#still
hunched over a momentary dream
reality demands a return
painful as painful can be
a reminder your not dead yet.
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 8:59 AM UTC
my homeland is just a gray sky
with you standing on the glass floor
of the Space Needle and smiling
and i can't and i never will figure out
why i miss you
yet i shed my secret tears
for us, still
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 5:42 PM UTC
to v.r.
i loved you once
when i met you in the back of science
and that first day
we carved our names next to each other
with a screwdriver on the table
it was like this:
breathe and i might break this impossible illusion
of you
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 6:53 PM UTC
now i have boxed up
all our shared craft supplies
to mail to your house six doors down
keep it all inside and taped up
and stitched shut and please,
please make sure the edges aren't crumpling
and folding under your ungentle hands,
please hold it all together
so she can't see your tears pooling
in your heart when you give back the books
you'd forgotten about on the back of your shelf
the picture of dorian gray, chapter eleven bookmarked
crooked kingdom and a treachery of swans
you choose your best cardboard box
of your small collection
to give everything back
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 6:49 PM UTC
I know you somehow
by the cadence of the wind
and the shape it makes around you
and how is it that you may
recognize the shape of me as well?
that you and the projected shadow of mine-
entwined
that you and I
and our ghosts have it in us- buried
in our bones, perhaps
or carved secrets beneath our ribs-
the capacity to hold
to love
that you and I found this time
under the Milky Way and Jupiter
and we cry for the seconds lost to space
and the moments where we could have had each other
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 7:43 PM UTC
i woke up wishing for a better day
bad luck? no just another sway
i mean what was i expecting
i am normal,cliche and boring
the sun screaming at me
to just let it be
i stand up
my shadow staring at me
i start seeing things
like something that looks like wings
growing from my back
sometimes i wish they were real
so i can fly and maybe just ****
the pressure that lays on me
day after day it keeps me lonely
i suddenly wake up
thats where it ends and that i have to stand up
to face the harsh reality
but i don't want that formality
maybe i can stay here all day
just me and my thoughs
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 4:14 AM UTC
call me composed of
pieces of you-
the places
where you waited in the morning
scraps of lace
hidden in pages
the museum where we cast our
shadows
in front of the lightbox
where i could still trace
your outline
on the wall,
alone now;
how much did you
take from me
how much did i take from you?
do you hate me
for all the reasons
i miss you?
around my shoulders
there is a heavy cloak
that you used to bear
with me
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 11:20 AM UTC
(as light sleeper)
the door was...
always
open—
just enough
for what sounds mean.
-+--+-+-+-+-+-+++-+-+-+++ --+- +-+-++-+-++++-+-
(as inheritance)
his daylight
was the lie
you read
before breakfast.
the body keeps
a different ledger.
-+--+-+-+-+-+-+++-+-+-+++ --+- +-+-++-+-++++-+-
(as preparation)
you are never
not ready.
the crisis
arrives
and something
in you
exhales—
finally.
the cost of that
finally—
unapplauded.
-+--+-+-+-+-+-+++-+-+-+++ --+- +-+-++-+-++++-+
(as sensation)
loud enough
to drown it.
tight enough
to hold it.
the silence
you have been building
toward all day
arrives
where thought was.
-+--+-+-+-+-+-+++-+-+-+++ --+- +-+-++-+-++++-+
(as scar tissue)
the wound house
does not
stand forever.
what seals
is not
what was.
it bears
different weight.
knows
which floors
to avoid.
stays upright
anyway.
-+--+-+-+-+-+-+++-+-+-+++ --+- +-+-++-+-++++-+
(as offer)
i do not have
your silence.
i have
a different
instrument—
the question
held
at the right angle
until you
are fully here—
the only room
that asked you
to stay
Still.
---
— DG
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 11:51 PM UTC
Self harm is not only cutting it’s hitting and biting and burning and hurting your self but mostly cutting people think hurting them selfs is better than getting professional help in reality it’s worst your wrist are covered with cuts from self harm this is why you should get professional help some people can’t get professional help because they don’t want their parents to know and that’s understandable but at least have someone to talk to and if you don’t always text me x
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 6:19 PM UTC
why do we not
speak the same
tongue
why do we not
look
upon the same stars
has the earth spun
all the way around
and flung me to the other
side of gravity
and turned me
to the dark side of our moon?
have you forgotten me,
already?
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 10:35 PM UTC
1. waiting outside in 30 degrees because i knew
you'd run down my street
so we could walk to school together
2. my first kiss
because it was all fake for you
wasn't it
all just fun
when i really loved you, i swear i did
3. having a best friend
even if we only lasted two years
less than two years, god
4. my first crush on a girl
and it's so stupid, i swear
but i'm so angry
you had to be the one
5. everything,
because that's what i let you be
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 10:05 PM UTC
i loved you
i loved you
i loved you
and you left first
which
maybe
i should have expected
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 11:36 AM UTC
now
how is it that i know the stars
better than your face?
i know cassiopeia, the dippers,
arcturus, regulus,
crater,
hydra; i
look for them now
instead of our stars
when night falls.
Apr 19
Apr 19, 2026 at 7:13 PM UTC
The first version of the author's translation (textually more accurate), a poem written in Russian on August 5, 2016, which became even more relevant during this terrible spring ( There is also a poem about this spring, and there are plans to publish it here in the near future).
What are tanks made for? To **** and to burn!
What are thoughts made for? To know and discern!
What are tears made for? To grieve and to ache!
What are people made for? Hard to say, to take…
What is money made for? To steal it away?!
What are prisons made for? To torture the state?!
What are presidents for? To play at power, fake?!
Why do we live at all? So the soul will not break!
What are these strings made for? So anyone can sing!
What are these sounds made for? So you can learn to wing!
What is my song made for? To give my heart away!
To tell you all my feelings, And dream, and dream, and wait…
*******
The second version of the author's translation (a more literary version)
What are tanks for? To **** and burn!
What are thoughts for? To understand.
What are tears for? To mourn and hurt.
What are we for? Who knows for sure.
What is money for? To steal it?
What are prisons for? To break wills!
Why presidents? To act like kings?
Why do we live? So souls don’t fail!
What are strings for? So all can sing.
What are sounds for? So we can fly.
What is my song for? To give my heart.
To tell my feelings, with dreaming to sky.
******
Original poem in Russian - Для чего нужны танки
Для чего нужны танки? Чтобы убивать!
Для чего нужны мысли? Чтобы донимать!
Для чего нужны слезы? Чтобы горевать!
Для чего нужны люди? Сразу и не понять...
Для чего нужны деньги? Чтобы их украсть?!
Для чего нужны тюрьмы? Чтобы мучить всласть!
Для чего президенты?! Симулировать власть?!
Для чего существуем? Чтоб душе - не пропасть!
Для чего эти струны? Чтобы каждый мог спеть!
Для чего эти звуки? Чтобы мог взлететь!
Для чего моя песня? Чтобы сердце отдать!
Рассказать свои чувства и мечтать, и мечтать…
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 12:55 PM UTC
you are the only
one i have held close
kept so near to my bulletproof heart
that i have not spilled you out
onto the page
and let you be swept away;
why are you still
so precious
to me?
Apr 11
Apr 11, 2026 at 12:40 AM UTC
The silky threads glitter with light.
They ring with gold.
In my dreams, a person comes into sight.
A presence so old.
My steps quiver and flinch as I move forth.
An ineffable symbolic place views as I stray.
I move tworth.
The threads fray.
A silent night, a still body, a gate opens, I am nobody.
Free from identity, connected by spirit.
A free form bind I allow to hear it.
Hardship, **** hardship, ****
Each human among this hearth must tend to their own ****
Come now, fellow kin, don't bash.
Each frayed end is a successful amend.
Each book on this plane can imply its own ascent.
Each structure among this place stretches out to an unknown place.
I bow to thou, I am not afraid.
Fear, doubt, ego; all layers withdrew.
It all runs through; may it not loiter to few.
I push my vista out and I see all hues of light reflecting off the dew.
I stand before this person, this entity.
This place of silver and blue.
I feel the serenity.
Each step rings in clefs.
Now, I am not deaf.
Every celestial body bows.
I come upon an epiphany.
Every human can be aware and not of thou.
Something is beyond the epiphany.
Silver and blue run through these floors.
That person, that entity, then shows me more.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 5:23 PM UTC
our paper wings
call us back to the earth
and tell us that it was all a dream
where i was yours again
Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 11:53 PM UTC
it was at
that moment the day we met
you were reading
romeo and juliet, me
the comedy of errors
and you learned my name
not as ren but juliet
it was funny, honestly
that you believed my smile
and for the rest of our time
i'd be the happy friend
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 7:53 PM UTC
do your hands
too
hold the memory of me
in shaking fingers
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 7:50 PM UTC
you don't ever
put your bag down
at the park before jumping
on the swings
and something falls
from the hidden pocket-
your wallet
and
you suddenly remember
that there is a picture of me there
smiling under the sun
and you forgot about it for so long
since you never have any money
and no reason to open your wallet
so my picture sat there
just in existence
in your pocket
close to you
and you never realized until today-
that never happened to you
did it?
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 5:33 PM UTC
the places where
we stretched up toward the sky
are packed up in boxes now
to burn
their corners
folded into the cardboard- don't
cry-
don't remember-
slid into the trunk of the car
set to goodwill;
see, i was gentle
i was nice
then there was you and us and everything
and now you're gone,
but everything's just fine
isn't it
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 4:14 PM UTC
i know the moments
meant nothing to you
and i know you've forgotten
that you don't find scraps
of me around your house
and crumpled in your pockets
and you don't find old journals
with pages filled about me;
i know i never meant as much to you
as
you
did
to me
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 4:09 PM UTC
do i ruin you too? can you
see it
the shattered pieces
reflected and refracted in my eyes
and yours?
do you ever regret
loving me?
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 2:02 PM UTC
the last smile
the last hug
the last text
the last walk to school together
the last skip in the rain
the last heartbreak
the last kiss of fourteen
for my birthday
the last time you slipped your hand from mine
the last time you left me
the last promise
broken
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 10:31 PM UTC
have i ever told you
i still see you?
i tore up the scrapbook you gave me
and i cried over the paper scraps
i did it, yes;
but
have i ever told you
i see every red thing
as your favorite color;
every dazey and the scouts song
as yours; every
girl with the same pencil case
as you;
did i tell you
all the ones wearing blue jansports
and brown hair and layered shirts
and cherry-braces smiles
are still you to me?
i see you i see you i see you
over and over
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 10:24 PM UTC