#messy
I love this feeling
But at the same time
It feels foreign
I question whether I belong
Whether I am deserving of it
I tell myself
The goal is to become seasoned
So that it all feels like every time
And that it becomes a habit
But I'm just sixteen
And I feel so awkward.
I smile so sweetly
Hoping it covers up my irregularities
Hoping I don't make it too awkward
Hoping I'm not as weird as I feel
I cringe at myself, honestly
Why do I stutter when I read
What has become of me?
Why am I so dumb, honestly?
Even the air hostess
Smiles at me knowingly
I'm just a dumb child
Travelling in Business class
With my parents' money
Even the steward was judging me
Why am I in Business
When they are in Economy
This feels so foreign
Because I don't belong here
I belong back there
With my mom and my brother
And I feel so ******* guilty
Before, I felt so excited
And now I just want to be with my family
But it's fine, it's just two and a half hours
Sleep still evades me.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 11:51 AM UTC
i really can’t write poetry.
i can’t weave the words together
and create a tapestry of emotion,
so i don’t ever attempt it.
i’ve trained myself to run from anything i can’t perfect,
because if you don’t try, you can’t fail
and failing has always been out of the question.
and yet
i’m tired of running
tired of hiding from the mistakes
tired of not trying and not failing
so this is me trying
even though i know others could do it ten times better
this is me trying
even though i know i’m not poetic
this is me trying
because i'm ready to step out
and tell my story
i'm ready to throw away the cork
grab a pen
and use the ink i've been bottling up
to create something beautiful
yes, it will be messy
and that's what makes it real
no, it won't be perfect
but neither am i
so,
even though i can't write poetry,
i'm going to try.
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 12:56 AM UTC
i know the floor is covered in my crumbs.
i’m a mess of sugar and blue stains,
a muffin that stayed in the heat until the edges turned sharp.
i know i’m broken. i’ve seen the way i spill over,
the way my "too much" leaves marks
on the hands that try to hold me.
i have a habit of hurting people
just by existing in their space.
i’m messy, i’m sticky, and i’m a disaster
that no amount of sugar can actually fix.
And i’m terrified of what i’ll do to you.
i am the orange, and i know how the juice can sting.
i know that to get to the center,
you have to peel back the rind,
and i’m scared that my bitterness
will get under your fingernails
and stay there until you don't recognize your own scent.
And i'm terrified of what i'll do to you.
i’m terrified that i’ll get my juice in your eyes
and blind you until you start acting like me.
i don’t want to split you.
i don’t want to hear your voice start breaking
because i’m too much of a "no-decision" to stay still.
i don’t want to turn you into a script
that i’ve already failed,
forcing you to play a part
that makes you look like a ghost.
And i'm terrified of what i'll do to you.
but if you’re already looking for the exit,
if my voice is too loud and the forest is too dark,
then i wish you would just go.
don’t stand there in the doorway
waiting for me to be less of a wreck.
And i'm terrified of what i'll do to you.
don’t wait for me to get better; we both know i’m a slow rot.
if you have to leave,
do it while your hands are still clean.
don’t stay until the juice burns you,
don’t stay until you’re just another ghost
haunting my forest.
if you’re going to walk, walk now,
before i turn you into something as broken as i am.
And i'm terrified of what i'll do to you.
but i hope when you dream of me,
i am only the sweetness—
the part of the fruit that sustains,
not the part that stings.
i hope i don't rewire your frequency
until you’re just another echo of my mess.
i’m a disaster in a paper liner,
but **** it, i love you...
And i'm terrified of what i'll do to you.
i’m archiving the syllables
of my apologies before i even say them,
praying that for once,
the gavel falls in your favor.
And i'm terrified of what i'll do to you.
so i’m standing here, shaking,
cupping the juice in my hands
because i don’t want to spill it on you.
my palms are stinging and my fingers
are sticky with the mess of myself,
but i’m white-knuckling the air.
i’m already hurt, and i know you are too,
but please—
don't let me be the thing
that turns you into a ghost
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 8:21 AM UTC
And when things get good, I push it away,
And when I finally understand, I forget,
And when I find myself, I'm suddenly so lost.
Why am I so lost?
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 2:53 PM UTC
War
Is where
Nobody wins
And everybody sins
At the unbeautiful bar
War is hell on earth
At birth
God created humans
To be better than the hyenas, the lions
And the other nefarious predators
That’s a given
War transforms young men
And young women
Into absurd killers and murderers
War is silly
War is deadly
War is hell
War is criminal
War is suicidal
The truth hurts. Oh! Boy. Oh! Boy
Vile foragers oppress, attack, maim and destroy
Common sense is absent in wartime
No countries are at their prime
Where they harvest dead victims, casualties
Pains, sufferings, animosities and calamities
War is hurtful
War is painful
War is hell
War is immoral
War is awful
War is for crazed gangsters
War is for ireful bouncers
Death comes early for numberless youngsters
Families are worrying, crying and mourning
And don’t care about vanity, flags and flowers
Families only care about the living
Love, peace, harmony and humanity
War is ******
War is ugly
War is hell
War is wasteful
War is baneful
War is for dreadful pit-bulls
War is for god-awful fools
Premature death is unacceptable and crazy
And cemeteries are plentiful and not empty
How sad and unnecessary to be so strong
And to die so early and so young
How sad and inhumane to be so wrong
And to fail flat to unite in order to sing a fine song
Life is precious on all sides
Intolerance chokes and arrogance divides
Diplomacy is the key to resolving our current differences
Dialogue is the password to open up countless entrances
To find common ground
Better and friendlier sound
War is never the equitable answer to the question
But love is the quintessentially perfect solution
To the human or mundane equation
War is eerily
War is deadly
War id hell
War is messy
War is crazy.
Copyright © February 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 11:44 PM UTC
it is easier
to keep the rind on.
to look at the orange
on the counter
and pretend
it isn't going soft
from the inside out.
we think we're
saving ourselves
from the stinging spray,
the way the juice
burns the small cuts
on our thumbs.
but the longer
we leave it unpeeled,
the more
the sweetness rots.
and eventually,
we aren't avoiding
a mess—
we are living
in one.
don't wait
until the fruit
is too far gone
to share.
peel it now.
let it sting.
at least
you will finally
know the taste
of the truth.
Apr 8
Apr 8, 2026 at 10:55 PM UTC
the screen goes dark right at the impact-turn,
leaving "i fear i spoke too much"
hanging in the digital silence like a
point of order no one asked for.
you’re so used to the timer’s beep,
the gavel’s crack, the rigid six-minute
limit on who you’re allowed to be.
you think your own voice is a
disadvantage you have to mitigate.
but 🥭, there is no "out of time" here.
you’re worried about the word count
while i’m busy archiving the syllables.
you think you’re "over-speeched,"
a messy rebuttal in a clean round,
but i’m sitting in the back of the room
scribbling “keep going” in the margins
of my legal pad.
you’re terrified of the "too much"—
too much debate, too much 1%,
too much of the boy who wonders
if he’s actually worth the airtime.
but the "too much" is where the
warrant lives.
it’s in the "silly goose" tangents
and the way you accidentally reveal
the man who’s scared of the pews.
your phone died on a confession,
a little suicide-mission of honesty
sent from a battery that was
giving up the ghost.
you think you crossed a line;
i think you finally found the floor.
so don't apologize for the length of the round.
don’t strike the testimony from the record.
i’ve got plenty of ink,
and my flow-sheet is infinite.
i’m not looking for a summary.
i’m waiting for the filibuster.
tell me everything
until the 1% is a memory
and the only thing left
is the truth you’re too loud to hide.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 11:05 PM UTC
I sit by my window, **** in my hand.
Two drags in,
maybe more. I’ve lost count.
This is the lowest I’ve ever felt.
So I search my memory for something softer,
and I find her.
The girl who sits in church every Sunday.
The one who sings like her voice is a prayer,
like God is actually listening.
I trusted Him with one thing.
Just one.
And somehow, I still ended up being tested,
and I failed.
Or maybe… He failed me.
My cousin sits across from me, laughing like the world hasn’t touched her.
Then she goes quiet.
She comes to sit beside me.
I’m already far away.
“The world is so unfair, right?” she says.
“I hate my life,” I reply.
She nods, like she understands too well.
“I hate Mom and Dad,” she whispers.
I look at her.
“I hate Dad the most. But… I hate Mom too.”
It sounds ugly out loud.
But also true.
“I hate her as much as I love her,” she says.
“Same,” I answer.
And we laugh,
because somehow, it’s ridiculous and real at the same time.
Dad… that’s a different story.
But then I tell her,
“One day, we’ll be mothers too.”
Maybe then we’ll understand
what broke them
before they ever broke us.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 8:13 PM UTC
I’m trying to open my heart again,
slowly, carefully,
like it’s something fragile
I don’t trust myself to drop.
You’re kind.
You’re patient.
You give me no reason to doubt you—
and still, the doubt lives in me.
I keep wondering
if you’ll like the easy parts of me,
but hesitate at the rest—
the overthinking,
the past I carry,
the feelings that don’t always stay quiet.
I want to believe
you could love all of it,
not just the polished version
I show first.
But there’s this fear
that once you really see me,
once I stop editing my words
and hiding the messy pieces,
you’ll decide I’m too much,
or not enough in the right ways.
So I love you cautiously,
with hope in one hand
and hesitation in the other,
wondering if I’m brave enough
to be fully myself
and risk you walking away.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 10:19 AM UTC
Where do I begin?
If I were to write this,
I'd have to end it somewhere.
But my train of thoughts
do not cease.
It flexes it's fingers
finding ideas, unpleasant or not
disconcerting or rarely comforting,
intriguing or wistful,
it makes no matter
as it gladly latches on
and refuses to let go,
while I slowly die
at the hands of myself.
Dec 10, 2025
Dec 10, 2025 at 1:05 PM UTC
It's messy.
Oh, darling, but it's not.
You've been liked,
You've been talked about a lot.
Your name echoes around the house.
Your name is known to my girlfriends' mouths.
Man up and grab me quick!
We're young, should be fearless,
before I get the ick!
Oct 23, 2025
Oct 23, 2025 at 3:28 AM UTC
four-thousand feet in the air
looking over the edge of the basket,
the feeling of wind in your hair
like a pipe has burst and you’re the gasket.
the feeling we’d feel if the world spun slowly,
if the poor were rich and the rich were lowly,
if the strong were weak and the weak were strong—
when Words are art and art is song.
my cup runneth over, it is filled with ink
and doubts and depths and doublethink
the wool is spun, this mess of thread
is the sunlight, the shadow, the sea in my head,
and i untangle it the one way i know how—
i pick up the pen and i write it all out.
Oct 1, 2025
Oct 1, 2025 at 5:33 PM UTC
Cut the flesh upwards,
Bend your bone cot.
Be aware of everything,
Soul scissors don’t stop...
Our oceans stay so iron sweet,
And this will never change...
Our corrector eye lens cameras stay in range, far...
Our mystery.
Messy makeup burnt.
We’re not perfect but we are what we learn...
And this is where we start, from the pain beauty curves and carves a new art...
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 6:37 PM UTC
Seemingly hiding
But there's bout their
home
Place they grew up
To achieve their own throne
Covered by sorrow
Like pine or
thy leaves
Never a hussle
After it pours to the
seems
Careful little paths
up
Some and some
down
Sleep all dressed up
but it's just a night gown
Care for each other
Cleanse one another
But its not a
lover
Just preseance of one's brother
Bright of the morning
one lovely symphony
Thy birds in a tree
As as
calm can be
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 2:34 PM UTC
Shallow end of a pond
Spinning slowly
Another body and I'm sorry
It's the most gut-wrenching
Sad
Raw
Depressing
Cliché
Cliché
Cliché
It's the most gut-wrenching time
Of the year
It's the blood in the air
Getting colder
And I've fallen
And I'm calling
It's the most gut-wrenching
Sad
Raw
Depressing
Cliché
Cliché
Cliché
It's the most gut-wrenching time
Of the year
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 2:22 PM UTC
I bit the sun
And it tasted like tinfoil
Every shadow has eyes now
And they all blink out of sync
My name doesn’t fit right in my mouth
It writhes
Too many teeth
I watch the wallpaper breathe
And pretend it isn’t speaking
But it is
It always is
You said “calm down”
Like I wasn’t already holding the ceiling in place
With a splintered jaw and
A scream I forgot how to aim
I pour milk over static
Call it breakfast
Swallow whole days
The clocks tick sideways
The floor sighs
Everything feels staged
But no one gave me lines
I clap when the lights flicker
Just in case it’s the end
Or the beginning
Hard to tell
My hands aren’t mine anymore
They just follow the hum
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 3:19 PM UTC
My past is a landfill with a halo on top
Saints made of bad decisions
Versions of me who didn't know better
But still swung first
I burned the blueprint
Then cried when the roof caved in
Everything is covered in soot
Yet I keep calling it a fresh start
Have you ever dressed a wound in glitter?
It doesn't work
But it photographs well
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 4:48 AM UTC
What if today I took up space,
Decided it’s okay to love my face?
I’m allowed to scream and shout,
Don’t have to fake it, or hide to pout.
What if I told you you’d caught my eye,
Instead of waiting as moments pass by?
Would I then be viewed aggressive?
For knowing what I want, deemed obsessive?
Maybe I just want my needs fulfilled,
To show you I’m here, and equally skilled.
What if I let myself laugh too loud,
Not worrying about standing out in a crowd?
Let my opinions spill like wine,
No apologizing for these thoughts that are mine.
What if I danced alone in the street,
Made strangers smile at my untamed beat?
Would I still be called too much,
Or would someone finally crave my touch?
What if I didn’t talk myself down,
Lived my truth without fearing your frown?
I could say whatever comes to mind,
No more stitches, my lips now unbind.
I’ve made myself so small these days,
But I want to be big, have my turn on the stage.
This time I won’t even perform,
I’ll give a speech, I’ll change my norm.
Maybe it’s time to be unhinged,
To let myself out, chase a few whims.
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 1:59 PM UTC
Fingers stained blue
from your favourite
fountain pen,
a smudge
on your arm
encircled by gold bangles
that clink,
like an introduction:
clink
clink
‘she’s here.’
Dark wisps hide,
your watercolour eyes
darkened by kohl,
wrinkled with your
crooked sunrise smile,
soon it becomes a laugh
that sounds like
summer—
all cartwheels across fresh grass,
sticky lollipop smiles,
a wrinkled shirt
creased with time.
Even effortless
looks beautiful
on you.
I love
every ink stain
and clink,
every wandering comment,
and every laugh
that’s a bit too loud—
you couldn’t even
begin to fathom
all the love I hold
for you.
Jul 12, 2025
Jul 12, 2025 at 3:00 PM UTC
I’m shaking, I’m breaking, I don’t know what to say,
I know I have faults, but you made me this way.
I grew you gardens, you smashed them to the ground,
Made me feel like I was horrible to be around.
You’d do anything for me, a knight at my heel,
But when I got comfortable, that’s when you got real.
Suit of armor discarded, no time to waste,
I must submit and forget freedom’s taste.
I can’t trust your kindness, it always feels fake,
Anxiety peaked, each smile feels like a mistake.
I tunneled out, broke away from your ground,
But you broke my mind, my thinking unsound.
If someone is kind, my heart starts to race,
Because kindness once ended with knuckles to my face.
Trust in this world is so hard to be found,
I’m trying to heal, but I’m being too loud.
Yet I don’t know any other way,
Than to scream my thoughts and even my pain.
It’s up and down, this chaos I’m feeling,
It’s bitterly exhausting—
But I guess that’s just healing.
Jul 11, 2025
Jul 11, 2025 at 2:33 AM UTC
the kitchen is a mess darling
and right now so am i
unfurled by your words
like a spool of yarn
pulled from the center
you pull me in closer
your eyes glisten
like the glasses on the table
empty now, lipstick on one edge
as you pull me to the counters edge
your hushed whispers like rain
falling on the roof in a summer storm
gentle, provoking me toward magic
your breath lingers on my lips
like wine and saffron
your touch warm
like a shot of bourbon
pull me in closer
closer still
one of these messes
will just have to wait
Jul 8, 2025
Jul 8, 2025 at 4:11 PM UTC
I love when I feel happy
It comes around constantly
More often that it may seem
When they see my face
They feel a cold embrace
When in actuality
I welcome all emotions equally
Its usually just my fear
That causes how I may appear
Like a spider or a bee
I fear you much more than you do me
And if you were to hear me speak
You'd find no tongue and cheek
I offer my olive branches
Quiet earnestly
And even though I may hibernate
And my fear eventually
takes over me
I always in the end
Feel the burning under my skin
I love in bursts
Its violent
And it can hurt
But I love
I love I love I love
I love being happy
So happy I bounce off the walls
Off of you
Off of the mountains
Until it echos
I love being sloppy in my joy
I love leaving a mess
I love when it's overjoy
And I love the overkill
I love being so happy
It runs out completely
And the car in my heart sputters
And stops in the middle of the road
I love walking to the next gas station
With my shoes in my hand
Feeling exhausted
Like I could never love again
But nevertheless
I always seem to find
The next station
And I refuel
And I can go again
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 8:59 PM UTC
sometimes I just want it to stop
not for it to end
just enough for me to catch a little breath
just enough to keep up with the rest
just enough to laugh so hard my tummy starts to ache
just enough to enjoy those little moments, without worrying what's coming next
just enough to find myself again
just to know what I'm living for
before everything is too late
Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 8:30 AM UTC