Scroll through the newsfeed
that feeds anything but your
starving human soul.

Labotomize these thumbs,
they scroll more than they strum.
I don't mean to be dumb,
but I can't respond back so I hum,
and you won't hear me.
No, you can't see the words that I write.
I'm sure you'd only
be tickled,
If you knew that I think of you all night.
Because I can't sleep, love.
And I can only touch me right,
Yeah, that's right.
Just me, love.
Hope I can keep up with this fight.
And I know you don't really care,
and you haven't got some spare
feelings left to share
and if there are, they're barely there.
So drop the pity,
I'm mad you got to hear me whine.
How unsexy.
I'm supposed to just be doing fine.
I'll compartmentalize,
put it in a box and tie it with twine.
while you're liking every post of mine.
I'll compartmentalize.
While I reread your every line.

I’ve never quite lived up to the expectations
that bombard every millennial these days,
the ones knocking and gnawing at my skin
until they find their way in
and search through each crevice in my brain
until they find the right residence to lay their bed
and plant the insecurities that end up
destroying my self-confidence
and gifting me with the inability to succeed
until I have to scrape every piece of residue from the inside-out
just to get myself to a place where I can breathe again.

Yeah, I don’t let those in anymore.

I’ve always been a little bit of a question mark,
a strange child who danced to my own beat,
even when I tried to walk in time with those surrounding,
and there is a small piece of me that -
when a new life event of someone my age
visits my newsfeed -
wants the same, tired story for my own life...
and then I remember
I wasn’t made for this.

Sometimes
I’m not sure what I was made for anymore,
and I just keep waiting and waiting
until it’s my time to be on my own,
or catch my heart on fire,
or simply take a step forward,
and, yet, it
never
happens.

There are things I know about myself
that I will never explain,
and I shouldn’t have to.
I have a key-shaped hole in my soul
that aches to find its perfect fit,
but I’m not allowed to twist it yet,
though my fist has been ready for years,
and all I can do in the meantime
when someone asks me
why
is answer with one simple phrase
that stings each time it passes through my lips:

*It’s not my time yet.

People come into your life as
Quickly as they come, never
Staying for long there are
Cases where they do stay,
Your closest friends, your
Best friends, your loved
Ones
But others just disappear and
Leave completely, dropping out
Of your life never talking to you
Again, lost connections of how
You became friends, the shared
Stories, secrets, good times
And memories. All you have now
Is seeing random Facebook
Statuses of you with new
Friends or Instagram selfies
With tons of new people
Do you remember us being
Friends?
If I sent a text, a message
Anything would you answer?
Would you talk to me again?
If I done wrong can I right it?
Can we be friends again?
Or am I just a random Facebook
Status popping on your newsfeed
And nothing else

after years of being told how good my body was
i went through puberty.

after years of being asked how much time i spent at the gym
i grew hips
and disconcerting  looks from grown men who thought my fifteen year old thighs were too thick to be sexualized.

after years of wearing sundresses
and being applauded for being the first girl in my grade to grow *****
my metabolism slowed down
and i was made to feel like a cowbell in the least practical sense of the word.

i was thirteen and hunched over a porcelain toilet bowl when i told my friend i had purged and she called me gross as if it wasn't because of feeling "gross" that i was there to begin with.

and i'd grown used to my good-gened friends with their tiny waists and size 32 jeans telling me they wanted to join a gym in hopes i'd run along and lose some weight.

because when i was 13 and weighed little enough to turn heads i felt empty while looking whole.

and when you're fat you can't have an eating disorder, because illness can be seen so how good of a job my ana was doing depended solely on how faint i felt by midday.

in a world where nobody buys magazines it's easy to pretend we don't care for skinny bodies anymore, but when every smartphone is linked to an instagram page and every newsfeed is filled with "slim thick baddies" you can't help but wonder.

if i were to feel physically full why am i so empty?
i cheated myself.
she probably went and cheated on me because my body wasn't slim-thick enough to eat.

and it's easy to say this doesn't apply to me when you see the pictures on the beach but you don't see me scrolling through pinterest at 2 in the morning looking at "How To Lose 10 kgs in 3 Days" posts.

if i were so lucky i'd be a success story and could probably post before and after pictures of my body but you can not hear the ache in my belly screaming at me that it'd rather just be cut off.

when i was fourteen i could no longer wear shorts in public because grown men with wives would turn and watch my thighs clip-clap together as i walked with my dad.
i was asking for it.
i resented summer and the fact that i'd run out of clean pairs of jeans to sweat in.

but if i dare love myself, what then? do i apologise to the girlfriends of the boys who visit me for coffee? do i drink coke light with my whiskey? do i start writing poetry?

Why do we ignore all these spoken words?

We've had
poets,
rappers,
artists,
and actors
tell us as
it were.

Now I, myself, have spit one or two verse
and I need to let you know  I will be heard.*

You call for a social media blackout and
there they sit thinking, " How absurd!"

But when it comes down to it
what do you do when there is
no reaction* to your tear-filled  words?

Is it because we have adapted to being so passive,
when there's ****, murders, lynchings, and theft
we just take it in passing?

Or is it because we can look the other way,
when the hands of a white man
take the life of a different ethnicity away?

Is it in relation to power?
We close our eyes
and pray.
But where is the action
for justice in this final hour?

What is it that you do to help this land?
Other than observe and comment snidely
on your fellow man?

It is no tragedy for a loss of life?
While you ponder your "newsfeed"
via social media
via your Iphone
via your wifi
....
Consider the point when you lost touch with real life.

25...
When you were a kid you thought that you would be married by now
Have it all figured out
The career
The home
The car
The kids
Now you're here and *******...
Do we ever really figure it out?
Adulting is hard
Your Facebook feed is filling up with engagements and baby announcements
but your reading the newsfeed in the liquor isle of Safeway
Beer or wine tonight? Hmm maybe *****?
"Psh who wants to be a boring married couple"
That's what you think to yourself
Trying to convince yourself that it's okay
Drown out that little voice in your head saying "you're gonna be alone forever"
It's like walking on a tightrope
One side you have it together and the other side you still might as well be that 21 year old college student ordering shots at the bar
If someone has this figured out- hit a homie up
Until then, I'm just doing me and I guess I'm doing fine

I miss being on ur Page.
I miss the tags.
I miss u on my newsfeed.
I jus miss us.
I guess im used to it now.
Iv missed it so much..

Blessed be the civil war
brewing in the newsfeed
I just hope both teams
have fun

If it’s not our bodies tryna **** us,
It’s confirmation bias
with a gun

Cause we live in a society
stranger than satire
Doomscrollin’ infinity
For the next dumpster fire

If all the world’s a stage
Then my anxiety
is a crisis actor
When all the world’s enraged
I’m screamin’ CLASS WAR
in the theater

Blessed be these antidepressants
With side effects like
suicidal ideation

Heaven left all thoughts and prayers on read
Now thats what I call
getting holy ghosted

Full send to divine abandonment
In a digital sea
of arrogance

Your favorite God is smashing
The laugh reaction
While the body count rises
Achievement unlocked: death to empathy

Is this ******* play about us
Or are we all just NPC?
Cursed with Main Character Syndrome,
Glitching out behind the scenes-
playing the victim
Is the origin of your villain

Cause we live in a society
Stranger than satire
Doomscrollin’ infinity
For the next dumpster fire
Just to tell everyone you’ve been enlightened

The saying goes
"It takes 21 days to make or break a habit"
but it's been 71 and I've yet to even crack the surface on this one
I made a routine out of pretending to be stronger than what
I pretended you made me into, and that was weak.
I created a pattern in my head and brought it to life:
you were the reason I was this way and here is why:
what we had was a habit,
I'll spare the details because they're just as boring as the same series I've been watching on Netflix for a month without a purpose.
***, fight, make up, ignore problems, watch tv, sleep and eat ****** food, more ***.
You could smell the latex for two years before we stopped using a ****** and taking that risk became routine.
We knew all the answers to jeopardy but we kept watching and I think that's because we tried to pretend that we didn't know things that we already did
and look where it led.

It was a habit.
It was comfort after a week of routines we led separately but somehow over the course of three years never talked about deeply.
"How was school?"
Out of habit I say "okay"
How was work? "slow"
"I don't care what we order"
"Just pick something"
"Do you want to have ***?"
"Can you push over?"
"Who are you texting?"
"why do you always do this?"
"Are you finished being mad yet?"
"I need you in my life, please don't leave"

As humans we crave stability but do not know that what it brings instead is a suffocating cycle that should not feel so permanent at nineteen and twenty


So when we broke up I made a habit out of checking up on you
made a pattern out of blaming you for not wanting to leave my bed,

two whole months later.

What they don't tell you about habits is that 21 days is not enough to break down walls that held you in place for 956 days, even if you weren't very happy,
at least you were warm and at least you had something there to remind you that you always had something to fall back on,
even if it was weighing down your shoulders,
even if it would crack around you one day.

I made a habit out of projecting the blame onto others too,
like saying "would crack around you" one day.
Like I was warning others that love is not forever and to be cautious who you let inside your walls because I did not want to see you there inside when they fall,
when they really fell around me
and two months later,
it's a habit to still check in to make sure you're happy.
Scrolling your newsfeed though you have me blocked, I'm sure you know I do it anyway so you routinely make yourself look better than ever, satisfied in all that you have and I hope you are that way,  I really do
5 days a week in a factory coming home to microwave noodles and a small love seat is not ideal but it's comforting.
And so we accept these facts and allow ourselves to repeat
all we want sometimes is comfort, we don't even need to be happy if we have a place to sleep.

it is still a routine to forget about taking care of my self because that takes away time from caring for you and selfish is one word I never strive to be so I spend my days remembering all the things we repeated over and over.

I will always blame you because it is so hard not to.

I hope one day I don't.

Some days I try and make a habit out of pretending I'm angry with you when in all actuality I miss the stability of calling someone mine.
I don't know why I do this thing where I pretend like I didn't love you as much as I did,
as much as I do. Still.
I guess it's a habit because I have so much to live up to;
this "hard girl" image isn't easy, you know, but for 71 days it's what I've come to know is what I need to move on maybe half as fast as you did.
Maybe I wasn't a routine for you because I know you well enough to know you were stuck in your ways for longer than 21 days so many times and it was not easy to break through them.
Maybe I was different.
I think I loved you a lot more and that's why I have pages of words,
and bags of glass bottles,
I've made a routine out of this and you have done absolutely nothing.


21 days?
That's absurd.
I just let 21 days pass without trying to even move on

what happens if you don't want to break the habit?
I'm sorry, what happens if I don't want to break the habit?
What if I miss it?
What if I want it back although that habit is far gone and moved on?


What do I do now but blame that habit for my lack of motivation now as my fingers wear out the paint on the keyboard of this computer and I blame you for my weight gain and inability to stop drinking even though you told me never to start in the first place because you know I have an addictive personality and it's so hard for me to
break habits?

Once I get started on a new one I'm sure I will be fine.
they say it only takes 21 days, anyway.

i wanna be a ******* superstar
on the late night news.
i want front page all to myself;
an old-fashioned penny-dreadful
surrounded by fairytales,
and auto-accidents!
i wanna pop up on that *******’s
newsfeed.

beauty is pain, not old-age like
the morgue extras. so lacerate my
ugly face, force lead wishes
into my skin like botox for prey,
and draw up my modeling contract
where i fall…

i wanna be the femme-fatale
that no-one wanted to save…
the star he couldn’t bare
to finish… the star he
meant to make me in to.

i never wanted to be one of those girls who ******* about their ex
and i guess i'm still not
because we were never even in a relationship
you asked
i said no
because you were weird
and kinda creepy
and obnoxious
and you hated me
for a really
long
time
afterward...
but
you have always
made sure
whenever you
you got into a relationship
to text me
and let me know
that SOMEONE wanted you
and every time
i tell you
i don't give
a ****...
at that moment, it's true.
but when you burst through my newsfeed on facebook
like someone exploded a firecracker in my face
rather indecorously
and i scroll through all your pictures
with that girl you claim to love so much
in all sorts of cute, make-me-puke positions
i feel really
alone
and like i'm the one
who was unwanted.

i don't really know if i regret my decision...
you seemed to get
un-weird
as time went on
and admittedly,
hotter...
i guess i am not jealous
in the sense that i want you
but in the sense that i want what you have...
Tim,
i somehow feel jipped by you
cheated
used
left for dead
even though
i am the one
who rejected you
for something better
i am the one
who is still
alone...

karma is
the worst of *******

i am the 1 am drunk text
i am the family pictures popping up on  your newsfeed
i am the polaroid at the bottom of your desk drawer
i am the modern baseball song that you can't seem to skip
i am the candy wrappers in your car door
i am the cd stuck in your car radio that is just me singing a song i never should have written for you
i am the way a dorm room bed is always just big enough
i am the draft of a poem that was never just right

and

you are the space between the lines of the poems that aren't fixing anything
you are the dried up corsage in the back of my closet
you are the third step on the stairs into the basement where i swear i can still see stains of mascara on the carpet from november 8, 2015
you are the post card i never sent
you are the post card i sent but never should have
you are the phone calls i can't make
you are the nightmares i have where we are both running from something not clear to us


now that i've set the scene are you sure you want to delete your audition tape?
are you sure that your first try was good enough?

You see and then connect
From rebound to rebound, it’s all in your head
these broken souls, and misfortunate events
are completely suppressed, once you take them to bed
trapped in a body of sinful debt
the beast accepts weak minds, cash and credit
The walk of shame has evolved into respect
Pictures of every person that has touched your lips
crowds your newsfeed
just like your esteem
Because a connection now is nothing more than
false affection, redirection, and copious rejection

I've never been one to read too heavily into signs,
But Good God you have been everywhere these last few weeks,
Except where you should be,
Which is out of mind.

To begin I see your face every time I happen to see my best friends Facebook page
(He's the man you're now dating).
There you are, staring and smiling right back at me,
Happy as I could ever have hoped you could be.

Then of course he commented on some post you made so it gets put in my newsfeed.
It's just so strange all the places in which you are appearing.

Before that I had a dream where you had the same habit of appearing
In all those places that you least should be,
And despite my best efforts to evade you,
My luck - which normally runs exceedingly to the good -
Found the propensity for tremendously letting me down,
Rounding every last corner to find you already there.
Regardless how long we've been broken up, you've decided to comeback and haunt my sleep.

Next was an injection of even more instability into the already unsteady,
As my now ex-girlfriend talked to my best friend - yes, again, the man you're now dating -
And upon hearing how well things are going between you two
Realized just how unstable, just how rocky, things were between her and me
(And just so you remember, you two used to be friends before everything,
Back before you and I had started dating).
So now she decides to approach this subject, something to me seemingly out of left field...
A tear-filled, weepy approach, and she had trouble trying to vocally broach the subject,
That is, all up until once I figured out it was you, it made perfect sense on the heels
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                       Of that dream.

To cap off all the unreality of your presence in a life
That is otherwise utterly free of you - or at least that's how it should be -
Came only a short while ago... once again, completely out of the blue.
I was searching on Facebook for my buddy Johnny, though I think he's now going by John,
So I figured
                     John would do.
When the results came up, what the hell, holy crap, this is too bizarre to be truth,
Johnson came up as the first result I might be looking for - yup, that's you -
Someone I'm not even friends with on this social media nightmare,
Strange that it wasn't one of half dozen or so friends named Johnny or John.
No, it was you.

It might be finally time to take this to a psychiatrist, because,
As stated before, this ****'s getting too bizarre to be true.
Leave me in peace and leave my mind alone.
You've gotten your final revenge as the girl who replaced you and I have finally broken.
Things between us are over and I'm single,
While you are happily off at school in a budding relationship.
What must I do to rid myself of you, to be free of you
As you are obviously free of me?

You're most likely asleep and dreaming peacefully at this moment
While I sit here awake under one dim lamp wondering and writing about you,
Wondering if I actually want sleep, hesitant that it might bring no respite,
Rather only more thoughts of you, whereas you are free of me.

She felt a pang in the pit of her stomach
Like getting punched hard in the gut
Because there was his picture in her newsfeed
Again smiling at the camera like he used to
Smile only for her

Six months, seven months, ten months gone
It's stupid and pointless to miss him.
Like the Ring of Fire he won't be back
In this life time even though she never
Even got a deep look at him

But loath curse love those firsts
Those scars that fade with time
But never totally disappear
Even when no one else can see them
They'll always be there

let me be her
that girl;
the one you have to block from your newsfeed because even the sight of me; even the thought that I still walk around unfazed burns your skin
I wanna be that girl that you see walking on Queen West and think:
“that will be the girl I starve myself for”
I strive to be that girl who tears out all your organs and pickles them in jars,
your kidneys and spleen and gall bladder –
and shelves them on display for all to see
“these are all the hearts I’ve stolen
are you sure you want to climb into my bed?”
I am that girl whose shampoo you buy and sniff in between gulps of Jameson
I am the girl whose grin makes your bones shatter
I am the girl whose eyes make your whole body dissolve into a river,
and then you’re swept away by my laughter
finally I’ll get to be the one who ruins all your favourite places for you
I’ll be the one who makes you put barriers up, guards and gates around your heart to prevent its inevitable breakage
I’ll get to be that girl who makes you weep at the thought of anyone else loving you
I will be her
that is my goal
I don’t want to be that girl who extends her pinky and then her hand and then her arm and then is thrown forward into your arms and is held by no one when you leave
I can’t be that girl who spins tales of you and me and my cousin’s wedding or you and me, doing the lap dance from Death Proof for you, or you and me smiling for a picture in front of an aquarium with the hashtag #thisguy
I am no longer that girl who becomes a ghost when you don’t say a word to me
I am not that girl who tells you how cute you are and how ******* smiley I am when I see you
I am not that girl who gets left
no,
this time:
I get to disappear
I get to walk away and leave you for an Asian guy (girl)
I get to unfollow you on Instagram because looking at pictures of you at the ocean makes me feel guilty
I get to be pretend that I am unharmed;
that I lit the fire but I’m not becoming ashes
I get to have people tell me they want to take me out for coffee, or sit by the water, or hold my hand at that ******* aquarium
I’m that girl now –
her:
the one your fear most
because I am
a caterpillar,
a peacock,
a fox,
and you are the forest floor,
and the desert sand,
and the thinnest branch,
and I will walk all over
and break you.

I'll often go on Facebook
to while away the time
my friends are there,
we have a laugh
share music, pics and "smiles"

but lately things are changing
there's trouble in the air
with ugly hearted bigots
posting hatred everywhere.

I will not hate my fellow man
how ever hard they try
I really couldn't give a ****
if the blushing bride's a guy!

I will not fear a Muslim,
nor any other creed
they're not all bad, they're not all good
They've done nothing to me

So a word to all you fascists
please take your evil deeds
and stick them where the sun don't shine
not on my newsfeed!

You and me,
what do we see?
Is it just a newsfeed,
or a platform from which I can speak?
Or a healthy host to spread disease?
Or something inconvenient like a nosebleed?
I should be reading about Meiosis,
or following a dream.
But I'm here at this desk
staring at this screen.
And I'm blank
and in pain,
and totally not serene.
Is it okay to not know what I mean?

jesus christ
that's exactly it
it kind of bothers me
its closed minded
closed grouped
i have no one
nothing there
it bothers me,
because im once again looking only at the good
not the bad
just please stop showing
up in my newsfeed.

Litrato mo na ba ang susunod kong makikita?
Hawak ang kamay nya,
may ligaya sa ngiti mo habang inaalalayan sya papalabas ng dambana?

Larawan niyo na ba ang susunod kong makikita sa newsfeed ng aking social media?

Ang umani ng maraming likes at puso galing sa iba?

Larawan niyo na ang susunod kong makikita,
magkalapat ang mga labi at marahang pinikit ang mga mata.

Larawan nyo na ba? Ang susunod kong makikita sa primary nyo tuwing lilitaw ang mga pangalan nyo.

Larawan nyo na ba?

Ang magpapaalala sakin ang sarap magmahal,
kapag sya ang kasama kasi pinaglaban mo sya,
na parang sya lang ang mimahal mo ng ganyan.

Bibilang din ba ako ng isa,
dalawa,
tatlo.
Hangang makarating ako saan?
Ilan? 

Sabihin mo, hanggang ilan?
Hanggang kelan?
Hindi ako magaling sa numero tulad nya dahil yun ang propesyon nya, pero alam ko..

Hindi natatapos ang numero at kung matatapos man,
hindi ako sigurado kung kelan.

We get it ok,
You're "in love"
Whatever that means,
Flamboyantly displaying PDA across my Facebook newsfeed,
Great,
For you,
But seriously,
Give me a break,
For I got no arm to hold, no kiss to have, no compliments to receive,
Or a "Baby I miss you,"
Yeah that's not for me,
I watch it everyday and wonder why I'm not this way,
Probably because the rhythms in my heart are not as dysfunctional,
I can get on without a "I love you"
For that's like ropes or more like chains on my ankles,
But I don't mind waiting…
Just tired of watching of every so called friend fall to love,
When I'm resistant to all it's evils,
Maybe because I know how evil it can really be,
How attachment strikes the heart and turns a person into one neurotic zombie,
Barely even living,
I say life alone is more worth preserving,
And heartbreak is not worth having,
I feel more easy to breath with just me

I couldn’t get out of bed today,
my homework from yesterday lays unfinished,
eyeliner smeared on my eyelids
because I couldn’t perk up the motivation
to even wash my face last night.
But, as I scroll down my Facebook newsfeed,
I wonder if I’m doing depression wrong.
Four statuses about how people “can’t take anymore,”
two selfies of themselves crying,
a picture of someone’s cuts.
Each post filled with supportive comments,
of how things with get better if they keep trying.

I used to weigh eighty pounds,
the enamel on my teeth is eroded
from heaving up the heaviness haunting me
every second after I ate.
I hear girls talking about how they “wish”
that they had an eating disorder
so boys will carry them around,
so they’ll have a thigh gap.
Every time it causes a relapse,
and I don’t feel as perfect as people say I should
when I’m laying in a hospital bed.

Though you may claim to be so depressed
because you failed your math test,
or to be completely anorexic
because you skipped lunch today,
this is not mental illness.
Mental illness is
lying to those who love you most
about when the last time you ate was,
wearing long sleeves in the summertime,
failing your favourite classes
because even thinking about all the work gave you panic attacks,
having to bring a list of medications you’ve been on to every doctor’s visit
and explaining what each of the awful side effects did to you.

If you want attention buy a puppy,
call your grandma,
hug your sibling for christ’s sake.
Mental illnesses are not identities to assume
whenever they benefit you.

Someone died on Facebook today
Their Mom updated their status with this whole
Long thing about love and light and hope and stuff
I knew the guy a few times but not a majority of times
If you know what I mean
But now when I check my newsfeed he isn't there
Or his mom's thing he posted isn't there
He's been pushed towards the bottom by a bunch of buzzfeed articles
There's this great Woody Allen bit about death coming for
The wrong person
It's probably not an original Woody Allen idea
But I've always thought Woody Allen was a genius
And I guess I'm willing to admit that genius is a pretty subjective term
But I guess What I'm Trying To Say is that
For a guy who thinks about death so much and about how
It seems to pick on whoever happens by
Woody Allen has made it pretty far
And I'm gonna remember him as a genius anyway
And I know some other people
Are gonna too
But this guy on Facebook is just gonna get pushed to the bottom
Of a bunch of different news feeds
And I know he knew he was dying
And had to think about it all the time
And pushed it to the bottom of his own self
So that he could get through his last days
With a smile and a good morning and really firm handshake (from what I remember)
And no one not even me is gonna call him a genius
And if I wasn't writing this now I probably wouldn't
Ever think about him and his aggressively charming face after a few months time

he's on the news again
all anyone talks about is
how they wish everyone would stop talking about him

i try switching off the radio, the newsfeed, the idle coworker chitchat
dig down to that layer of earth somewhere safe from winter bite but not quite mantle heat
and i bury my head in that goldilocks soil

my mom always said that if you ignore bullies
they go away so my ostrich head incubates
among the worms until i feel like maybe
it's spring and i start to hatch and send
my shoots up toward the sun but
when i wake up everything is
shadow because
he took my silence as invitation and grew and grew and grew
and now there's no room left
not even to breathe

In places underneath or between the rain
Blossoms are budding, suffuse with stalking light
Until the evening drags off towards
a slow, easy death
Each hour an ending in itself, reflected against premonitions of waning chance.

This curse of a spring, supplementing
calm for action, cautions a new spirit of resilience
in, taking with it the attraction of deference
Like the waves that crash at the shipping bay
Now, all is circumstance

I read the newsfeed everyday
as a means of counting against this stifling reassurance.

this time of year is haunted
by *****, and i love every newsfeed
with shiny pictures and i love dressing
up like myself

want to dance with you
and take a chance with you
melt my brain out and drink
then take tomorrow off

i should be waiting for the day when i stop loving you
the day when seeing your **** picture in my facebook newsfeed won't shake my mind like a snowglobe in the hands of a six year old

i should be waiting for the day when i stop waiting for you
the day when i can say yes to a date with a boy who doesn't trace my arms with messages like you did

i should be waiting for the day when i stop being sad
the day when i can go a whole day without a pit in my stomach that no amount of fake smiling, nice dresses, and alcohol can get rid of

but instead i am so scared of stopping
so scared of falling out of love with you

if i can feel this much and just lose it
i dont think love is possible
i dont think love is eternal
i dont think i want to be over you

because i want it to be you
               i want it to be you

I see your name on the side
Of my Facebook newsfeed,
Telling me that you’re online
For the fourth time in half an hour.
I won’t lie.
I click that bookmarked tab
As often as you do,
Just so I can see your name.
I miss the days when
There would always be a notification
Telling me that you were thinking
Of me at that moment.
It’s been more than a month
Since your little chat box
Popped up to say hi.

I deleted your number last Friday
Because I couldn’t bear
To see you in my phone
Under the nickname “Ex.”
But I would recognize it
If I saw it on the screen again.
I want to talk to you
But I won’t make the first move.
You ended us,
So I’m waiting for you
To contact me.
I think you might be
Waiting for me to text first.
You’ve tried to talk to me,
But you did it all wrong.
You always do that.

I was told that you let some emotion out
That first weekend alone.
It made me sad
To think of you with tears in your eyes,
But also relieved,
Because it meant that you did care
About me, after all.
Even just a little bit.
It doesn’t have to be like this.
You didn’t have to let go.
I was there for you,
Holding out my hand
When no one else would.
I’ll still be here,
If you want to come back.
But you won’t even text me first now.
So I will wait until I cannot wait anymore,
Until the urge to talk to you
Becomes so overwhelming
That I contact you first.
Because I always do.

there you go
showing up in my newsfeed
as if I'd be ready to see your face
your smile haunts my heart
and your friendship i still taste

you are dead now
and that is the harsh reality
that sends me to this place
this place where I try so hard to find you

although I know the earth no longer
binds you

was it just too much?

I dont know if I should be regretting those moments with you
At that time, it was everything I wanted...
Surely I thought it was everything you wanted too...
But it seems like our desires were not the same..
All you wanted was ****** pleasure
And all I wanted was spiritual treasure..

Of course, I am healing
Its been months since you left
But I stop my scrolls when I see your picture in my newsfeed
And wonder for awhile, why did it happen?
How did it happen?


I cant say I was possessed
Because I know it was me,
One hidden side of me...
Everything happened so quickly
Now I m just left with a question mark
Did it really happen? Did it really happen?

Then I start searching for evidences
And no, I cant find any..
I deleted them all, our pictures, our conversations, your number...
So can I say it never happened?
Can I just pretend it was all in my head?
Can I just act like everything is okay?
If I say this, will everything be okay?

war is
behind glass
a silver screen
composed of pixels

war is
in movies
muted bombs,
a silent scream

war is
a newsflash
on twitter,
about a country
far, far away

war is
insignificant
easily dismissed

for us.

but for them,

war is losing everyone they love
war is hiding with bated breath
war is a constant ache in their bellies
war is a bleeding throat
war is not being able to protect
war is breathing dust tinged with dried blood

it's not knowing whether the person in front of them will see tomorrow
it's the feeling of ruin when they see their house go up in smoke
it's the taste of blood when they bite their tongue to stop from screaming

war is praying to be able to see the sun rise again the next day

war is not a silver screen
not pixels dancing
not a link on their newsfeed

war is real.