#present
I can't count the number of times we must die
to wake up in places full of forgotten people.
Being part of them,
keeping all intimate thoughts inside,
talking to walls, and
listening to the wind.
To have the right to be happy this time
and not repeat the past again.
1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 1:08 PM UTC
if I owned the perfect photographic portrait
it would only make me reminisce
-thus losing out on the present moment
and all the beauty she brings.
1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 9:59 AM UTC
Age one: you have spent one year on this earth
But your death too was marked on the day of your birth
Age two: you have learned a few gibberish words
But only from there will you learn to stop blabbering like gossiping birds
Age three : your parents sent you early to school
But back then you were genuinely so cool
Age four: you made a party full of friends
But you didn't know that that friendship usually ends
Age five: you were chatty and happy
And so endlessly sappy,
You talked enough to fill files
And gave strangers cute smiles
Age six: you put a pencil on paper
And drew random things you stuck on wallpaper
Age seven: you started drawing people
But never the ones so feeble
Just the happy kind
The ones in a fairytale you'd find
Age eight: you grew lonely,
And thought "buying" a sister would make things friendly
Age nine: you perfected the" perfect daughter"
But it was just a way for people to say
" we finally got her"
Age ten: you said to yourself
I am the best version of myself
You saw the best in everything
And ignored the possible fighting
Age eleven: you used up your final peace. And piece
The volume inconspicuously turned down. And next year you'll begin to drown
Age twelve: look at your smile as you blow out your candle
So unprepared for what your mind will soon make you handle
Age thirteen: you dropped the pencil and turned to words to hide
And you wore a mask in which you will always abide
Age fourteen: you lost your friends and
You saw the worst in everything and you had cry-athons every week maybe every night and you hoped and you his some more and you hated and hated yourself above all you hated your body you hated your soul your heart your everything you saw the worst in everything you shut yourself out you became mute and the worst part? No one knew.
Age fifteen: Still the same. Only, worse, worse, worse worse words.
1d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 7:32 PM UTC
There are cuts
straight and diagonal
all over my skin
Feels like I let my thoughts win
and broke all my promises
to my younger me
And maybe I did
Maybe I'm weak
Maybe I secretly care what everyone thinks
oh
Don't you know I'm sad inside?
Don't you know I'm satisfied
with when I bleed,
with when I bleed?
oh
Don't you know I love it
when my emotional pain shows up
all over my skin,
all over my skin?
never thought we'd be this way.
What the hell happened?
Why we cut ourself open?
I thought that we'd be happy,
we knew things wouldn't be easy,
but seriously?
You made me a promise
that we would be better
Why do you keep breaking it?
Why'd you lie to me?
We used to skip around the playground,
we used to shriek with laughter.
Don't tell me this is your version of
better.
Maybe we are weak,
maybe we secretly do care what everyone thinks.
oh
Don't you know I'm sad inside?
Don't you know I'm satisfied
with when I bleed,
with when I bleed?
oh
Don't you know I love it
when my emotional pain shows up
all over my skin,
all over my skin?
no,
you don't understand!
You don't know what they did to us.
You haven't lived the pain yet,
don't act all disappointed!
You would do the same.
It's not really our fault, kid
They made us like this.
They told us our feelings were valid
only to punish us.
They stuffed us in a box,
we weren't allowed to punch pillows anymore.
They told us to stuff it inside.
They said we were letting satan in,
so we learned to prove them right.
We gave them something to yell about,
something real,
something big.
And then we got tricked,
and our brain got twisted up,
we don't think the same way.
I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry
I couldn't
save
us.
oh
Don't you know I'm sad inside?
Don't you know I'm satisfied
with when I bleed,
with when I bleed?
oh
Don't you know I love it
when my emotional pain shows up
all over my skin,
all over my skin?
Stop with the excuses.
What happened to
'I never break my promises'?
Is that only for other people
Did you hate us so much that you didn't care,
or are you trying to say you gave up?
What happened to
'we got this'?
What happened to
'everything will be alright'?
What happened to the nights that we would cry
and you would say,
'When we're older, things will be okay'?
Couldn't you keep up?
Is that why we always say
'i miss...',
but never finish the sentence?
Is it the younger us you miss?
Is it the time when we weren't like this?
oh
Don't you know I'm sad inside?
Don't you know I'm satisfied
with when I bleed,
with when I bleed?
oh
Don't you know I love it
when my emotional pain shows up
all over my skin,
all over my skin?
Yes, you're right,
I miss smiling in the dead of night.
Imagining this bright future,
where we were considered cool.
And we had tons of friends,
and everyone liked us,
and we had amazing parents.
But you have to understand,
we aren't gonna change
until our environment does.
We'll never be the same,
but we can get better.
And I'll make a promise right here,
we will get away,
and have an awesome life.
And maybe our scars will never fully heal,
but I promise we're gonna get help.
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 12:15 PM UTC
I remember when I was young... so many talks start with this one Relieving all of our glory days before the memories begin to fade You can still see the spark in his eyes that inner flame that hasn't died When he looks at his own reflection he doesn't see an elderly person He sees the man who loved his life beautiful children, beautiful wife He had married his one true love making love till the sun came up Watching his grown sons graduate as if it were only just yesterday As he smiles at the face he sees and he believes he is only twenty -three
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 3:48 PM UTC
i get enough of the understanding
for how much i can go without carrying anything related to my past
the realization of how would my future imitate the present?
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 11:04 AM UTC
like the crashing waves that i couldn’t stop
and the loosing sand castle that i couldn’t hold
the haunting past
and everything that could happen
the painfully perfect couple
and dreams that were broken
and I never did You wrong
I did all the way You wanted
and right there You answered
‘this was not your first time’
‘let go’
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 8:34 AM UTC
We speak of time as if it is a thread,
a single, silk-spun line from birth to bed.
And those who dream of turning back the year
creep softly, tread with mercy, clutch at fear.
A loosed breath, a footprint left in clay---
and the whole world tilts a different way.
They whisper, “Do not crush that blade of grass,
or empires crumble. Let that moment pass.”
The butterfly, they’ve learned, can break the sky---
a wing’s faint pulse, and centuries can die.
But here, in standing now, the same ones laugh.
A coffee cup left on the morning path,
a word unsent, a stranger’s hand not held---
“What difference?” they shrug. “The world is held”
by other hands, by engines large and loud,
not by a whisper in a restless crowd.
How strange---this split-eyed creature, man, who fears
a past he might unmake with falling tears,
yet walks his future as a careless guest,
believing nothing small can pass the test.
As if tomorrow’s air is made of stone,
and yesterday’s, of marrow, blood, and bone.
But what if both are woven from the same---
the dropped key, the untraced name,
the moment’s flick, the almost-chosen turn?
And what we do not break, we still may burn.
So tell me then: why kneel before the ghost
of a crushed leaf, when what you love the most---
the child, the tree, the city yet to rise---
waits on the small things you now vaporize
with your disbelief? The future is not vast.
It is this breath, this hand. And it can crack as fast.
May 12
May 12, 2026 at 4:20 PM UTC
This compulsion of wanting to maintain order
When done with one thing, let’s chase another
This sense of productive industriousness
Always chasing order
Some sort of completion… chasing clean lines
Yet itself feels like ripples and bumps one after another
All this movement, breathlessness, exhaustion
To reach some fictional silence, a surreal moment
Only by killing each prevailing moment
Every chance to breathe or pause
By chasing,
The dream of another…
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 5:45 PM UTC
I hate thinking about whether you miss me
Because I know you don't
You're busy, busy, busy
And I'm just a passing thought
A distant memory
Of how it all used to be
I'm not your present
And not your future
Just someone designated to history
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 6:25 AM UTC
You lived your life in sadness
believing to be trapped in a prison.
Clinging to imaginary madness,
mistaking hallucinations for a vision.
It didn’t seem so great in that haze
you realize then, it was better when
you were back in the old days.
Can I find a sliver of hope?I don’t know.
It’s quite a slippery slope to put on a show,
and I know that the climb can seem so slow.
But at the top there’s fertile soil ready to grow.
It didn’t seem a place for a flag to raise
but it could be better then, all the days when
you were back in the old days.
Now you realize the lights were on
when you thought you were in the dark.
But that time is long gone,
you should’ve noticed the smallest spark.
You’ve lived your life in depression
waiting for the future to start,
avoiding any passion or obsession
convinced that either would break your heart.
It doesn’t seem so great but it was a phase,
but now it’s nicer than, what you remember when
you were back in the old days.
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 1:54 PM UTC
how could you explain
when all your explaining
all your understanding
could only truly be expressed
when alone with words.
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 7:17 AM UTC
If I am to be forgotten while my feet still touch this earth
It doesn't really matter anymore I know now what the time was worth.
If I am to be erased, a fading memory to someone who's evolved
May my essence have left a mark, even in the form of something small.
If I am to be of folklore a legend you once told,
May I be the reason you brew cinnamon and honey tea on nights you find yourself cold.
If I am to be a melody you whistle but do not sing,
Maybe I'll be the reason you subtly enjoy the chaos life brings.
If I am to be a relic lost to new connections made,
I hope I taught some lesson and those relationships are stronger than we became.
Apr 12
Apr 12, 2026 at 6:07 PM UTC
Some days
I am angry
Some days
I am hurting
And if I am lucky
Some days
I am okay
But every day
Has you in them
Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 10:01 AM UTC
I'm just a victim
Of the human condition
A character study sitcom
To find my position
Infinite stars to wish on
But the one you wish on is gone
No survival when the count is one billion
Find me after one trillion
©2026
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 6:51 PM UTC
-----------------------
18:29, dark outside
Hell of a day in lotsa places,
evil live all day long, all my child's life,
she was born just before the white Bronco
-------pret-t tedious tip to point to, see from
when consumer appetite rises to salute
for common sense,
stead-cam climb out of Sycamore Canyon,
----pretend assisted intelligence conceptualizes
conscious touch typing skills drilled during ever,
its natural almost Lamarckian collective conscience
per facile, fascia spiderkite silk collected cobwebs,
sticky trick I picked up from a cousin named Bonnie,
whose environs I shared, but they were poor, and
we had a fig tree, and we watered that tree,
from an automatic washing machine, and I
picked it, that one year we had that tree.
Me and Marie, my demented older sister, we
maybe the first public demons loosed unsuspected
wise as any serpentine leveling force in life, to this
point,
poetry trying truly to be food for thought, to this
end
tuned concentrated statistical evidence into cash,
if you believe in 500 tons of our refined *******
if you believe the exceptional sensitivity Paris H
felt deep in her heart,
honey, knowitnow, Y be
cause we love this idea, truth itself lives
in me, in the spirit of agreement, Sgt. J.A. Whykill
who swore to me he was not lying, he was s'posta
marry her, and I was s'post't'witness, say amen,
we agreed we consider the scenario, in ever, if-
when we take a chance, and think all day, alone,
and aware of many dying from some mad pride,
alone, contentions only come from angry pride,
old time religion,
regulation spirit mysteriosis, outside
kid from the farside called me mister,
interrupted my hermit's fantasy, may I live
in interesting times, amen, and so it is, I dare say.
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 10:10 PM UTC
It would be unfair for my younger self
to sit beside me
and hear her frantically about the days to come,
of what's ahead of her with those scintillating eyes out of excitement
and to have a life in her own hands.
So it pains me of how shameful it is
to be beside her,
to listen calmly with a phony smile
when all I had at this time,
are broken pieces of her.
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 9:50 AM UTC
i’ve never lived in the present.
i’m too busy dwelling on the past;
and fearing for the future.
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 2:06 PM UTC
I had breakfast with my inspiration yesterday. She skipped into the coffee shop, confused about the smell of caffeine. Neither of us order a cup of coffee. She tightens the strings on her shorts she stole from her brother's old clothes, and looks at me, complimenting me on my recently cut hair, a twisted tooth in her smile. She talks, a lot. And doesn't apologize when every other word gets stuck in her throat. She asks me if I can do a cartwheel yet, I make sure to cover my braces on my joints. She asks me if we became a hair dresser, I show her my speeches and drawings instead. She asks me if we marry that boy we kissed in primary, she doesn't know she will fall for a girl in softball a few years later. She won't date her though, too scared to admit her feelings. She asks me if dad still throws things at us, I just bite my lip.
I had lunch with my reason to push myself yesterday. They walked into the coffee shop, scrunching their face at the smell of coffee. They order a cup, I do not. They pull down the sleeves of their hoodie that they stole from their older brother's closet. They don't smile often, and when they do? Their lips are pursed together. They try to slow down their speech, anxious I'll tease them for something they resented about themselves. They ask if I am still confused, I just furrow my eyebrows, we were never lost in the first place. They ask if it stops hurting, I ask if you can feel good without feeling bad. They ask if we are still friends with the people we met online, I show them our group chat with our closet friends. They ask if dad still screams at us, I just take a sip of my water.
I had dinner with my advocate yesterday. He limped into the coffee shop, crutches around his forearms, surprised at the smell of coffee. Neither of us order a cup. He wore a suit, freshly tailored to his body. He smiles brightly, a crooked tooth peaking out from his lips. He speaks in a lower more confident voice, still tripping over his words, but paying no mind to the fact. He asks me if I know God yet, I just advert my eyes. I ask him if he's gotten better friends, he laughs and says the best. He asks me if I've finished writing that book yet, my eyes light up. I ask if dad still threatens us, he just shakes his head, a key to his house on his lanyard sparkling under the artificial lighting.
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 9:00 PM UTC
Yesterday has past, tomorrow is a thought yet to come, today is the now that we live in.
Live every second as when they pass,
they are no longer changeable.
Only now is the reality that hold the future.
For every thought,reflection, is momentary.
Live it. As when it's over you can't change it.
And tomorrow you'll regret what you never did
The day before as it's a memory of what ifs.
To the future live,respect, remember..
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 5:38 PM UTC
Just a step away
But also leaps between
In just a night's thought
Or a morning's haste
We are found far away
Taken from where we used to be
Have we done this?
Or was it done to us?
We grew in it or raised it
The shapes of future
The hopes and dreams
Mixed into a sacrifice
Was it meant to be
Or were the pieces brought together
By our own faults and makeshift batches
The globe seems brighter
But it has a grey hue
Of what it used to be
Not sure wether the colours were brighter before
Not something worth remembering
But always finding it here and there
The hues of the past
The sunrise seems brighter here
Even with the clouds from the night
Are there hidden stars there?
As if we are always waiting for them to shine back to us
But it's only a moment's glimpse
From a previous night
Not meant to be today
I go back and thrown in the present again
A present I created
I'm thrown back and forward
Wanting both the same
I go to the past it's too much
And the future is too little
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 1:44 AM UTC
Memories
are Precious
but the
Present
Holds All
Our Time
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 5:29 AM UTC
We are far, yet gone
High but dry
Lived but tired
Loved but blind
Here but not -
Freed but got
Fed on rot and backdrop slop…
They’re playing games with versions of us
But you - you are certain…
That beaming bluebell lily from time’s rain-soaked golden garden -
They cannot hold you, no matter how hard they try -
They’re the baby in your eye…
Unconditionally forgiven as they die…
Forget the present -
We belong here in this world where no one has to hide -
This world called the future,
And heaven breathing… does it shine…
Jan 11
Jan 11, 2026 at 8:42 AM UTC
I carry old things
like pressed lilies.
They no longer bloom,
yet they remember my name.
This morning,
I planted daisies
in my garden.
They bloom well,
as I lean close and tell them my name.
Because loving the new
is not a betrayal of the old.
It just means
my heart learned
to walk forward
carrying the soil
it once grew from.
Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 8:24 AM UTC