame it on someone else
They reassure me
Like no one else can

They're like a leech
Yet, I still love them
toxicity! Anyways, i feel like I'm getting choked again! Yippee! I got to go home because of it too!
In my heart, the tears do call,
Each drop that falls, the heavens' thrall.
A whisper soft, a silent cry,
As if the soul would dare to fly.

In my gaze, the storm is stirred,
A spark of truth, a flash, a word.
It bends the soul, ignites the night,
And leads it through the realm of light.

In shadows deep, their secrets weave,
The night, a veil that dawns deceive.
Yet truth remains, though veiled, unseen,
In every hue, in what has been.

It’s not in notes that rise and fall,
But in the silence, beyond them all.
Where stillness breathes, the soul takes seat,
In beats unspoken, soft, complete.

In twilight’s glow, desires fade,
A fleeting flame, now softly laid.
Yet in its ashes, pure and true,
The soul's own fire is born anew
Ashes and Flames 26/03/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
The night hums a quiet tune,  
a melody lost between stars and sighs.  
Moonlight spills like silver ink,  
writing forgotten dreams on my skin.  

I chase echoes of a name I never spoke,  
woven in the hush of the wind.  
Footsteps dissolve in the sand,  
yet the tide carries them back—  
again, and again.  

Time bends where longing lingers,  
soft hands reaching for yesterday’s touch.  
But love, like mist,  
fades before fingers can hold it.  

So I gather the whispers,  
press them into my ribs,  
let them bloom beneath my breath—  
a garden of moments,  
eternal and unseen.
I walked through the quiet hush of dusk,
where echoes of dreams in shadows lay.
Soft whispers clung to the evening breeze,
calling me back to yesterday.

A lantern flickered deep in my chest,
its flame unsure, yet burning bright.
Through shattered paths and weary steps,
it carved its way into the night.

I gathered moments, thread by thread,
stitched them into skybound wings.
Though time may steal, and fate may fade,
some dreams still hum—some echoes sing.
The nights breeze, gently whispers,
The moon and all the stars, shimmers,
Lying on my back, gazing the cosmos,
through the sky filled with darkness.

In this darkness, stars are visible,
Like stars my love always will, bright and eternal,
Unknown of your affection, my heart in turmoil,
Through this storm my love will continue to be agile.

The night is long and keeps me wide awake
A glimmer of light in your heart, is what I seek,
Wanted to feel to be on loves peak,
Till the end of this life, it’s not gleek.

By
Sanji-Paul Arvind
H. In darkness,
R. shadows weave their silent threads,
H. whispers dance where moonlight dreads.

H. In light,
R. golden rays embrace the dawn,
R. hope reborn, the night withdrawn.

H. If I’m still broken,
R. let the wind collect my sighs,
H. stitch my soul where sorrow lies.

H. Laying despairingly in this life,
R. like a leaf in winter’s hand,
R. drifting lost through barren land.

R. Yet even roots in frozen ground,
hear the call of spring’s soft sound.
H. Through the cracks where teardrops fell,
hope still blooms, a quiet spell.
A duet written with ChatGPT as my partner. This is extremely experimental and will not be a running theme in my posts. Let me know how you think the AI did each line is marked with H for human or R for robot.
Sam S Mar 8
You know that feeling?
The weight of words unsaid,
of pages paused mid-sentence,
of stories that never found their end.

We left the ink to settle,
the lines still carved in quiet space.
Not erased, not spoken—
just waiting in the in-between.

You swore the tide never pulled you in,
that the fire never warmed your skin.
Yet echoes stay, they don’t erase—
some truths remain, though left unnamed.

Some moments slip like sand,
some ghosts refuse to fade.
And silence, though it speaks in whispers,
still knows the words we never said.
I come from Kashmir
where land is green & white snow bed
and I come from Kashmir
where roads aren’t black but are red.

I come from Kashmir
where Daughter Tajamul brought Gold
and I come from Kashmir
where daughter Nafiya craves for her father’s body and lost his soul.

I come from Kashmir
where journalists get Peter Mackler & Pulitzer awards
and yet I come from Kashmir
where journalists get charged under UAPA as a reward.

I come from Kashmir
where Thekedar gets benefits under the Roshni Act
and I come from Kashmir
where an internet shutdown of 551 days was for every sect.

I come from Kashmir
where Gupta g ranked 1st in the country
and yet I come from Kashmir
where youth have to carry ID’s to prove their identity.

I come from Kashmir
which was known for its cultural dress Pheran
and I come from Kashmir
which now has more business in selling Kaffan.

I come from Kashmir
which Allama called the valley of braves
and I come from Kashmir
which now is the valley of Graves.

I come from Kashmir
which was called Earth’s Heaven
and yet I come from Kashmir
which now is the World’s Biggest Prison.

I come from Kashmir
where Chinars paint the autumn gold
and I come from Kashmir
where every spring, new tombstones unfold.

I come from Kashmir
where Dal Lake mirrors the moon’s glow
and I come from Kashmir
where blood taints the rivers’ flow.

I come from Kashmir
where children dream of books and play
and I come from Kashmir
where childhoods vanish in smoke and clay.

I come from Kashmir
where lovers once whispered in gardens wide
and yet I come from Kashmir
where silence now walks side by side.

I come from Kashmir
where poets wrote of love and fate
and yet I come from Kashmir
where verses now carry only weight.

I come from Kashmir
which history books fail to define
and I come from Kashmir
which lives between the headlines’ lines.
A voice from Kashmir—serene on the surface, deep with unspoken stories.
Maryann I Feb 28
Soft are the sighs of the evening’s embrace,
laced in the hush of a silver-lit breeze.
Waltzing in whispers, the night leaves a trace,
brushing my cheek with a delicate tease.

Gossamer ribbons of moonlight descend,
trailing my footsteps in flickering white.
Coy is the dance as the fireflies blend,
spun in the glow of a star-lover’s light.

Fingers like lace trace the edge of a dream,
velveted laughter afloat on the air.
Oh, how the midnight was made to be seen—
darling and dainty, yet wickedly fair.

Tell me, sweet wanderer lost in my spell,
would you still chase me if I never fell?
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