#6
It closes as fast as it opened,
No one goes inside,
No one sees what's inside,
I fantasize about what is hiding from me in there,
Why they all go in there without me and leave me waiting outside,
Picking at dandelions.
I feel as if I’m the only one that isn't allowed to go in there,
Since the beginning they said, “No, don’t go in there.”
Then all of them go in,
And I sit for hours outside waiting,
Thinking it must be special to be in there,
Not outside waiting in the pouring rain.
I make up stories in my head,
About me and my friends going on adventures,
And pick at the dandelions in front of me;
They stain my little hands yellow.
Time passes by and they come back outside and all walk home,
They walk past me and ignore me,
I act as if they didn't do it,
As if I just imagined that too.
I get home and Mom asks me how my day was with them,
I say it was amazing and smile.
The next day I walk with them to the door and they all walk inside,
They slam the door before I can walk in,
Saying I wouldn't understand it anyway,
That when I'm old enough I’ll also be allowed to go inside.
I wait for that day,
The day I can see what’s behind that door that I fantasize over.
I walk over to my spot and sink down,
Into the patch of dirt I’ve worn into the grass,
Continuing where I left off yesterday.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 8:46 AM UTC
~for our resident translator, she’ll know who by my ooh la la~
“***Algorithm-driven social media platforms have also sent the natural cycle of slang formation into overdrive. In the ceaseless search for novel material to feed users, those platforms elevate new trends and coinages at a rate that can be exhausting for those trying to keep up”
New York Times
6,7***
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 2:00 PM UTC
Where you stand now,
can be moved.
It's either you or
the ground.
Is it light you seek
or darkness?
If you remain immovable
Like that thing in the street,
Tripping, your face will meet
The ground, hard.
Lay ****** and bruised,
Defiant as the cement
That slapped your face.
It gets dark real fast
When all you hear is the mold
That lays you to rest.
Be alert and aware like
A library door.
Possibly your unnoticed
Life is awakened by
Words that wrap you with
History and comfort as if
Every minute is the opening
From a wrapper of your
Favourite candy. Live
In the trace of light
Where you stand.
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 12:28 PM UTC
That is what it is like
when somebody loves you
more than you love yourself.
You find you're loving them,
and in loving you trust,
both them and their judgment.
*If he loves me for me,
and I love and trust him,
then I should love myself
just the way that I am.*
and
*I want to be the one
he is deserving of,
and I want to become
the best version of me.*
and
*It's not just for his sake
that I want to improve.
I'll grow and change for him,
but also for myself.*
That is what it is like.
Aug 27, 2021
Aug 27, 2021 at 11:42 PM UTC
⁛
i
am a
sentimental
physicist.
observing
the gravity
of emotion.
noting the
subtle lensing
of light,
as it
filters
passed you
and
distorts my
star weary
eyes.
i must
crunch the
equations &
check them
twice
before
i don
aluminum,
endure
your
endless
cold,
& shoot
for your
moon.•
○.
⁂⁖
.
the
mass
effect
of you
consumes.
hypothesis:
your
spirit’s
path is
visible
light,
racing
towards
a cosmic
wall; to
decorate
galactic sky
as microwave
impressionism.
•°.
.
to
make
sense of
your dark,
i spend
my nights
measuring
boundless
black
matter that
surrounds us.
enraptured
by the
scented skyline
prophesying:
jet propulsion,
serenaded, and
lemonade rainfall;
Armageddon
upon another
acid planet.
your pain
upon the
reaches
still unpinned
by travelled
telescopes;
dying
technologies
making me
jealous of
all the
places where
the universe
sees the
parts
of you
i am
physically
incapable
of being. °
•.
⁖⁕
.
as love
moves
in ellipticals
it eclipses
my heart,
eventually.
always,
the awe
never ceases
to inspire me.
invokes my
muse.
devote my
life to
translating
the beauty of
its euphoria
into the
English
vernacular.
ceaselessly.
to release
the burden of
it’s memory
like the sun
burned into
my retinas.
i compose &
compute each
intangible
equation.
nuance
comprises
itself onto
endless notations.
converting numbers,
filtered through
my limbic system,
into colloquial
prose.
closest words
to illustration,
as my
cerebellum
can
surmise. •
. •°.
•.
code the
sentences
unto
my poems;
my theories
of everything.
presenting
my poetry
to everyone
as my
thesis.
phantoms
obsessing
my mind
my only
tangible
evidence.
am i
still the
only
person
who can
see
how
perfect
we
are?
the
only
person
who
sees
our
future
written
in the
stars?
-six pm
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 3:44 PM UTC
I wake up to a morning where,
Splendour sketches an idyllic scene,
Snowy clouds shroud the dazzling sun,
Swallows soar high, gliding,
Through these vehement winds,
Rustling leaves sing an ode to this peace,
Grey, white, blue, blur into one,
A myriad of colours found beautiful by none,
All Acts and Roles- forgotten,
And the Play- lost,
Trapped in this second,
Enchanted by no magic,
Every passing moment envies the next,
Solitude settles in the air,
Loneliness bids me goodbye,
Rationale screams for realization,
But soul guides me to tranquility,
Life seeps back into me;
I'm awake.
I find joy.
I find myself.
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 8:31 AM UTC
Dear {Deadname},
It's been a while, I'm sorry. I don't know if you want me to write to you, or if you want me to just talk. Maybe you don't even want that, I don't know. Maybe you just want me to show you how much I love you physically. (I don't mind any of that.) It's okay. Take your time to figure it out. Love's a weird thing. So is writing to you. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but it's different now you're mine. The world changed, in a good way, but even good changes are different. I know that I want to love you. I just don't quite now how to love you yet, but I'll figure it out. We'll figure it out. Maybe it's kissing you every day, maybe it's writing a letter every night. Maybe it's both, or none at all. Love is not 'a thing.' It's different every single time. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. You have needs, things you want. So do I. I don't think I know you that well, and that's alright. (I hope...) I wanna get to know you. In every way. I don't know how. I don't know what the meaning of this letter is, but maybe that's the meaning.
Forever yours
Sincerely, Me
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 5:40 AM UTC
You say you'll kiss me,
You say you'll dare.
But when I can finally touch you,
You don't wanna be there
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 2:05 PM UTC
Six feet under,
Down the drain.
Lie my feelings,
Is my luck.
Six feet under,
Under this dirt.
Is my hapiness,
Is my love.
Six feet under,
Or hidden anywhere.
Depression is here,
Right inside me.
Six feet under,
Where we live.
I try to
Cover this sadness.
Six feet under.
I try to hide,
Alcohol, Drugs, Cigarettes.
I'm slowly suffocating.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 2:19 AM UTC
s t a y o n g r o u n d
e v e n w h e n y o u ' v e r e a c h e d
t h e f a r t h e s t
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
Everything I see,
Turns into ideas.
Poems, paintings,
Music, art.
My life is full,
Unfinished.
Drafts everywhere.
Surrounded by
Undone paintings.
I Sometimes
Have to,
Clean it all up.
Delete, Erase,
Rip apart.
So you can go now.
I don't need you,
You're a
Worthless idea.
It's all
Worthless
Anyway
< >
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 2:47 AM UTC
_If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it._
Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.
_Reason 6, Lillie_
I might've mentioned it once or twice, this name, person, mind. This is probably one you can't relate to much. But maybe I can make you feel as if it does. I once heard this beautiful voice, that said my name. Well, it wasn't even my actual name. Just a nickname. You said: "Lillie, what you you think?" While you showed me one of your drawings. I was in love within a second. That beautiful voice, that one word never left my mind since. I wish it did though. It's killing me, Like i'm slowly suffocating. Lily's are pretty flowers. But are the dead ones too? Or can't you see that the flowers are turning into dust? Can't you see i'm struggling staying alive just like the flowers? Can't you see you never call me lillie anymore? Can't you see where i'm going?
I'm turning into dust.
You're the reason,
I'm doing this to myself.
So are you the reason,
I'm saving myself.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 7:03 AM UTC