#scattered
Thousands of diamonds
Watch them disappear under the ice
She skates like a goddess, her feet barely touching the ground
And he is thrown to the pavement
Into the thousands of crystals, of snow, of diamonds
Silk icicles crawl into his eyes
She is light itself, a kaleidoscope of blue and grey
He is a face on the screen
Silver
Silver
Silver
See them as
I drop
Below the scraped surface
And into itself again
As his body becomes the oneness
His tears stream across her face
And she
FALLS
Onto the frozen marbled plane
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 7:31 PM UTC
I cut tonight I will cut tonight i will see the
Blood fall off my wrists as I slash another ripped, into an
Open wound as big as my thumb this time I will
Be able to understand why people feel upset
When they are not in control because I think that
Not being able to dictate the feelings and cries inside your
Head and body might just be one of the worst
Things to ever experience in the whole whole wide
world
I need to have the ability, the option, the privilege
To know that at any moment when i feel too much
Or connect a dot that should’ve stayed broken up
I will be able to create a new idea in my head
To drown out the others out out out out out out!
They shall leave like they were never even meant to be there ever in the first place.
I I I I I I I I I I see inside my wound, I made that wound
And there are bubbles of fat that have sprouted, bubbled
Out from the LESION the deep deep F U C KI N G
Blood red destroying sharp loud LOUD cut
If I stuck my put my finger onto the LOUD loud cut
It would squish under the pressure and secrete a
Liquid that should be kept inside my body
But always seeps out the edges of my ears
I never seen the back of my neck but I always
KNOW that its there, if I turned far enough around
I might be able to see it
Thought, if I’m hanging far above, on the edge
Of a bridge or a tall tall prickly tan twisted rope
I do not miss the time when my skin was kept
Together by the skin of its teeth if I bit into my arm
How hard until I break into blood banks for it
How how how how how much have I sinned
If others are normal unLIKE me, have they ever
Thought of tearing into their skin one ssunday night
Because they knew they couldn’t make it through
mmonday if they weren't hurt and bleeding out all day?
Should I answer the questionnaire honestly?
How many times have I c c c c c c c cut?
In the past year, or twelve months, to be exact?
Zero, that's ideal,
one, that's no fun,
two, so, have you?
Three, wish that could be me,
four, not high enough
To score, five, a time to strive,
six or MORE, forever on, I've known I've done it
still I answer the big none, the big O O, Zero
I can’t even count on all my fingers and
all my toes how many times I’ve picked up the it
There are less scars on my body
Than times that I’ve cut, cut, I've cut, cut…cut
I know everybody wants to get me, they’re out, out
They have all given me looks on, on, my wrists
They all all think that they wont ever fall, stoop, to my
Deep dark dead dying destructive dragging level
But in the end its all up to fate and angels up above
To decide who out there will find a sharp object
And learn to know its name, better than their own
Apr 19
Apr 19, 2026 at 6:27 PM UTC
i started folding pages of books
i never thought i'd pick up
vomiting less words of what's scattered
in my head
this familiar yet
unfamiliar feeling
i am me, but i am not me
it's uncanny.
Oct 28, 2025
Oct 28, 2025 at 9:55 AM UTC
What you’re taught is what you know.
Even in the rot things still can grow.
I’ve cursed each name a hundred times
while walking on bridges and under power lines.
What something is
isn’t simply what it means.
The embers barely fizz,
but the light still beams.
I can spot the forest from the trees,
and find myself under a starry starry night.
I can feel the cool mountain breeze,
and still discover something that isn’t quite right.
Am I just cursed, to always make things seem worse?
If far from the path you find yourself,
don’t let it ever get to your mood.
Trust your instincts for some help,
because it’s not the path that’s moved.
What something is
isn’t simply what it means.
The meaning you could miss,
just like the symbols of your dreams.
I can determine the sea from the shore,
and I can sleep under the full moon.
Still I have the gull to ask for more,
even if it seems far too soon.
Am I just cursed, to bury myself after I’ve bought my own hearse?
What something is
isn’t simply what it means.
Dread could end up bliss,
and Hell could be clean.
Wet wood does no one any good,
doesn’t work as it should;
I think I’d rather have gold
A potato sack thrown over your back
they only cut you some slack
because you ate them before they grew mold.
I start my life in media res,
hand to my ear to block out the noise.
I need not live by what another says,
I couldn’t even hear them, so I have no choice.
Am I just cursed,
to live my life in reverse?
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 10:44 AM UTC
he grew
in the shadow’s cradle
where light was a stranger
and silence spoke in thunder.
among the red flames,
he stood
a dark flame itself,
unyielding,
sharp as obsidian.
not softer,
not less
but forged
from the stillness
between storms.
his roots drank from broken earth,
his veins held stories
etched in crimson glass,
fractured but gleaming
a quiet war
etched beneath his skin.
they called him wild,
a thorn without a rose,
but he was more
a sentinel of shadows,
a keeper of scars,
a guardian of unseen battles.
he bled without sound,
he bore his fractures
like medals of fire
each shard a testament
to survival,
each wound a map
of the battles he won
without surrender.
he did not seek to belong,
only to endure,
to thrive
where others would break,
to bloom
like the black thorn
that thrives
in the night’s embrace.
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 6:43 PM UTC
she bloomed
in the hush of night
where the sun dared not reach
and the wind whispered secrets
no red petal could keep.
they called her strange
a shadow among flame—
but she stood, velvet and midnight,
thriving
where silence kissed her roots.
among the red,
she did not wilt—
she shimmered.
not in gold,
but in obsidian grace
wrapped in the perfume of grief
and galaxies.
she was not less.
only different.
a hymn of thorns,
a waltz of ache.
the roses around her
spoke in bright laughter
but she sang
in echoes—
in lullabies
dripping from glass edges
still stained
with the stories of those
who held her too tightly.
there was beauty
in her breaks—
shattered, yes,
but glinting with stardust
and crimson.
she had bled
where no one could see
and still
she stood.
not because she was untouched
but because she was unclaimed
by ruin.
she was not born to belong—
she was born
to remind the world
that even darkness
blooms.
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 6:44 PM UTC
It's broken, scattered in pieces, in shreds.
What was immoveable, now is crumbled.
It morphed from spool into puny threads
And got so futile and so unrequired.
All is gone, both faith, and repentance.
And what is now, no meaning, no goal.
No one needs excuses or blaming.
Neither of those who needed are gone.
All is trampled down, mixed up.
All is stupidly wasted in whole.
And only one mediocre Zero
Is stayed with no shame at all.
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 4:07 PM UTC
An
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r s s r
i e You'Re
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Jan 17, 2025
Jan 17, 2025 at 1:38 PM UTC
Do you know what I find funny?
My room never fails to mirror my psychological state of being.
Like right now.
I’m currently sitting amongst my disheveled sheets and scattered laundry.
But I’m also desperately searching for my bonnet within the chaos.
And just like with my bonnet,
I can’t quite pinpoint what my thoughts are centered upon.
My bonnet could be anywhere,
Though my room is only so large.
And my thoughts could be anywhere,
Though I can’t imagine having much to think about.
Do you know what I find even funnier?
If I were to clean my room,
Right now,
I would probably find my bonnet.
I would most likely discover it under my pillowcase or behind my bed frame;
Perhaps on top of my desk or in my dresser.
But I refuse.
I mean where would I start,
And how long would it actually take me?
Yeah, I’m good.
I’m used to sitting in my clutter anyway.
Jun 26, 2022
Jun 26, 2022 at 5:01 PM UTC
Raindrops, but rainbows rise
Nothing seems to be alright
Sounds of crying
As you close your eyes
Why is everyone lying?
Isn't it surprising how everyone is shy
My mind is racing
Can't stop it raining
My teacher explaining
My brain in another dimension
I'm not thinking straight
I use to love this surrounding
Now it's everything I hate
Got anything to add to my vision?
It'll be hazy anyway
By:Zoulaikha
May 30, 2022
May 30, 2022 at 11:40 AM UTC
_I want to fall into myself - to leave should’s, must’s,
and need to be’s scattered inconsequentially in my wake.
I want to dive deeply - to loosen my shoulders,
relax my arms, and slacken my griping fingers.
I want to uncoil my imagination - to revel in a crystal night sky,
a cool breeze, and a pink moon rising.
I want to meet the nomad - solitary, suspended in a sky-borne
playa, and blazing a trail to infinity._
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 6:06 PM UTC
two (or is it three...?) weeks in to the
overnight shift and never have i wanted
to wash myself in
the golden rays of that nearest star
our sun more than i do now as the ineradicable
cloak of night stretches
itself over these my newly waking hours. this night
i feel massive but
diffuse, like the ghost of a
glacier lingering amongst the scablands; nebulous
and immense,
like a short-circuited god-machine
cannibalizing itself in a forgotten
corner of the universe. the sleep is broken, the
mind needs rest. the mind needs
rest.
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 4:01 AM UTC
Assignment after assignment
10, no 12, for math
2 lessons for English
2 movies and a sheet of questions for each for journalism
1 weekly question and 1 lesson for biology
A lesson and questions about textbook pages for Spanish
A workout log for P.E.
1 nonfiction piece and 10-15 poems for creative writing
All due when?
By the end of the week for math
By the end of the week for English
By the end of the week for journalism
By the end of the week for biology
By the end of the week for Spanish
By yesterday for the nonfiction piece for Creative Writing
And who knows when for those poems for Creative writing
Get the grades up
Get the grades up
No matter what the cost
No matter what the pain
And get the chores done
At least 4 a day
Write down everything you do along the line
Timecards, what's next?
Shower, time it just right
Work around the other people
Don't mess around
Waste away
Obey
Get the grades up
Get the grades up
No matter what
Don't be dreamy and strut
Smack you to the ground
Get down from the clouds
Back to reality
Straight As only
Nothing less
Everything more
Or who knows what's going out the door
Maybe something you love
Maybe your sanity
Get the grades up
Keep your head up
Don't slip up
Keep your head up
Smile on, smiles on!
Don't argue, they always win
It creeps beneath your skin
Make it stay there
Bite your tongue
Until it bleeds
No matter what the cost
Remember?
It's all in your head, of course,
Besides the grades,
THOSE ARE REAL
There's no making a deal
Get the grades up
Get the grades up
Straight As and nothing less
Nothing left either, until you're a horrid mess
Just Scattered.
- Jay M
May 6th, 2020
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 10:36 PM UTC
Running to and fro
Can't let the stress go
Assignments piled up
Due so soon
All loom over me
My impending doom
Spanish, P.E., Creative Writing,
Journalism, English, Biology
And Finally; Math
These grades I'm fighting
I can't get it done chronologically
Can't stick to one path
Scattered mind
Struggling to find
The answers I seek.
Tell me, how do I survive?
How do I thrive,
In a world where I am behind?
Working to hard,
Keeping it fresh in my mind
Making a flashcard
To help me find
What I left behind
A week and a half ago
Right out the window
Now I need to go back
Through the window
For the information I lack.
- Jay M
January 8th, 2020
Jan 8, 2020
Jan 8, 2020 at 5:51 PM UTC
What’s happened! A voice remarked. Why are my puzzle pieces scattered in a wasteland? Another voice spoke up, sounding distant. That’s what I’d like to know! Then more followed. Sounding like a choir of different voices were in effect. Except none of the voices sounded cheery in their perfect chorus on cue. A shriek followed. A wasteland full of shrieks rumbled the ground. Ejecting lots of dust. Blinding visibility across a wide landscape! A landscape full of sand. Governing a deadly waste scouring a dryness accumulating pieces of voices not to far off from one another. Dust from the shrieks rumbling the ground, finally clear. Settling a glimpse at what has been shrieking with such volumes of obscure reasoning. Puzzle…PIECES! Huh? Who said that…? The voice asked, completely taken off guard. What instrument are we trying to provide here? Not sure I’m exactly wondering what your trying to offer by the term (instrument)? Having instruments aren’t folly you know. Another voice interrupting the other voices conversing nonsense. You guys do realize non of what your saying is making any practical sense? Like…at ALL! Huh? One voice replied. Another joining in. Well if your so clever…why don’t you entertain us with how things should really be voiced? Gladly! The more logical voice commented. The voice acting snobbish made a sound. Showcasing it didn’t like being told what it knew and what it didn’t know. The dust has settled. The two voices conversing said on cue. Your point…? No logic, until you display your horizons onto the landscape which shows what we are. One voice replied confused. Logic? Another responded. Horizons? Then on cue again. Landscape??!! The logical voice continued. Just looking around the landscape, which introduces the horizon of who, what, and where you are. Making the logical assessment that, well…everything…is what should have been since the very beginning. Panting for just a single moment. Without claim or focus…the end! The two conversing voices completely dumbfounded, sighed very harshly! Finally deciding to take the more logical one’s words more seriously. Other voices following on cue. Which made all voices look down toward there surroundings. The logical one smiled brightly! AHHH! Another shriek came. O…JEEESSSUUUSSS!!! More shrieks accumulated the wasteland. Prompting more dust to rumble. Popping all over the horizon’s visibility again! So, what did we learn about this very confusing, obscuring display? Well…easy! A voice said from no where. That it was a display of nurturing. Huh…? Really? The one sounding like the narrator drawn in by the voices interest. Ya, well… They stopped to rethink what they just offered in response. Your hesitating. The narrator’s voice sounding suspicious. Ya, well… Not sure how to express what I saw. Still remaining suspicious, the narrator continued. Anda…what is it…you exactly…saw…? The voice from no where exploded all built up energy in one gigantic spurt! There was puzzle pieces scattered in a wasteland! They had no identity to speak of. Pieces deconstructed in a sand covered landscape full of dry essence. And…and… They stopped mid-thought to catch their breath! The narrator didn’t speak a word. The dust was symbolizing ones missing grasp at not figuring out they were all apart of the same form. The same essence. Drying out claims too full of themselves through partial reasoning on potential agreements never going anywhere. Mmmmm…mhm…mmmmm… The narrator seemingly amused by this information. No identity, means no way of connecting to one another. Never to make sense of the premise one could offer. Puzzle pieces stuck in the sands of dry essence. A rut too involved to be just any coincidence. The dry essence covering up each puzzle piece. Muffling there voices forever. They tried to reach out. Trying to make sense of (what could have been). Rather then how to assort their differences into one claim. Working together wasn’t this identities strongpoint. Pieces were arguing too much. Until one seemed to be the most offering of the bunch. Thou…thou… Go on. The narrator said. No one listened to them. Following in the footsteps of one foolish puzzle piece after the other. Until there was nothing to be left, but silence. The voice from no where shrieked towards the narrator’s glaring tension toward the speaker. Laughing in disgust toward the potential risk one poses when reaching out toward its other component pieces.
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 11:01 PM UTC
I'm thinking about you right now because I couldn't possibly think about anything else.
I'm in a black and white movie and I can hear all the clashing going on behind the scenes
There's loud chords that feel like they are being plucked on my heartstrings because I can see the vibrations moving all the way through me,
through the insulation of my army green jacket that you gave me in the summer.
And it's ridiculous to me how this little fly on the table has no idea what's going on, isn't a part of anything I'm experiencing.
Black and white movie with cold orange lights.
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 12:39 AM UTC
At times I wake up
Thinking why the hell did god let me see another day?
I barely pray.
Barely say “dear lord thank you, for blessing me”
Guess I have a purpose
28 years layin down feeling so worthless
Nobody’s perfect
I lashed out at everyone because inside I was hurtin.
Feelin so deserted - needing self glory.
Wondering every **** day
When I die, what was my story?
Was I gift? Sent here to help spread change?
Was I a monster? Sent here to help spread pain.
Maybe I was a non factor and just fell back
Maybe I touched a few hearts...while sadly remaining detached
I don’t kno what it is, nor can I ****** give anymore effort
This world is tough and everyday we all tryna to gain new leverage
I stop to see
What it was that was always in front of me
The open sea.
With endless possibilities…
I see my siblings and watch them go out and fulfill their dreams
I see my friends - growing up and accomplishing all they were meant to be
I see my mother - who pushes on when life gets heavy
I see my soul - who is uncertain yet, claims to remain ready.
But that’s life - it’ll always remain unsteady.
It’ll gas you up, lie to you and even act semi petty.
80 percent is how you react, while 20 percent is what you let in
I’ve let it all come into me - some would call me reactive.
Not many people enjoy you - this trait is not attractive.
Yet, I’m combative - for I am, the way I am and that’s that kid.
I’ve changed so much that I could’ve gotten into fashion
I feel I need a cause for the reason that I am who I am and I’m so tired of askin
God and I just don’t see eye to eye and he no longer understand why I need to cry
When I work out with my demons- thinking that I got stronger
Is it excuse that I wanna die young? Or can I not take it any longer?
Idk, don’t ask such personal questions until you walk a mile in they shoes
Don’t count your wins before your blessing or your destined to lose
Don’t say a rich man means having green in the money holdin machine...
To me success comes from the genuine love within a human being
Or does it.
I’m just tryna stay balanced on this uneven scale
Will I prevail or will I fail?
The clique so you chose the path you’d like to trail
You make the decisions that benefit
Even if they barely fit
Some sweat writing this ****
I’m nervous I’m losing hold and can’t get a grip
While sayin metaphors out these lips
Imma end this small poem here
Just tryna say don’t waste time on what don’t matter
You never know if you’ll see another year
Text someone you love - thank a stranger for holdin the door - tell the broken winged child they can fly and allow your heart to finally soar
Make peace with your demons - try your best to chase your dreams - to make change isn’t always visible - but the act of kindness & love will never remain unseen.
Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 2:36 PM UTC
the strangeness that is realized when the words,
scattered and smattered, hardly useful enough to
com-paste/post a poem together, scrabbled letters
on a dining room table, ripe with possibilities,
ripe with the stink of inutility, for the
industrial-military complex of
mind-eye-tongue refuse to work together,
the letters, yes, scattered and smattered,
come on a regularly irregularly schedule,
not put together...
why should I write of this?
write of this of now?
my man-ifesto of inspirations loved and lost,
poems that arrive while I drive unable to record them,
for days now, a poem lay inert in my brain but just on the tip of
my rounded, tongue, the title knew me, knew it was mine to write,
but the man/poem coming together in mystical simultaneousness,
was nope, not conceivable,
thus be advised somewhere in my body decaying
lies a decaying poem.
the title is
**The ***** Dimples and Dents Upon My Body.**
Perhaps this is that poem; but I suspect not.
This one was written in five minutes in one sitting, a run-on,
run-though
out of control.
so easy to write when out of control!
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 2:58 PM UTC
Your poison seeps into my veins
Crashing in like hurricanes
Every bone numbs and shakes
By the sound of your name
When you see my face in scattered rains
You end those hurricanes
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 7:12 PM UTC
Hope the sound of crickets
resting near your head
won’t wake up the bed
or want it?
just to tell you
now looking for a name
to call the day
that went the distance of three
I felt I did
I felt I slept
and shined through
and walked right at
I lost my breath
subtle hurts underneath
around my head
and heartily heartened
found a friend in friends
so talking their strange lingos
made me see the closeness
in the foreign truth
that carries
the
travelers
through
on-times so unusual
coincidental timing
and all the gones
how me, my zones
being alone
so moving, so home
near others
sleepwalking lovers
nervous panics
wordy freaks
one sided
broken line
still don't know today
the name
of ********* scattered
day
thus this scattered fragments,
my scatterline,
I just want to whisper
to your resting mind
while still smelling you
on structures of my skin,
sound tenderly
the creaks of crickets!
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 6:26 AM UTC
and the only thing
that was left over
after the storm had
torn us apart
were the pieces
of my scattered heart
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
I'm losing control
I'm letting it all go
It's slipping through
My fingers now
Everything I believe
There's just too much to hold
My burdens feel so heavy
I'm just not strong enough
I'm too weak to hold on any longer
You told me I could do it all
So I did, but you were wrong
Now my faith is scattered
And I don't know how
To pick up all these pieces
I haven't let go
I don't want to
But I can't hold on alone
Everything is already slipping
Spinning out of control
And I need
CONTROL
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 5:02 PM UTC
Tossed around
Torn apart
Broken away
Pieces caught drifting in the wind
Scattered among the ruins of a fiery path
c.m.l.
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 6:14 PM UTC