#quiethope
Digital reflections; screening emotions —
cold stares recording dreams,
to an overbooked memory card.
I have a strong drive today, the morning
feels like a terabyte — but when fear
arrives with its sharp teeth, preparation
waits for that terror bite.
Still, somewhere in the system
a soft glitch appears — a file you
forgot you saved. A small light
buffering through the static.
Even machines sometimes
leak a little hope.
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 11:51 PM UTC
Listening to the choir,
watching you sing,
a lost smile returns,
how it once moved me
when our lights first met.
Gravity in your eyes
shining with allusion,
staring into the abyss
at the undressed truth
of a forgiving heart.
Whispering your stillness
to make me forget
the guilt held in flames,
doing what you can
to know how to mend.
A warm breeze stroking,
frail wings spreading;
a quiet promise at night—
even doubts learn to pause,
gazing at shooting stars.
Jan 27
Jan 27, 2026 at 12:13 PM UTC
A weeping man still sways from side to side...
paying for a borrowed smile, hoping it makes
change for something close to beauty.
Truly balance feels expensive these days,
and I keep losing it in small ways.
A full bottle waits by my bed; to only wet
my tongue— I’ve been running too hard
in my sleep, chasing dreams that never
learned how to let me rest.
Somewhere, we skipped a thousand years
of youth; time didn’t notice—_it rarely does._
I hold tighter now, hands shaking but honest,
to the few things that still feel real—and take
one steady step into what’s next.
Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 3:34 PM UTC
Am I here right now, with my head still in the clouds
and my heart learning to lift from the ground?
My tears make no sound, they fall unheard—
but they are proof I’m still alive in the quiet.
Sometimes I feel like a noun, existing in a moment,
right here, right now, while time hangs back, waiting
for me to catch up. And if I could feel my conscience,
I wonder what shape it would take. Maybe it never
left, or maybe it just got tired of yelling.
So I stand between past years, bruised but breathing,
carrying what hurt and leaving what hollowed me out.
I don’t need to be whole yet— just moving, just enough
light to say, _"Hello, January;"_ the ground is no longer
my ceiling; not to arrive early, just to keep on walking.
Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 11:38 AM UTC
...
Of despair,
the verge upon
I sung the dirge
Through tears it swelled -
a painful curse
Why vie for things
that cannot be?
But this lament
was a fallacy
The cacophony softens,
and I recall -
"La musique adoucit
les pleurs"
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 5:41 AM UTC