#vent
They told me to sit small,
legs crossed like folded paper,
voice tucked behind my teeth
as if silence were a virtue.
Cover up
Because if you don’t
It’s your fault
Your fault for their actions
If you ask for help
It never works
“He has a bright future”
If you need it to stop
Need to make a change
You can’t
It’s your body
But it’s their choice
Your skin, a weapon
turned on yourself
distracting, disgusting
You would never ask the same of a man
People ask
Man or bear
The answer may seem obvious to them
But no
Bear
Bear
Always bear
Because if it were a man
It would be so much worse
A man in a room of women
Ecstatic and elated
A woman in a room of men
Terrified and petrified
My shoulders?
Do they distract you
How about the bulge in your pants?
That distracts me
But I can’t say that
That’s unacceptable and awkward
So for once
Maybe instead of protection
Education would be the way to go
Because the answer should never be bear
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 12:39 PM UTC
Fall in love with yourself.
Learn how to be infatuated
with the veins in your hands
and the stretchmarks on your tummy.
Make your own heart race
as you whisper those
three words,
eight letters
to yourself
over and over again.
*I love you.
I love you.
I love you.*
And mean it.
If you can learn how to
profess your undying love
to the naked, scared figure
in the mirror,
you can learn how to
daydream about a future
where you
and that person
are finally happy.
If you can give
a piece of your heart
to that stranger on the bus,
why can't you give everything
back to yourself?
You,
who picked your broken self up
after dropping to your knees
one too many times.
You,
who dragged your ***
to the toilet
after drinking the night away
(even though you promised
that you wouldn't do it again).
You,
who wasn't always there,
but tried to make it up to yourself
by covering your wounds
with purple plasters
and starlight.
Because when people
turn out their pockets
with no spare love
to hand to you,
you will stuff your hands into yours
and give them some of your own
without ever running out of supply.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
dilaw na dyaket ang suot mo noon
habang ako ay nananahimik
hindi makaimik
at pinagmamasdan ang bawat sinag ng dapithapon
na sinasala ng kinulayang bintana
kung saan ay sa aking mga mata na ngayon lamang nakakita ng ganda ay biglang napatunganga
dilaw na dyaket ang suot mo noon
at ang unang naitala
sa listahan ng mga napuna ng aking mga mata at biglang napatunganga na nga
nang dahil sa bawat tupi ng manggas
at bawat kusot ng bulsa ng dilaw na dyaket **** naisipang ipakita sa silid ng mga kaluluwa
mga kaluluwang akala ko ay mabibigyan kong buong pansin ngunit heto, napatitig na rin
ako'y napatitig na rin
napatitig sa dilaw na dyaket mo
at hindi ko mawari kung paano
pero ang dilaw na dyaket **** nakabalabal sa iyong kay liit na katawan ay humihila pababa sa iyong mga balikat
nakakibit
hindi man lang kayang mapaakyat ang iyong pagpapakalálo
napapaliit
ang tikas ng iyong pagkatao
hindi ko rin mawari kung paano
pero ang dilaw na dyaket mo ay para bang napabalabal na rin sa akin
at mula noon, ang bawat tupi ng manggas at bawat kusot ng bulsa ng aking puso ay handa nang aminin na ikaw ay naging isang
anghel
ang dilaw na dyaket mo ay naging iyong halo
at ang bawat tupi ng manggas at bawat kusot ng bulsa nito ay naging mga pakpak mo at ikaw ay naging isang
anghel
ika'y naging
anghel sa aking isipan
marikit na imahe sa aking kaloob-looban
munting sigaw sa buong kalawakan
o, munting anghel ko, nais ko na sanang isigaw:
nakikita mo ba?
nakikita mo ba kung paano kita nakikita?
nakikita mo ba kung paano kita sinasamba?
nakikita mo ba kung paano kita sinisinta?
oo, sinisinta, dahil
munting anghel ko, o, mahal kita
mahal kita, o, munting anghel ko
mahal kita
at ang bawat tupi ng manggas at bawat kusot ng bulsa ng iyong pagkatao
mahal kita
at ayaw kong manatili ka lamang sa isipan ko
mahal kita
at nais kong ako ang magpabalabal sa iyong puso
at nais kong ako ay maging iyo
at nais kong mahalin mo rin ako
ngunit, o, munting anghel ko, natakot ako
natakot ako na
kung ilalahad ko ang lahat ng mga ligaw na alaala ko sa iyo
ay huhusgahan mo ako
kung hayaan kong buksan mo ang aking mga pinto
ay matatakot ka nang makita mo ang nilalaman nito
kung ipakita ko sa iyo ang lahat ng mga tupi ng manggas at mga kusot ng bulsa ng aking puso
ay magugulat ka at lilisanin mo ako
kaya heto, ang munting anghel ko ay nanatili sa isipan lamang
ang marikit na imahe ko ay nanirahan sa kaloob-looban lamang
ang munting sigaw ko ay naging bulong lamang
isang bulong na nagsasabing:
o, munting anghel ko, mahal kita,
o, munting anghel ko, pangarap kita,
ngunit, o, munting anghel ko, natatakot akong sa piling mo'y ako'y madulas
at tuluyang mawala ka.
maroon na dyaket ang suot mo kanina
noong ako ay naarawan ng sikat ng umaga
at ng tawa ng ilang mga kahalubilo't kasama
at naroon sa gitna ng aking sariling mga tawa ay nakita kita
ngunit may kasamang iba
at siya'y ika'y inakbayan
at ika'y siya'y nginitian
at ako'y napaisip nang biglaan
kayo ba?
kayo ba?
kayo ba?
napakwento ang kaibigan ko:
alam mo ba,
ganun na nga
sila na
magdadalawang-linggo na.
hindi naman sa nasaktan ako
pero parang ganoon na nga.
hindi naman sa napatigil bigla ang tibok ng puso ko
pero parang ganoon na nga.
hindi naman sa nadurog ako nang mapansin ko na ang sukat ng maroon na dyaket mo ay mas sakto sa iyo at hindi niya nahihila pababa ang iyong buong pagkatao at siguro ito ay dahil siya ang kasama mo at hindi ako kaya para bang siya na ang nakabalabal sa iyong puso at ang bawat tupi ng manggas at bawat kusot ng bulsa ng kaniyang puso ay napaibig na sa iyo—
pero parang ganoon na nga.
ganoon na nga
dahil kayo na nga
kayo na
kayo na
kayo na.
ganoon na nga
dahil siya ang kasama mo
hindi ako
hindi ako
hindi ako.
siguro kung hindi ako natakot
siguro kung hindi ako natakot na ilahad ang lahat ng mga ligaw na alaala ko sa iyo
ay hindi ka na mananatili lamang sa isipan ko
siguro kung hindi ako natakot na hayaang buksan mo ang aking mga pinto
ay mapapabalabal ko na ang iyong puso
siguro kung hindi ako natakot na ipakita ang lahat ng mga tupi ng manggas at mga kusot ng bulsa ng aking puso
ay ako na'y magiging iyo
siguro kung hindi ako natakot na madulas sa piling mo
ay mamahalin mo na rin ako
ngunit ayan na nga, o, munting anghel ko, natakot ako
at ayan na nga, o, munting anghel ko,
lahat ng ito ay hindi ko na nasabi sa iyo
at ayan na nga, o, munting anghel ko,
baka tuluyan nang mawala ang dilaw na dyaket mo sa buhay ko
maroon na dyaket na ang suot mo
ngunit ang dilaw na dyaket mo pa rin ang nakatatak sa isipan ko
at ang bawat tupi ng manggas at bawat kusot ng bulsa ng dilaw na dyaket mo ay nakabalabal pa rin sa aking puso
aking puso na nadurog, at patuloy na nadudurog hanggang ngayon
nang dahil sa dilaw na dyaket na suot mo noon
dahil sa dilaw na dyaket na suot na ng iba ngayon
Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 11:47 PM UTC
every friday, i put on makeup
i think it looks good
with eye shadow and just the right amount of nail glitter
i can look like
golden royalty, an azure fairy, a lime snake-kid
but
every friday, i get a second train of thoughts
i think i look not-as-good
with a thinner face and less prevalent raven-feathers under my eyes
i could look better
why don't i look better
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
please
get out of my head.
get
out
of
my
head!
it's so painful to have you here
yet i'm always fighting for you to stay
so do me a favor
just get out
i know you don't care
you don't act like it
you ignore me
you neglect me
you reject me
and yet you said you loved me?
how could you?
to be honest..
how could i?
to fall for your lies...
i'm such a **** fool
why do i love you? it makes no sense
i have to block you for some peace, until i come crawling back in hopes of gaining your attention
it hurts so much
all of this,
caring about you.
i'm crying so much
i took my glasses off
i can barely see the screen on which i'm typing
almost like i can barely see my feelings as something important to you
sigh
i have so much to do
homework
studying
meditation
i even have a potential relationship
and yet i can't do any of it
none of it keeps my focus
why?
because of you!
why can't you listen to my plead?
i don't know
Please,
Just!
Get!
Out!
Of!
My!
Head!
before i blow you out with a bullet.
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
I'm lost in translation,
bound
by hallucinatory sensations,
found
between border and sea,
cold but free
like a continental breeze
that drifts lonely
to shore.
Still so unsure.
Then lost again once more.
This time she's lost like never before.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 10:20 AM UTC
You and I were a natural disaster.
How we acted came naturally,
Though as natural as a volcano.
There is beauty in destruction.
And darling, we blew up.
We crumbled, we burned,
And we took others down with us.
The aftermath still isn't pretty,
But life is rebuilding around us.
It's avoiding the rough spots,
Still cooling off.
It's hard.
It's rocky.
It'll all come together soon, though.
I was magma, unstable, explosive.
You were the rock, the result of previous disasters.
You were simply trying to grow.
I was simply out of control.
You and I were a natural disaster.
And just like most eruptions,
We erupted when it was least expected.
Maybe now, I can cool.
I can stabilize and reform.
You can finally get the stability you need,
From a source less risky than I.
There is beauty in destruction.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
When he comes home, I go into panic mode,
The walls in my brain closing in,
The bile in my throat rising,
My teeth sweating in anticipation of what is to come
When he comes home,
I hope to god that I pass beneath the radar,
Nothing more than a sigh on the breeze,
Nothing more than a ripple in a pond
Nothing for him to notice
When he comes home, I make myself as small as I can,
Hoping that he’ll ignore me like he has all these years,
But knowing that it’s a futile attempt,
Like trying to avoid the burning sun
When he comes home,
The nausea roils in my gut,
Reminding me that I am nothing,
That I will never be anything more than what he paints me to be
When he comes home,
I am reduced to “yes sir” and “no sir,”
To eyes that are glued to the ceiling or floors,
To fidgeting hands and twisting fingers
To nothing more than a decoration to stand in the corner
When he comes home,
I try to retreat to my room,
I try to give him the space that he seems to need,
I try to leave him be and let him sleep,
But nothing seems to work, and he yells all the same
When he comes home,
My home becomes nothing more than a battlefield,
One that I cannot escape,
One that there is no running from,
One from which the injuries are only seen in the trauma that is left behind
When he comes home,
My life becomes nothing more than a play,
A tragedy in which no one survives,
A performance that I am supposed to know,
But stage fright has taken over and the lines mean nothing to me now
And I am frozen, hoping for the curtains to fall to cover my fear
When he comes home,
I quietly
Exit
Stage left.
Jun 17, 2023
Jun 17, 2023 at 9:15 PM UTC
In all of my twenty years of life,
I have been many things.
A daughter
A sister
A friend
A lover
But now, I am no longer my father’s little girl.
My father doesn’t talk to me anymore;
He says that I don’t look him in the eyes,
And he is right, but not for the reason he believes
I am afraid to look him in the eyes
Because I don’t want to see myself reflected in them,
Proof of my failure to separate myself from him,
Proof that I am him and always will be him
I do not want to become my father,
Stuck in a marriage with no love left
Or love that is there
Only because it is supposed to be
I do not want to become my father,
Constantly on the verge of tiredness,
And whether that tiredness is directed at
His family or his life, I shall never know
Because I do not want to become my father
All sharp words and angry edges,
Keeping everyone around him on their toes,
Keeping my head on a swivel to not upset him
I do not want to be my father.
I do not want to make my children feel
as though they will never measure up to
Impossible standards, set way too high
I do not want to be my father,
Telling my daughter that she’s eating too much
And not looking at me enough,
Guilt-tripping her into half-hearted apologies,
Said with tears trembling in her eyes
I do not want to be my father.
I do not want my children to be frightened of me,
Dreading the thought of my arrival home
Waiting in fear of my reaction to something they’ve done
I do not want to be my father.
My home will be a gentle home,
Peaceful and quiet,
With no rage-filled shouting matches
I do not want to be my father,
Wondering where he went wrong with his daughter,
That she would stand in front of him, angry tears on her cheeks,
Screaming at him that she wishes that she were dead
I do not want to be my father.
Struggling to catch up with the times,
Grudgingly supportive of the daughter that is different,
The daughter that loves men and women,
But only because he has to be
I do not want to be my father
But I wish that sometimes,
I could be his little girl again,
Back when everything was ok
And it still felt like he loved me
I do not want to be my father,
But sometimes,
It feels as though
I will never be anything more
Jun 9, 2023
Jun 9, 2023 at 10:44 PM UTC
I like people who hurt me.
I promise I don't enjoy the pain they put me through
But in some masochistic way,
I like people that hurt me.
It's easier that way.
Loving someone who you know will put you through torment
whose true colors already show,
than to trust the innocent flower unaware of the snake that hides beneath it.
I can't be caught surprised,
can't say I didn't see it coming
So I love people who hurt me
Mar 8, 2023
Mar 8, 2023 at 9:06 AM UTC
You don't care anymore.
But i guess you never really did.
Why would anybody
want to care about someone
who can't even care about herself?
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
Every time someone leaves me
it feels like they’ve taken a dagger straight to my heart
It isn’t a fast motion but slow and painful
The suffering prolonged.
It isn’t made out of metal, but wood
When it’s pulled out of my body
Each time, they leave behind pieces of themselves,
splinters
I wonder how many I’ve collected?
Im sure by now I can create a dagger if my own.
Mar 8, 2023
Mar 8, 2023 at 8:12 PM UTC
You say **** this" when about to quit, and **** it" when frustrated. You say **** you" whether joke or vile and **** me" when penetrated.
You put your middle finger up as a clear indication. An indication that shows via signals your current irritation.
You say **** off" meaning go away and **** yourself" means to make this clearer. ****** means persn and **** partner" a non-serious lover.
Well I say **** life, **** death, **** puerty, **** **** **** all the things that try to force me to change myself.
**** love, **** hate, **** destiny, **** fate. these things are just emtional, a way of god giving you a slap in the face.
**** dads, **** moms, **** terrorists, **** bombs. Such elements are born to teach and keep straight, yet some cause hate.
**** for pleasure, **** pain, **** loss, hell, **** gain. And from that moment, you'll fing out all the things cleared from your brain.
No, we don't hate these things, we just sometimes don't find pleasure. You'd have a ****** up" relationship when you refuse to be together.
All these things were easy to say, digging for words sometimes'll get you stuck. Which is why I believe there's no better created word than a summary word like ****
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
You told me nobody wants you.
When did that happen?
I want you,
but I don’t see where I became
“nobody”.
I mean,
in my eyes I’m somebody.
In my eyes I’m somebody
likable and funny…
but I am pretty stupid.
And I mess up a lot.
But I am definitely not
“nobody”.
So when you tell me that nobody wants you, that-
that hurts!
Cause I don’t see how you can say that when someone is there
looking out for you every day,
because they care about you very,
very much.
I am not
“nobody”
so never say nobody wants you.
Because I want you.
And I’ll fight for you every day,
just say the word.
I think about you every day,
I wonder how you’re doing because I-
I can’t be there with you
all the time!
But that doesn’t mean I’m
“nobody”.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
miles away
i’m feeling F a r A w a y…
i see myself and i just float (t)here
waiting to wake up from this fog
things are hazy
curse that **** juice
what happened exactly?
the words are heavy on my tongue…
can’t get myself to spit them out
can’t get myself to speak the truth
can’t get myself to admit what you did to me
out of character behavior
out of body experience
oh
you don’t remember
oh
i’m sorry i’m holding onto things you forgot all about
i tried to use you as an antidepressant
you just used me
i should have left my feelings for you at the door
i wish i had said no to you
i wish i had been given the choice
i’ve got to let it go (but when? and how?)
if i don’t think about it, it won’t hurt.. right?
gotta focus on someday cuz today hurts a little too much
i wish i could stop thinking about this
i wish i could forget you
i wish you could understand that i don’t hate you
i just wish i’d never met you
Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 5:35 PM UTC
But for once,
just once,
I want to be able tell someone
absolutely every crazy thought
that rummages throughout
my absolutely crazy mind
and I want them to tell me
that maybe I am not insane,
that maybe I am just
different,
and then maybe tell me
that they like
different.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
He appears tough, he stands tall.
But truly, underneath it all,
He's sympathetic, vulnerable.
I can't believe myself for being so horrible.
It's true that I love him,
With my heart and soul.
But's it's somewhat-
Overwhelming.
My space I feel is shifting.
I can't tell if it's a good thing.
I want him close, near by.
However, I feel scared inside.
Will he think I'm too lazy?
What if in reality I appear pudgy.
Sure, he says he doesn't mind.
I'll just be his tubby for life.
Which I kinda like,
But still.
These insecurities.
They drown me.
Very slowly,
They're suffocating.
Please God, is it too much to ask for?
Just for once, to enjoy being loved.
I want him to pick me up in an embrace!
For ***** sake, can't I just, take off these weights...
I've hurt him.
I have nothing else to say.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
Dear titanic, tell me of how you survived your last hurrah- tell me of how you didn’t see the iceberg, tell me of how it felt to lay down on the ocean floor, tell me of how empty you are, the skeletons of your passengers are all but hollow husks- skeletons from a time that is now gone.
“I am not empty,” the titanic says back to me, her voice muffled by bubbles and groans from rust coated pipes.
“But you are, I say. “You are empty but filled with ghosts- yours, the oceans, theirs. They party and laugh and drink and dance and run in your rooms, your hallways that go on forever.”
“You are the empty one,” titanic whispers, rusty railings creaking.
Dear titanic, how did you feel, sinking, ripping in two- unable to be put together again, how did it feel becoming a broken heart? Did you bleed? Did you do it to yourself?
“Was your sink an accident?”
“What do you think?” She growls- groans and moans echo all around.
“How did the music players continue on as you sank- their instruments and lungs filling up with seawater as their somber music filled the ears of your passengers?”
“They just played on, soothing my pain,” came the reply.
“Dear titanic-” I started.
“Let me ask you- why have you come?” She demands.
“To learn your secrets of course.”
“That’s not why.”
“Who hurt you for you to seek me out? Why have you come?”
“I've come to find out what you did to survive.” I reply.
“Then you know now” She whispers, pipes groaning as she shook with mirthless laughter
“Do I?” I questioned.
“Yes.” I imagined her smiling at me- broken glass as teeth and sharp lines for lips.
“How did you survive?” I whispered, my heartbeat echoing in the stillness- needing to hear the words I hoped she wouldn't say.
“I didn’t.”
— dear titanic, tell me of how you survived your sinking // a.
Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 9:57 AM UTC
my mother once foretold
that my overwhelming disgust
poured onto my skin and
patches of personalities
will put me on a gridiron
and wave me as a vapor heat
bearable, annoying, and
unwanted — but!
it is a process i forego
before i love the person
who will love me more than
i despise me
and that person is me
i am my wildfire
and i am my flood
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 2:06 AM UTC
its a new year
i'm tired of all the ********
girls usually don't like me which makes me wonder
they always go for guys that will break in the end
they always wonder "where are all the good guys?"
you literally come to me and ask me that same question
i've been friendzoned multiple times
i don't care anymore
these females really don't think of the guys they hurt
remember your'e always gonna see that guy you friendzoned
he will move on and you'll be trying to get back into his life
all guys that have been friendzoned find someone prettier or way more better than you will ever be
i'm just tired of the insecure females
who always say, "oh I'm fat"
when literally your a skinny little girl
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC
Am I really upset over this shopping cart?
This cart that is full of heavy and huge products.
Am I upset over how many people may make me stop and block my path in this store?
Every single one, just trying to get by, with their very own shopping cart.
No.
It must be this feeling of being unheard.
To follow and soon becoming lead.
But where is progression when those who follow, don’t.
Annoyance, overstimulation, anger, boil.
Every stop, turn, push.
Stop.
Turn.
Push.
Is it my fault we’re here?
Perhaps next time I’ll come alone.
Dec 11, 2023
Dec 11, 2023 at 8:10 PM UTC
Oh
to be the girl in those adverts ,
Light,
skinny,
beautiful
A tragic line
to every gentle rib
I fetishise her fragile fingers
A monstrous beast reflected in the mirror, the worst possibility.
Tis poetic, there she stares
Says her lines; remaining fair,
Into my face, My acting is heavy handed and awkward
She’s a consumable reality,
She’s easy on the eyes
The fragile female,
salvageable.
We are a tragedy of ages, her Juliet, I Faustus
They silently boo while I slop onto the stage
A lazy slob,The **** of society, just don’t eat you fat **** men like curvy girls We don’t want to see you, You’re so brave! You’re the problem, it’s not hard hide your mass from view, unkempt, repulsive, vile. hide yourself it offends my sharp eyes.
I open my drooling mouth to speak, but there are chins smothering my mouth
My eyes clouded by greasy cellulite
I don’t want to exist like this.
So just stop eating.
I’d give an arm and a leg,
my pale teeth,
my parasitic possibility
my child
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 12:36 PM UTC
i wish i had said no to you
i think about it all the time
i can’t let [ it ] go
i wish i could forget
( if i don’t think about it, it won’t hurt.. right? )
i swear i had said no to you
maybe you just didn’t wanna hear it
i can still feel your hands on me
i wish i had made you listen
( pretending something didn’t happen doesn’t make it so )
i took pills instead of chances
i thought i was healed
but this is only the beginning
there’s no failing
it’s a process
slow progress is still progress
forgive yourself
keep going
keep g r o w i n g
hurt as long as you need to
hurt as LOUD as you need to
Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 6:20 PM UTC