you resemble spring
and all the flowers it brings
you are everything

jasmine green tea
the flowers smell so sweet
she put soap in my mouth
she wants to wash it out
i let the aroma lie to me

i watch this website fall apart
the entire screen freezing as i try to log back in after so many years
and after taking ap principles last year
i can kinda tell why

i am now seventeen
with only a "youthful disposition" to be seen
but only living for her
the little kid who thought being old was all there was to be

fruitger aero
y2k
grainy photos from yesterday

it was never about getting here
it was just about getting away
and crying over an indie album
from 2008

the words hit me harder than any song from a tiktok artist today
were we never really alone?

strange individuals from ten years ago
once scorned, now cherished by the youth

and i ahead or simply behind?

the useless porcelain jars from the thrift store hold more soul to me than any shirt from target ever will

born in the correct era
for now i can love the previous one in peace
strange how we only like something when it leaves

i can't see them
the stars
i've left them for the city
as for cheaters never prosper
i've abandoned my dreams for someone else's
and all i have left
is to gaze at the lampost
as it flickers away

i always thought
i'd be alone
i always thought
all i'd ever have
was the pillow on my bed
in which i'd grasp onto
so tightly
frantically searching
for warmth

i cried
i cried so, so much
i never knew
that i could be loved back
that i'd ever receive such a thing
i never knew
that i was worth it
that i'd ever deserve such a thing
yet here you are, my love
i have found warmth
i have found the embrace of a thousand laughters
and a single little kiss on your cheek

my sun,
my moon,
my galaxy of a myriad of stars,
i no longer clasp onto the pillow in despair
but a soft, calming imagination
waiting for the day
you'd finally be there

the poet is the seamstress,
sewing words into sentences
.
the poet is the architect
building their paragraphs
.
the poet is the performer
setting the stage
.
the poet is the dreamer
with endless possibilities

-----however-----

the poet is falling apart
their heart unmendable; in pieces
.
the poet is scared
walls that protect, yet isolate.
.
but the poet is strong
and lives to tell their tale
.
as the poet is the dreamer
with endless possibilities

no more fixing bindra
no more fixing pramod
i will no longer tend to the dumpster fire that is their ego

the little things they do
still pulls the strings of my heart
you want my will to be your puppet
and i want yours to be mine
whatever makes you feel "safe"
whatever makes me feel "safe"
is whatever makes us in control

you are as broken as you have broken me
i no longer want to fix you
i want you to respond to my every demand
i want to manipulate you like you have manipulated me

i no longer want to destroy such evil
i simply want to turn the tables
i want to restore balance
and give myself room to breathe
because lord knows i'd be a better tyrant than you

i'm on my villain arc (setting boundaries)
biting at the hand that feeds me
because I was supposed to be the baby!
you were supposed to baby me!
when all i did was baby you!

i wanted to be your baby
i wanted to be your baby so bad

but look at what you do to babies

i am no alchemist
i cannot turn monster into human
simply, i can keep it under control
a muzzle to the rabid dog

your words bite into my heart
as i bite into your arm
if it bleeds, i wonder
if you'll think when you stare at the wound

w h a t  w a s  t h e  p o i n t  o f  s t a y i n g  a l i v e
i f  e v e r y t h i n g  i  l o v e  e i t h e r  l e a v e s  m e  o r  d i e s ?

my mood changes like the tides
it’s all just some wave i ride
up and down
circling around
how much of it is really just my mind?

lullabies are counterproductive
do not bother to sing
for i will wake up,
and stay up-
to hear you finish the entire thing

I ******* HATE PLANES
I ******* HATE PLANES
EVERY TIME I FLY
IT'S ALWAYS THE SAME

SIXTEEN HOURS
OF INESCAPABLE PAIN
SITTING IN A CABIN
WITH MORE BABIES THAN BRAINS

IF IT'S TOO ANNOYING
THE WINDOW SEAT IS GREAT
I CAN JUMP THE **** OUT
AND ESCAPE MY ****** FATE

HOW IS THIS EDIBLE?!!
IT LOOKS LIKE THE HAIR OF A CHEST
WHAT WOULD BE MORE TASTEFUL
IS THE ******* ARMREST

ITS' COLD, IT'S DRY,
I WANT TO CRY
BUT THEN I'D DISTURB THE PEOPLE NEARBY

BUT AT LAST, IT STOPS
EMERGENCY LANDING
A CORPSE LIES THERE
IN SEAT 32B

IT'S ME!
IT'S ME!
THE CORPSE IS ME
I DIED
LIKE FIVE TIMES
OR AT LEAST DEAD IS WHAT I'D RATHER BE

FLYING IS A CURSE
THAT DRIVES ME INSANE
BECAUSE I ******* HATE PLANES
I ******* HATE PLANES

i saw the stars in your eyes


...as in red stars
the supergiants on the brink of death





you should probably go see a doctor

shoot for the stars, they say
sky's the limit
well now it's my limit
now I shoot myself until I see stars
supernova catastrophic
the lightshow is spectacular




what?
I did what you wanted me to

life is short- yet still,
they don't start living until
death comes near the door

i don’t even wanna think
i just wanna dream
to gaze upon distant worlds
read old conversations and smile as i try to contain my laughter
to do nothing but imagine the worlds i could  create on a piece of paper
i wanna smell every flower
and be nice to every person
i wanna drown myself in every song
and sing along once my teacher lets me
i wanna see all the colors of the world
and hold them close like a little blanket
i wanna fall asleep with a pen in my hand
to paint my nails and stain my palms
i wanna dig my hands into a box of something
just to see how it feels

lovely little fantasy world
perhaps if i commit myself to you long enough you’ll be come real

came to drown myself
in your ocean- yet all you
gave was a puddle

there is a saying:
"all flowers are beautiful
until you're sneezing"

South America:
It's not cold down there, only
a little chile

of course i scream when i yawn! (slightly)
is it not frightening to know that despite all this caffeine,
i am still tired?

science is all about mistakes

both making them,
and feeling like one too

why must you use the seas
as synonyms for your sadness?

learn to swim!
coward.

bravery is but
another, fancy word for
painfully stupid

yet coward, is not
intelligent either. you
must balance the two

fear
it consumes me
a staple of its cuisine
of shattered minds and broken hearts
clumping things together,
yet pulling them apart

like a toddler,
it runs through
and smashes everything
your wishes,
your dreams,
everything
has now become fear

it yells "mine!"
you respond. "no, mine!"
who is in control?
the more you question, the more you're answered
as wonder turns into worry
your lenses tinted rose
perspective gone blurry
finally, you know
that this feeling,
this primitive feeling,
was designed to keep you alive.
but all it does
is tear you down
and makes you want to die.

You stare at your reflection.
It stares back at you too.
"You're a failure." It says.
You reply. "No, you."

how dare you disturb my slumber!
my dream was of eating chocolate!

what could you possibly be calling me for,
at the ungodly time of 11am?!

what's this?

you've called me to say good morning?

WELL IT ISN'T QUITE A GOOD MORNING NOW, ISN'T IT??

knock knock. Who's there? At
this ungodly time? Correct.
You are but lonely

time is an illusion
we are living in a lie
yet no one wants to find the truth
of what happens when we die
as we don't really want life to end
just something nicer
something nice to begin

time is an illusion
we are living in a lie
but we like this lie
so we let it pass by
illusioned by time

awoken by your lullaby
i find myself on the sand
the waves crash
the wind blows
where am I?
who knows

the sun is out again
the trees smile with delight
and the butterflies take flight

we thought it was impossible
that this nightmare had no end
yet here you are, holding my hand
together with our friends

the sun is out again
the flowers bloom a lovely sight
and though it didn’t seem like it
everything turned out alright

AAAAAAAAA!!
LAUGHTER!
RAINBOWS!
SUNSHINE!
KITTENS!!

I AM SMILING!!!
DEFINITELY!!

NOT LYING!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

my brain,
it wants to make.
to invent,
to compose,
to configure,
to create,
all it wants to do is make.

as for me,
i want to be happy.
but i am not so foolish,
and i am not so wise,
so i study,
for good grades,
and blanket myself
in more lies.

"college isn't necessary",
is this some kind of joke?
"money can't buy happiness",
well i'd rather not be broke

but what hope is to worry
when i'm not in control?
why bother planning for futures
if we dont know how they'll unfold?

as with regret comes pain,
an inescapable pain.
but it is not "if", but "what."
how will life decide to play?
do i listen to my logic or to my gut,
will i die tomorrow or today?

as for me,
well,

my brain,
it wants to make.
to invent,
to compose,
to configure,
to create,
all i want to do is make.

incorrect, inconsiderable, invalid
by default, i am the bad guy.
all my efforts, sacrifices, and pain
goes nowhere
and is nothing.

the tear stains on my glasses
are simply "completely fake"
and all i feel is plastic
despite the "excuses" that i "make"

so what change would prove you?
will bloodshed give proof?
will breakage give proof?
will brains give proof?
will brawn?
of course not!

for proof is only what's tangible
because you monsters can't feel pain
your intentions are not for justice
but only for personal gain

but when say such things out loud
you tell me i'm wrong,
incorrect, inconsiderable, invalid
the list just goes on-

shut up!

for this is the reality YOU have created,
and you are not running away from it itself,
but the consequences that it brings

and my, you are a wonderful runner
and i'm tired of chasing you

but you'll wear out, eventually
you'll admit it, eventually
you'll apologize, eventually

and you'll get back up

and start running again, eventually
and there'll be nothing else i can do but chase you again, eventually

and i'll catch you, "eventually"
because good always wins over evil,

so the true question is,
in the gaslight eyes of fate,

who is who?

there's beauty in the flowers
there's beauty in the trees
there's beauty in the showers
and the great blue seas

but then it reminds me of you
and now it's ugly again

the pollen makes me sneeze
the leaves block out the sun
the coldness makes me wheeze
your face ruined the fun

stupid, stupid!
when will you know?
that "do you like me"
is a ******* yes-or-no!

a black and white,
nothing in between.
but your answer, oh my,
was the nastiest gray i've ever seen!

"not now", what's what supposed to mean!?
what was I supposed to do?
your lack of emotion made me want to scream,
why did i fall in love with you?!

they say love is beautiful,
the reward of life.
but **** this ****!
i'd rather die.

than to live with this feeling,
to swat it away, like flies
but then it comes back,
and i must tell myself more lies

lies that i hate you,
lies that you're bad,
they hurt so much
because you were all I ever had.

your smile was my sunlight,
your laughter was a cool breeze,
you kept me up at night,
yet i knew you'd never love me

so to rid myself of this burden
i must cancel it out
but if you're still out there,
if you're thinking about me too,
please don't ever know
that i still love you.

please, dont take my home
please, dont take my friends
dont take away my happily ever after
as after that is when the story ends

a miracle,
the jackpot,
the peak of all possible luck
if i were to have it taken away
then why did i even give a ****?

has all my pain gone worthless?
has all my anguish turned void?
does anything i do even matter anymore,
or is my fate one to be toyed?

so let me stay!
let me be!
i dont want to go!
i dont want to leave!

so many other people are begging for change
yet change has happened to me!

people are ironic

when you have none, you are lonely
a silent, unforgiving world

but when there are tons...

you are still lonely.
a noisy, unforgiving world

and in the end, no one really loves you
no one really knows you
they just sit there
on their pedestals
more pillars to compare yourself on

because there is strength in numbers
and my god, you really ****

so stay lonely
lonely and happy
because the game of life
is best played solo
because no matter what,
you have always won

If you ask where's my house
I'd give you my address
But if you ask where's my home
I'd fall into in your arms

what should one feel
when after so,
so,
so,
long-
they come back to see
that nothing has changed?

is it truly my intention
to find calamity
from dormancy?

or is it correct to be of deep concern
that what i have lived for
has died long,
long,
long,
ago?

does the walking corpse need say more
when it's last words have already been uttered?
or is the second chance worthless,
when it is destined to wander lifelessly forever?

what am i to be truly afraid of?
the change, or the possibility it brings?

if the standstill of my home
no longer welcomes me with delight,
then is it really home anymore?
or am i whining too much,
for it has never actually changed?

the abundance of change
terrified me.
but now that it is gone...

i am yearning for it.
and i do not know why.

go back to work.
do not waste time.

sleep is worthless.
do not waste time.

here is more work.
do not waste time.

you cannot run.
it will end you.
do not waste time.

work is everything.
your feelings don't matter.
do not waste time.

who are you without work?
correct.
you are no one.
you are nothing but work.

do not waste time.

or time will waste you.

humans brag until
the tree is larger than their
house, and falls on them

need not worry,
microscopic one.

for that in the end,

you are like a pineapple.

before, people rented you out
as table centerpieces for parties

but now, you are 98¢
at the local Aldi's

they said it was hard, not impossible
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
but does it look like i have the energy for that?

boredom: byproduct
of keeping our mouths shut. trapped
by illusion: time

home is lie that was made by the government
that they put in photos and show in the screens
white picket-fences, sunlit rooms,
because in the end you come home to nothing
homeless, homeless,
lonely again.

"lying is bad",
they say

"lying makes you a bad person"
they say

but who is to assume
that I haven't been lying
about being a good one?

i'm quite the mask-maker then, aren't i?

i sworn i saw the
surface of the moon. Alas,
'tis but my **** face.

speaking is a performance
the moment someone listens i'm put on a stage
with a little number in the corner of my view
grading my performance
grading how well i do

so when the audience goes home
and they all fall asleep
it leaves just my mirror and I
and the clock that reads three
practicing,
practicing,
just talking
to me

and though i ramble and ramble
as if someone were there
i enjoy that i am alone
that no one is there
to hear the last mistake i just made
:)







....................









oh my god were you listening to me the entire time-

it's over.
we did it.
school is finally dead.
you sleep at 4
and wake up at 3
paradise, as paradisiacal as it can be
just why, though
why am i still unhappy?

I've always desired to become older
to become stronger, more experienced, more alive,
so that they would listen
so that my pain would have meaning
so that every time I cried it was worth making a noise

but here I am.

the migraines last longer.
my patience runs shorter.
if a sleep a moment past two I fall apart-
I am weak.
and haven't improved the slightest since then.
I can work a million years and run a million miles,
chasing those dreams and the warmth of their fleeting joy,
but I'll always come back to you,
my stupid,
original self.
because no one cares if a baby were to cry,
such a thing is normal.
your pain is normal; there are those who have it worse
therefore I will ignore you, as you are worthless,
and I lose none when you are in pain.
I have nothing left to bargain,
to make you feel the need to care,
you looked behind the curtain,
you know me too well.

My lies no longer enchant you.
You know how worthless I am.

And so here I am,
sitting in square one
with tears that pass by discreetly,
falling in their silence.

never grow up
just learn more
and be nice
you’ll become a lot wiser then

i do not remember my name.
who i was, or from where i came
lost at sea
a sea of other forgetfuls
grey,
numb,
devoid of light
lifelessly ambiguous
yet black and white

listlessly wandering
to nowhere, from nothing

life has not been easier,
i have only felt more numb
and feel nothing but pain
therefore feel nothing

humidity or tears?
the ink streaks of red are streaks of blood
both have become worthless;
its value inflated;
i no longer come up to breathe

i don't care where we go when we die,
as long as its away
somewhere warm, somewhere lovely,
somewhere with the light of day

yet here i lay every night
dreaming of the dream
dreams wild
dreams stupid
dreams that will never come true
those dreams have chained me
and now i am here

prisoner of my own dreams
who is to save me?

A link,
a loading sign,
amazement.
Such beauty, such eloquence
words i've never heard, yet always knew
it pulls strings of the heart
that i was never aware of
that such beauty, such eloquence
could from a name i've  never heard, but always knew
that i, like them, can become beautiful too.
For this is my piece
that i am to submit.
but i need not worry that it is the best,
for it will not be my burden,
it will not be my end.
As it will not define me,
only begin.