#therapeutic
my heart:
create/to create/arts/in all their forms and glory/language/to speak in the tongue you inherited from your mother/to speak to the dead/stars/to read them out loud like they are an open book/smell poetry in flowers and carcasses/to create/to influence/math/the bridge between art and science/a tortured poet/an astrologer/a mathematician/but i will be known/but i can’t put myself out there/but i have to/my heart lives for this.
my head:
go for it/but are you sure/they will scrutinize you like a forensic subject/i know but you can’t hold me back like this every time/my heart howls to change but you resist to change/i’m just keeping you safe because this world is not where you perform/but i only have this one life/let me get there/i can’t do it on my own/please.
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 4:18 AM UTC
my extremities are bound to your mahogany desk - what seems to be your working space. for the first time they are rendered purposeless, just drifting in your current like a priceless tonic. heavy torrents out there but i can't hear them. i know no amount of downpour can water down the sinful scarlet we caught ourselves into. we're about to roam wild and free tonight, where only my mind could reach.
so you commanded me to be on all fours, leaving gaps between my lips:
"spit...
spit out poetry and banters into my mouth.
spit...
spit out bitter truth that is hard for the night to bear.
i'm all ears, but im not sure if my heart can take it."
with you, i become my own libertine.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 3:01 PM UTC
I live on an island.
Just me and my 2.3 million thoughts.
It's getting crowded here,
I looked to the right,
and the money worries are in sight
I turn a corner,
there's housing waiting for an order
I spin around to the sound of my Independence,
crying with fear,
she may be about to be taken away
I look up and see my capabilities questioning me
I need my thoughts to stop all talking
This island is too full.
I want to get off
My finances are taking a hit
It's not my fault,
Not one bit
I can't take on anymore. My Island is about to sink
On the count of three… just stop.
Jul 24, 2025
Jul 24, 2025 at 6:38 AM UTC
the days between our distance stretch longer than those palms once held together.
remind me, since when did we start to loosen our grips over them?
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025 at 5:00 PM UTC
cry,
cry yourself a river.
maybe then, you'll finally have a reason to build a bridge
and get over it.
Mar 24, 2025
Mar 24, 2025 at 11:53 PM UTC
you draw the lines blurry so i have to draw up the curtains.
the one-man show,
with no eyes to see,
and no hearts to witness,
has finally faded into its final bow.
you never had to quit -
you were never part of it.
Mar 21, 2025
Mar 21, 2025 at 3:27 AM UTC
you were once the air i breathed,
when did i become polluted, too?
Mar 19, 2025
Mar 19, 2025 at 6:55 AM UTC
A sense of belonging
Unexplainable and haunting
Relaxation, imagination
Magnificent creation
Each note pulls me in
Emotions so extreme
Time freezes,sadness melts away
No words describe it, nothing needed to say
An ambivalent world
Yet lucidly clear
Beauty in harmony
Truly sincere
Invincible yet weak
No darkness, no fear
The sound of music
Therapeutic, Majestic
Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 1:04 PM UTC
When I feel myself
Beginning to fret
When fear or depression
String me along
The best way to stop it
To jam up the angst
Is to set loose the hands
To break into song
Take note of my thoughts
Tune into my feelings
Pick out a rhythm
And let it ring true
I try but can't quite
Put my finger on why
But my hands 'round this neck
Sure cast out the blues
Jul 22, 2019
Jul 22, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
A flush creeps to my cheeks, it's been weeks and weeks now. I'm tired of these vicious conceits, continuous defeat as we struggle over who gets to inevitably keep their sanity... her apparently as she slashes my name again and again, once twice thrice called her a friend now. It's all over, supposedly no animosity any more, can't call her a two faced evil... person, thats not civil or nice, it's not me am I right? What's this stinging feeling in my eyes, I can't, I don't know just make this emptiness stop, a pit forming in my stomach and as I rise to the top I could just drop my self into it, all the jokes, all the smiles, all the confidence I never had anyway disappears before it was here even for a day. Big girls don't cry, but then again the songs lie, I sit here surrounded by people who judge the sound of my tears hitting plastic, they think it's fantastic to see a guy like me brought to there level. Big guy, just means another foot to fly as I fall from the sky, after being dropped from so high. Get it together Jack you're not having a panic attack. You're not anxious. You're not depressed. Even if you were no one would be impressed by your pain. Just pick yourself up, roll a *** pack your bag and run home. And start it all over again.
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
Can't wait to see the old man Wednesday week.
Give my update on exposing the freak.
I'll have to 'create' by Wednesday tea, so me Shan & Lloydy* can watch T.V.
I told Deb Simo, I count as best friend, but didn't consider how all this would end.
As one told another and the news spread.
The obvious outcome, my husband is dead.
What would I do without my old Mum who guided and led me to be with this ***
By listening to Mum and taking advice, this peado* has had me not once but now twice.
Oh didn't I tell you, when I was fourteen, he took down my knickers, did something obscene.
Now that my marriage has all ended bad, I've now got a boyfriend as old as my Dad.
And if you think that's a joke, here's one, he's probably due another stroke.
Three years of bad luck, what will I do next.
Send him vile messages, all via text.
It can't be long now, and when all is done at least me and Shan have had lots of fun.
Now his family all know, they smirk and they grin. Best just do that than risk say something.
But what will he do. He'll tell them they're through unless they come clean and point at us two.
As we'd always planned, "best get on our toes". He's not ******* stupid, he already knows.
So time to move on and find some new friends.
For me, you and him this is where it all ends.
Poetry by Kaydee.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 6:39 PM UTC
There's a soft grass field in which I lay.
I close my eyes and breathe in the atmosphere.
The soft wind makes the grass sound like an ocean.
But, it's a bit too dark, isn't it?
I open my eyes to a splash of colors and patterns.
Brown grounded coffee beans.
Orange burnt from the sun.
Tan insides of a tree trunk.
Black like singed ashes.
And green.
The color of life.
The flowers tickle my cheek.
Stroking my face with a gentle touch.
I feel a raindrop fall on my nose.
I giggle softly.
It's going to rain soon, but I don't want to go.
Everything seems tranquil right now.
I close my eyes again.
A soft sound rings nearby mixing into the sounds of the wind.
It's almost putting me to sleep.
I breathe with the motion of the hum.
I wish I can stay here forever.
The sun is so warm against my face.
I feel nothing but the grass brushing against my skin.
I feel the soft hum enter my lungs and back out my half parted lips.
I want to drink this feeling.
This feeling of comfort, of warmth, of security,
of home.
It's so quiet, I feel loved here.
The sun kisses my forehead.
The flowers strokes my cheek.
The grass caresses my body.
the raindrop touches my nose.
The atmosphere drowns me in serenity.
...
But I must get up before the thunderstorm comes.
I take a deep breath in,
and I open my eyes.
I exhale out,
with a long and deep sigh.
"I'll be back soon for you, my kitty."
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
I wish for those days.
Where the tips of my fingers are cold,
And my insides are warm.
I desire those nights.
Where the headaches slowly arrive.
And the comforting tears flow.
I want those rare winter times.
Where there are pink skies within me.
And stormy nights.
Rain in California.
Love on my lips.
Peace contained in your eyes.
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC
Did I ask for help?
Easy for those out there looking in.
Shame fills my emptiness.
Pride is long lost among the
Apathy. I reek of
Insensible poetry, palms are
Rooted to the shame of it.
;
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 6:09 AM UTC
Inhale, Exhale, Repeat.
Close your bright eyes, they say too much.
Don’t speak, you can’t change anything.
Inhale, Exhale, Repeat. As if you are sleeping.
Stretch your body as far as you can.
Make it bigger, longer,
like you have spent your life in a smaller man’s coffin.
Be still.
Don’t blink, don’t part your trembling lips, don’t move your toe three quarters of an inch.
Be still.
Scream. LOUDER. Softer.
Scream as high as you can. Louder. You have to scream to save your life. SCREAM.
Stop.
Don’t Speak. You can’t change anything.
Look into your eyes in the mirror.
Keep looking, you can’t back down.
Don’t blink, keep looking.
Keep looking.
Blink. Blink again.
More. Faster.
Blink until you can’t see anything anymore
until you are blind
Stop.
Clench your fists. Grit your teeth. Flex your muscles.
Your arms, your legs, your toes.
Make your body tight.
Tight.
Tight.
Release.
Melt.
Collapse.
Be liquid.
Don’t speak, you can’t change anything.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
I remember you like a famous brachiosaur, ensconced in the terrible street lamps of west county apartment block row. That swaying bronze gate to your three flat two room apartment. Skinny legs for the couch, the backroom bedroom, and the bunk beds in the master suite. We studded me for excellent squeeze; one trident pull switching time against a baited lock. "I'll swallow you whole," you brushed off into my ear while I passed your cheek with my lips, braising your skin with dew drops of our rushes and sweat. Even for April this was alright. Your brother had already moved out, and listening to Hall and Oates and going fishing was all you wanted to do. So I made us two root beer floats with Almond Milk ice cream, and settled into you for five hours and forty-five minutes. It was before 5:00a.m. when you turned to the night and spilled the last ounces of your naked body out to me beneath the satin sheets. I pressed my lips hard against your nose and whispered I'd be leaving soon. Still I do not recall if I woke you when I left, but I remember that next day when you questioned if I had.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC