#innerconflict
the innocence of eyes, lost in the gaze of time—
innocent; don’t call my bluff when i don’t pick up.
dropped my id on the floor; left my name there too—
all of you worship icons, applying their lessons,
pressing on people like icons on a screen.
wearing heavy armour by night; heavy burdens—
but dead is the knight. a mute song only the deaf
can hear; hoofs beating nearby while i wore devil
horns pretending innocence; a halo stuffed in my
pocket right after greeting someone hello.
slithering through lies— not worms, just people.
while those who undermine you end up under
the hoofs, gone; just like our innocence, when we
all performed, for people who never had any at all.
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 1:33 PM UTC
I used to be patient,
good at waiting—
waiting to see things get better.
I held my anger well
through most of what I lived.
Now my patience is wearing thin.
Every minute I wait
feeds the fire growing inside me.
I used to be good at listening.
Now it feels like there’s a clock inside me—
whenever I try to listen to someone,
it starts ticking,
as if there’s a time limit.
I only hear
my thoughts
running.
I used to know how to tolerate
and how to please,
even when they looked at me
like I was a different species.
I would brush it off
and try to fit in.
The kindness I showed others
felt like a quiet betrayal
of my own being.
I gave
and gave,
and gave
until it hollowed me out.
I reached my limit quietly.
No one noticed
the weight I was carrying.
Only curious eyes
studied my face,
trying to make sense of it
in their own way.
Now their gazes no longer reach my eyes.
I still hear the whispers,
but my steps fall steady
against the ground.
May 3
May 3, 2026 at 2:12 PM UTC
Show up for yourself: a slight show-off…
a showboat, afloat on the current of emotions
that try to capsize you. I inhale, and it tastes
amazing; carrying moist lips, saliva sweet
with self-speech— I speak greatly of myself
...until the praise turns on me.
Pleasure makes me weak; a whole week
overwhelmed by the sound of my own name.
A beautiful wound— I swallow you whole;
heart first… through my chest and echo.
Once an innocent body, screaming into a room
that only learned to listen after it heard noise.
Group texts succeeds and grow grotesque;
to **** seeds from something meant to grow—
spitting flowers onto ground that forgot how to hope.
In the pursuit of self-gratification, beauty becomes
something we surrender; the grandest role—
the Pretender.
I am a quiet Avenger with no team to assemble;
just mirrors to remember what I resemble.
To consider me showing skin and scars alike;
like confidence cut short— a skirt too brief
to hide the hurt.
Short on time, tall on pride— quick to climb,
faster to hide; keen to seek, but softer to speak,
voicing the meek with a voice that leaks before
it thinks.
Deep breath in— take it all, child…
this life doesn’t perform, it reveals.
May 3
May 3, 2026 at 2:25 AM UTC
Time sits still in a dream, my skin stays lucid,
quiet… too quiet. Like a body paused between
moments, breath held as if waking would ruin it.
Sometimes I am a movie: still frames stitching
words into pictures, pictures dissolving into dreams…
And these dreams— feel more real than anything
I’ve lived awake. I am a romantic flick— but I’ve
been more romantically involved to my fears;
Dressed in soft persuasion, they linger close—
whispering reasons not to try. I entertain them…
let them sit too near: an affair with hesitation,
that feels safer than stepping outside.
We flirt with endings; death in the distance,
dressed in quiet certainty; and we dress our
doubts in reason— reasonable doubts, tailored
thoughts, fitted just right— but what is reasonable
doubt when doubt keeps rewriting the script?
A reason to doubt.
I can’t deny these dreams, the way they
sit quiet… but alive— resting in my chest
like a heartbeat waiting to be heard.
Do you hear me in these words?
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 5:48 PM UTC
Lost within a heavy armor
A wild star pierces the crust
Striking like a young bolt of thunder
Sometimes it lets me reach the lips
A few words are uttered
Stuck in no man's land
The blunt sickle of the moon cuts me
Incurable gashes made of embers
A cold sun stands in my throat
A rib carves against the heart's shards
The silent verses of a poetess
Oklop
Izgubljena u oklopu teškom
Probija koru podivljala zvijezda
Udara kao mladi grom
Nekada me pusti na usne
Izusti se poneka riječ
Zaglavljena u nemilosti
Siječe me tup srp mjeseca
Nezaceljive posjekotine od žara
Hladno mi sunce u grlu stoji
Rebro kleše po srči srca
Nijeme stihove pjesnikinje
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 7:43 AM UTC
In the same sense: I’m just too reckless;
tried to follow this heart, but it came with
no directions… kept one close to my chest—
still came off careless; probably looking like
someone who cares less.
But when you find something worth caring
for: she’s a woman you adore in paths & phases;
learning the road to her heart, loving her through
stages— even when the curtain falls, she’s still
that theatrical release behind the back stages.
Maybe I’ve been too good, at staging emotions,
constipated… acting like I’ve got no crap to give.
But crap— maybe I’ve got a whole heart to give;
a piece of it, an inch to each echo heard across
a room… once it used to roar— now it performs,
a lion in a playpen… a heart tamed.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 5:23 PM UTC
I don’t like to talk about feelings,
and that’s really how I’m feeling;
I don’t think I owe you a reason…
and really, that’s the reason.
I live in two dimensions—
two versions of me;
One learns love, the other loves
in dementia— forgetting what
real love is meant to be.
Like a quiet tragedy: bringing
someone home as “the one”…
only to leave home as just your one.
From holding hands walking
in, to single-handedly walking
out— realizing how untrue
that “true love” was.
You spoke in bars, built a cage
with them; traded real feeling for
monetary love… now you’re rich
in everything except what you felt.
And the moment?
it lingers—
Even subtle feelings settle deep;
common sense says feel it, but
we spend extra cents just to keep
it cheap. Because feelings mean
bleeding, and bleeding means healing;
and healing…
is the only reason
we ever move on—
Even when we’re still learning which
version of us is real enough to feel.
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 12:22 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel this tugging at my heart.
It's weird cause I haven't felt anything in a while.
I hate that tugging.
I know it's trying to revive itself,
but I don't want it to.
Whenever I come across a memory
It jumps,
as if its trying to say
"Remember? Remember?"
I lie and tell it
"No, now shut up."
It's just better if it remains silent.
Of course it doesn't get that
Nope there it is
Jumping.
Tugging.
Can't you see I am lifeless?
Of course not
the heart doesn't have eyes
Unfortunately.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
Sometimes… I don’t feel like
I’m good at how I write— right?
Pretending I’m that good; for people
to say I am... but I’m not that good.
Most times… I’m not so good at
being so right— right?
Pretending like I’m good; for people
to say I am... but I’m not that good.
Just writing life as a conflicted
artist, who doesn’t feel right in it—
right?
Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 4:59 PM UTC
Replicating thoughts—reptile skins, changing
shadows, down to earth; repping tiles—
:revolving doors, resolving morals through
cutthroat self-worth; like ice-cold Sprite slicing
my throat— lime seeds bite, then lemon trees
from words; what I spit, I plant— pain grows
proof, even when it hurts.
A six-pack that hurts from trading sixpacks,
late nights; uncontrollable forces still, I force
control within— a brown stain on white forces,
forces me to face what shows; at least a piece
of white remains, at least a piece of growth
still grows, even when it feels slow.
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 4:45 PM UTC
Haven’t swam in the dating pool, for a while—
adding a tank full of chlorine to the centre,
:staying safe by the shallow side…
whereas I leave a party early, I’m leaving
partly as myself; half of me held back,
the other half unsure it helps.
I'm pretty sure,— I’m more insecure than
I’m meant to be sure; maybe a flower in your
hair; someone softly entitled to your love—
the heir to your heart.
Attracted to each other’s being, but being
the being to someone’s being is heavier
than it reads— when you’re an insecure
human being, trying match love's being...
or maybe I haven't found my match.
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 3:59 PM UTC
Running; running into something—
something running… seems trivial.
:gunfire; fire guns to end a war;
their working hands, worked too much.
Digging graves, those grave decisions;
like a sudden kiss to end a friendship...
Endless friends, still recalling your foes’
middle names. Strange?
To hate is to acknowledge; acting
knowledge— truly irrelevant, seems
:so irrelevant, truly— to sew threads
to your materialism; chasing a bag,
till that baggage bags your heart…
I guess we’re all running; running
into something— nothing!
Mar 25
Mar 25, 2026 at 4:23 PM UTC
Poison the flower; closed door,
knock twice, friction sparks energy,
:contradiction hums confusion —
find a strobe-light pulse, like a
seventies disco, dancing in the dark,
— heartbeat flickers.
The feeling will come again—
your five senses lift toward the sun,
never settling for less.
So water that flower, watch the petals
drink light, thorns sharp with lessons,
life bending toward growth.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 3:57 PM UTC
The cold, stale air begins to hesitate,
In quiet dismay, this must be our fate.
I question every lingering detail,
One day, this will be told in folktales.
My life now drifts toward a silent stalemate.
Stories of heroes and villains,
Tragedy and violence—how it is written.
Morals twist and break,
Faint voices scream in the dark, “mistakes.”
Many paths intertwine, leading to one final mission.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 1:28 PM UTC
Broken strings, glass-tear eyes—
where’s that smile from a distance?
:been a bit distant—
clapped back at feelings; can you hear
the applause in the distance?
You are my world in a world full of sin—
seen as you are, sin as you are; I still let
you in; for better, no worse— your cold,
my warm…you don’t just feel—
you are my poem.
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 4:43 PM UTC
Crossing both fingers— hoping my luck
aligns with a healthy beginning; I should’ve
stopped leaning on lovers to fill me with meaning,
A cigarette kissed my middle finger— baby it’s
still stinging; now I flick curses with an itchy finger…
The Uno card I played yesterday wasn’t winning—
a wild-card start with no healthy beginning: the next
time I fall, take me as new, I’m just a beginner;
Pushing to the limit, limit pushing feelings —
“please, Lord”—I whisper, “I'm just a beginner;”
a sinner rehearsing the role of forgiving, convincing
myself I'm not a sinner; truth is, for me…
I need that healthy beginning.
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 6:26 AM UTC
Livelihood for the good things—
not much of it… who isn’t
chasing good feels? tell me—
what good, feels?
Obsessed with good, do good,
mirror me, past me, run from it—
run to it, the system is updated—
but the same me.
Yes, I'm current like a sea shore—
never dry, just shifting sides; up,
down—this channel I’m on, I'm
really a seesaw.
Jump as I climb, still drop in time;
bygone, a quick goodbye; gone:
I've moved on; my spirit feels fly—
or just flies by; I paint my time in
voice and word, make it feel good,
to express myself on the fly.
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 2:07 AM UTC
I am the problem
when the rope is too tight to cut.
I am the problem
when your doubts gnaw at you
and push you to the edge
of something bitter.
I am the problem
when you want to protect
your fractured frame
and think I’m getting in your way.
I am the problem
when you don’t want to see
a different color.
I am the problem
when you are ashamed
of your unlived years.
You are my problem
when there’s a constant war
between two parts of me,
and I can’t get out of this mess
without hurting you.
So who is going to solve us
when life looks like a city
we’ve never walked before,
and a puzzle
left unfinished
and I still don’t know
which way to go.
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 8:20 AM UTC
A love paradox — I don’t fall in love…
I fall into question: “I think I’m in love”—
no… I’m not.
Going missing… or just missing you?
Acting reckless— but when I recover
from this, I’m hoping to be wreck less.
A better conclusion.
Feels like my face is about to break out—
“please don’t press that pimple;”
Don’t force heal the issue, as your skin
keeps trying to find a way out; this body’s
just a cage we decorate, while dreaming
of a way to break out.
Overall, watching life through opposing
mirrors— every reflection arguing with itself
showing me more than it appears
Layers stitched in silence, truth tucked under
presentation; there’s more of you beneath
those overalls.
Protect yourself, invest your health, extend
your wealth, learn from others; be yourself.
Who are you trying to impress, if they really
don’t value your self?
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 4:53 PM UTC
The foreboding push to the west—
Should I proceed, or fail the test?
Am I ready for freedom’s flame?
Why do I still call out his name?
Please enter now, and be my guest.
The soil is stiff and laced with frost,
Each choice another quiet cost.
Sadness clings to my outer shell—
Why must these demons choose to dwell?
Call me when you’re feeling lost.
Snow-capped peaks, a perfect scene,
Too bad I numb with methamphetamine.
The forest burns—wild, uncontrolled,
Desire’s grip won’t let me hold.
Want to see a magic trick?
The flowers bloom, so bright, so bold,
Why is my family always cold?
My tears dissolve into the stream,
Still, I dare to chase the dream—
One day, I will be in control, what I have been told
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 12:11 PM UTC
I'm a knight, fighting for my king.
I'm a king, fighting for my land.
I'm a slave, fighting for my rights.
I'm a lover, fighting for my love.
I'm a fighter, fighting for pride.
I'm a goner, fighting for my time.
I'm a prisoner, fighting for my release.
I'm a freedom fighter, fighting for independence.
I'm here, I'm there doing all kinds of crazy things.
Living my life merrily, with a beautiful family I built.
I'm Richer than the existing numbers.
Taller than Mount Everest.
Stronger than the mighty elephant.
Built like a Greek god.
But then, suddenly, I wake up.
I'm no one.
I'm a nobody.
No one notices me.
A stranger in a vast, indifferent world.
Not special, not like in my dreams.
Just a normal human living a normal life,
With high expectations,
Dreams I can’t stop watching,
And too lazy to make them real.
Yet here I am,
Still breathing, still dreaming,
And that is all the fight I have left.
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 7:20 AM UTC
I wake up tasting rust,
and call it breakfast.
The sun looks guilty,
but I still blame the rain.
I hate the chairs,
the way they wait for me.
I hate the air,
how it touches without asking.
And I hate that I hate
like a dog chewing on its own tail,
thinking it's a bone,
thinking it's a gift.
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 11:33 AM UTC
White tees. Tank tops. Bare arms.
Thoughts trail backwards—
my thinking cap worn in reverse.
I reach for a verse.
...but my Bible
is well-dressed in dust.
Some days I wear faith
like a sweatshirt— soft at first,
until pressure pulls at every fibre
and I want it off.
Peeling pride from my chest
should feel freeing—
...instead, I feel naked
in ways fabric never fixed.
Rags & Expensive tags —
another kind of poor.
Time wears us all thin, while we
keep wearing life’s heavy clothes—
stitched with ego, tailored by fear.
Dressed to survive.
...quietly undressed by truth.
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 2:38 PM UTC
Calm, unconfident, weary face
Maybe running a imaginary race,
What can it done, he asked
Deep inside already lost with reality stack
Great throughts of his Unknownest to all
Still I say he is a biggest fool
Twisted his emotions as wire
Burn himself with a blue fire
Desires running wild in a bizzare field
Still he hops on his transparent shield
"How foolish he is" Is not he???
Still he has the false hope to bind
And that's what his old man's tone saying...
Feb 6
Feb 6, 2026 at 2:40 AM UTC