DEAR PENPPAL PEOPLE, normally I'd leave the leaf to the breeze....let the breeze know that IT I CAN SEE.

If you'd know me
you'd know my eyes won't deceive
If you'd know me
you'd know my mouth won't retrieve
If you'd know me
you'd know sun, moon, & leaf
If you'd know me
you'd know how much I'd grieve
& that's the problem of knowing me
it's always trying & trying
& trying to understand
something that my words,
sometimes my look
would silently demand
trying to understand
WHERE
does the amount of
concern come from
so that the grief grieves & becomes
something of a demeanor
trying to keep other people's reflections
in my memory a print
something of their unbeknownst complaints
they don't know
about any of that
their oblivion makes them
make less of themselves
themselves in their mouths to churn
making less of my mind out again
in return
yet they do sense of me doing it
but doing what exactly?
they'll never know
but they'll keep on trying
trying to know
so only if they'd known me
only would they might
might get a little stolen steel
a little insight
all in all
they'd never reach me
they'll never find
I prefer to watch the leaf fall

                                                           ­                                 ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, 25-X-'23__5:01<=

Interesting to know
Not necessarily to show:

The human essence
Is an octavian star
Branching upon its definitive
Existence
One which we proudly
Ignore the infinite's branching
In its shadow we linger
Finitely standing
Lingering as if we know
What color it beholds
Some decorative spectrum it loathes
To be blinded by white shadow
Of the branched light
Adjacent below
So what we know
Is one of a show
In which we name
In which we smoke
The shadow we bathe
The shadow we soak
The grave we dig
the grave we loathe
Call the barrier danger zone
Call the barrier freezing snow
Explain to me
Define your thoughts
Define a territory you claim you bought
Meh
Who am I even to sought; (?)
Display your colors
Display your coats
Calling ashes your most trusted troops
Hiding under those seven loops

                                                                                            ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, honestly----:

I am taken back
by my own image
being accessible to the world
I forget people's expression
still I know how to read it so well
I forget my own expression
still it is one in my mind a print
I dwell
to cough it out
***** the drought
I shall not speak of the walls, to add
they shudder into
in a concave shape
they remind me of their inconsequential stay
& to their mercy I am doomed
Do you even have a clue?
Do I even know to whom?
Am I talking-(?)
Am I walking-(?)
Am I RAMBLING-(?)
I despise---
No cross that: Backspace
I am tired of searching
in disarray
in dull dead eyes
nonchalantly
thinking I'll find my reflection
in people barely living through
Honestly, I must say
I'd rather not know what to do
  
                                                                                            ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the golden: (every word meant)

ONE more year
2022-2023
couldn't he?
is 3sixty five days a bit too much to ask?
the moment of leave
the moment that actually defied MATH
ONE of the all left & gone
Do you know what that even means?
my idea of the improvised life
would've taken another 'responsibility'
would've been revived
ONE that would break
the ONE distorted continuity
And I'm NOT
no I'm NOT
NOT talking
Oh no I'm NOT
talking about some lost lover
what it means is even worse
NOT talking about a parent
nor a Mother
I'm talking about my idol person
my life's mentor
a teacher person
a friend human
I told him:
'you inspire us more than you think'
he laughed it off;
knowingly to its mean
into the blink
of which I always think
he knew
he had to leave again
Again to leave
don't get me wrong
I'm proud you see
but again
To Leave
The left
is our bodies
of 6ix, 7even, & 8ight
BODIES
scattered ahead
heads nodding
Improvising
Improvising
Improvising
that's all we've ever known
AGAIN
to the SECOND CITY we reached a fail
because To the reached
to be reached
is a long gone ship sailed
And my old self reads a paper
for some advise to be 'preached'
erasing the once To be reached
DO YOU KNOW THEM FEELS?
the ONEs ought to the golden trumpet's week?
I am weak
define my feels
I don't want to seem
TO BE nagging
but please tell me
DO YOU KNOW THEM FEELS?
the ONEs when you have to press ******* DELETE?
DO YOU KNOW THEM FEELS?
that I've had to thrown in a matter
of ONE alone sick year?
Again to fly
To look up to the SKY
after ONE meet's high
on a February's lie
upon the April's subside
& ONE which June
aimlessly
ironically
denies
DO YOU KNOW OUR FEELS?
DO YOU KNOW MY FEELS?
Dreams get lost
Dreams get crashed
Hearts get broken
Hearts backlash
Reality seeps in
Reality back stabs
I know no control
talk to me
about a stash
about a future
a plasticity
one which I refuse to be
yet I see you
you see
we observe each other
our harmony
long time
in no see
my humor withdraws
the purple room
haunts me
wooden blocks
shatter
me & the latter
our intermediate selves
splatter
cleaning tables
we ate on
we gathered
ONE YEAR YOU SEE
I'd like back my FEELS
of the previous
one, twos, & threes
STILL THE TABLE IS NOT CLEAN
tea 56 times a day
I drink
I swallow
violins know how to play
sad feels on display
follow your follow
out of my head
out of my lane
out of bed
everyday
to the shadow in the wall
I kinda pray
anyway
don't wait for us
don't wait for ME
I suggest we continue
Improvising
my friend
acting that way
(you see)


                                                          ­                                  ------ravenfeels