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I wish for the emptiness,insecurities, and hatred to leave.
And leave nothing but their footprints,
their sound and their silence.
A little reminder that they were once here.
Like some of my friends.
I wish to thank them soon for leaving.
Because apparently,
I only have a few room in my heart-
for one thing or another.
And it could no longer be
for things
that doesnt wish to stay.
midnight and i'm still here
tapping out words in the hope
that i'll write something worthy
of reading.

the instructions aren't clear:
am i supposed to sleep
or work on word therapy
and...feelings?

i don't care now
just turn on tiktok
and i'll slip into my beloved
mind coma
Trigger warningVery disturbing
Dear sir, I write to you at a time when
Bloodshed has become a trending hashtag.
When genocide is another word for good morning.
When a mosquito bite has resulted in a bird flu
and the bird owner has been quarantined.
"The bird should be discarded" you decree.
On its wings it conveyed passion, ideas and businesses.
A confidant, a pillar it has become.
A pillar of support no government parastatal offered.
I write that you reconsider for from my little knowledge, no one can cage a bird.
It is meant for the skies so let it fly.
Yours faithfully, a very lazy youth.


@poeticifi
Nigerian government has banned Twitter. I say this with my two hands covering my face in shame. While deaths are occurring thanks to terrorism, all he can think of is banning Twitter because his tweets were deleted.
rig Jun 3
ps
by candlelight i write a feeling,
a tattooed secret onto parchment
on its fourth life – it’s simple enough:
h███ ██↋█ █f███_
that is all – nothing else is needed.
then i sign at the bottom, fold the
letter twice, carefully place it in
a yellowed envelope, seal it shut –
and i feed it to the flame, wishing.
It's time to write,
As in right now.
So write.
Right this second.
Do it.
Please.
Just write.
It doesn't have to be right - just write!
And now it's gone.
I'll write next time... right?
rig May 18
i cannot remember how uncomfortable the chairs
at my highschool were – i just know that they must have been so.
all those science classes kept both my eyes on the window,
lost in dreams of different lives. i thought ‘nobody cares’
was a good reason to erase my problems – mine, not theirs,
no, ha! – so i went along with that life (emphasis, though,
on the li-e). that’s when i discovered the one way to go:
words. stories. a dim, slow lightbulb that caught me unawares.
first fearful steps turned to blog posts, then a fantasy tome;
short fiction gave way to poetry and recovery.
it took me years to know what to be floating on air is –
and now this broken english is what i call home sweet home,
imbued with the daily gift of a grand discovery:
that there are worlds still hiding from me in dictionaries.
Noura May 16
Every body is always trying to understand
Even to force
All of these binary oppositions
On everything and everyone
But here I am
An odd one out
I am everything and nothing
I am a saint
And I am a sinner
I am happy
And I am sad
I am male
And I am female
I am a child
And I am an adult
I am dead
And I am alive
I am everything
And I am nothing.
Brett May 12
Intensity is the underdog story
Wild soil to a champion
Flame out, and maybe
Fell to the drink

Consistency is two years without
So much as a batted eye or a blink
Ten steps ahead, maybe half an inch per week
Books with battered spines stretched across coffee-stained sheets

Intensity is ***, or
A free trial for a week
Gold plated words
Tin can actions underneath

Consistency is the love, and
Knowing I know I will never know enough
Unconscious heartbeat
The very breath that fills my lungs
Brett May 10
I see your reflection in the glass
***** mirrors distorting visions of my past
Lonely, naked in the rain
The wind baby, always whispering your pain

Corrosive thoughts slowly poisoning my brain
I was broken long ago
A silent sickness
Steadily driving me insane

My conscious mind refrains
From falling out or giving in
I will go without
On the strength of that which lies within
Wilkes Arnold May 10
I can't write a word
Or even pickup a pen
I wish I had hands
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