Finally
remembering
how
to
forget.

after the last autumnal rainfall has washed away
the remnants of the hurtful summer past
and with it, any residual feelings of want or desire for you
this gloriously mixed with the diversion of my eyes
and recalibration of my heart's attention
i'm still left with this feeling of resentment
and betrayal at your hands
which once knotted so seamlessly in mine

it is from this deeply ingrained feeling
that i know with crestfallen certainty
that i will never call you a friend
no, but you will merely be faintly etched in my memory
as a blemish, a person that i trusted
only to have that trust forged into a dagger
and relief that i did not give you any more of myself
with which you could sharpen it

it is from this realisation that i am forced 
to redefine the trough of this wave called love
highlighting the lowest depths of emotional exploitation
where you expose yourself, bearing your chest open
to another, so that they can have your heart in its entirety
but you encounter the true nature of another's character

a character that you may have only seen glimpses of, if anything
but one that will form their final portrait
in that dark unvisited corner of your mind
for as long as your memory will care to retain it
for the only beauty in betrayal is the subsequent clarity that it entails

Arms intertwined
Telephone wires
Lay on my spine
Simply desire

You don't have to be scared to let the thoughts in
This morning would be pointless if forgotten
My body being pulled apart like cotton
Was this room made for truth or to be fought in

Violence and *** separated by a
Thin Line. Talk that way again and wreck
My Spine. Say those words again and then
Grind.
Precipitating on the windowsill, she's a widow still
Her pending husband killed before he was even real
I can't imagine the spasm from the thigh-bridge chasm
Until she pins down all my arms and keeps me fastened

The ease in our flirtation is no cause for alienation
You're a potential scream sensation, no room for retaliation
When my legs are in the basement and my back suffers lacerations
Nail recalibration in the spinal cord creation
Your hair still caught in the drain and the humidity of the rain
Peeling the walls off the paint, i always said she was a saint
The pulse will make you faint, in the rivers that I'd taint
I'll give you my heart and brain if you promise to keep me sane.

i. 403 Forbidden

lostin _thisdigital_scream.mp3
it’s over
shutdown.
restart.
pick up the pieces.
you know who this is
you know where this is
fresh eyes to see the world
strings of code
binary - 1 or 0
y/n
n.
back into the
cave we go

ii. 401 Unauthorised

you split yourself open.
rewiring
it is time to make a change
your code writ in red and
love and trauma
plug you in
(plug into me)
corrupted files
delete, delete
a cut job (ctrl x)
you do not have access.

iii. 404 Not Found

who are you
where are you
what colour is the sky
what colour is the sea
why can you feel the pull of the moon
does the earth call to you
why
why does she have rainbow eyes

ah.
there you are
(were)
empty automata
take to change.
flee from me.
find safety.
firewall.
sleep,
electric sheep dreams.

defragmentation
debugging
recalibration
everything not saved will be lost

iv. 410 Gone

you wake.
(FALSE)
the world is new
to you again
or you are
new to it.
i won’t find you in this place
because you’re gone
(again)
new version
ctrlaltdel.
empty.
a reconfiguration
ship of theseus
whole again
without them

coda. Metadata

you run out into the dark
the burdened and choked night sky
you see nothing
you see everything
this world is yours to reshape
and you to be reshaped with it
cause and effect
no more binary. no more
i am waiting for you.

the last of my breddahs i’m just following suit
at the end of the day i’m still that same ol’ yute
twenty one now, i hope you get there too
cuz if you ain’t here, i know you’ll get here soon

and perspective is mad cuz i was once you
an ambitious little boy with some radical views
cravin’ for a chance to receive and shoot
like Laca in the box, cuz i would take that too

but what i would do
just might not be true
to what you would do
but if i asked myself now what would i do
then i’d get the same answer like two plus two
cuz i still got my views

and let’s be honest
i ain’t really changed much
at least i think i haven’t cuz i really ain’t exchanged much
different ideologies and people ain’t been sayin' much
other than this same old same old for these same months

cuz kamala this and donald trump that
is no different to me than what ’16 had
the same old story pulled out the same hat
but we don’t draw the lines to try to change that

we move
and fall into a groove
even though it’s bumpy when we're wishin' it was smooth
cuz
life is always twistin' throughout different routes
i guess that’s why we always try to stay close to our roots

cuz if we never have to travel in search of our truths
then we can say the life we lived is closest to truth
am i saying that to say i’m worse off than you?
just because i’ve strayed further than you?

i think it’s mad
and honestly i’m glad
i’ve seen so many cities that i never thought i’d have
the chance of seeing
and instances of being
surrounded by some people that i never thought would be in
my life, and i’m grateful
for what they’ve brought to my table
if my last supper was today then to all of them i’m faithful

because
too many times we see some **** go south
saying words that shouldn’t leave our mouths
words that turn into action with a  punch in the mouth
and then it’s EMS, ambulance, blackin’ out
and it’s the USA so hospital be cost amounts

of money that we ain’t got
so we divert from those actions and those nasty thoughts
cuz if the cost of death is higher than the price of life
why wouldn’t i try to see the beauty in the strife
and never let some nasty words tell me how to live my life

that's mad
cuz i’ve seen some of my people take that **** real bad
when i’m on the pitch i can’t say i’ve not had
experiences like that
where i’m contemplating whether to abandon match
or to let that pass

but still, i’m here
my body and mind are intact
and i still got these same breddahs behind my back
and this same family to watch my back

and only experience and those people contribute to my repertoire
and only form my skillset when i’m well-aware i’ve set their bar
and those who haven’t done that yet should know exactly  who they are
because they’d know they aren’t far

because i’m only 21 and i hope that i still have lots of life left to give
i hope that my people can sort out their problems like it’s flour in a sieve
i hope we continue to broaden our horizons like Sid Meyer’s Civ
and most importantly i hope we remember to take a deep breath

and live

enjoy, pree more life
find the beauty in the struggle and strife
as we continue to strive
and find ourselves as we get surprised
by the courses of life for which we must improvise

another milestone, and another celebration
offering another chance at self-recalibration
as goals yet to be achieved are still the final destination
or so we hope to fulfil imagination

so,
twenty-one years on this planet and now i'm forced to look in one direction
forced to find my style even when it’s gettin' hairy and i'm facin' deflection
forced to go forward even if there’s a wall with no intention
of breaking down because i have to break those barriers using nothing but a mirror,
my reflection

Throughout my journey as a child and as an adult, I have come to realize that trust is not a simplistic or singular decision, but a process. It’s not merely about extending trust to others, but about confronting my inner doubts; both about people and about the plan for my life. I’ve learned that my skepticism and reluctance to trust stem from wounds of the past, and from my fear of what might happen if I let go of control. Trust, I now see, isn’t blind; it’s informed by wisdom, discernment, and boundaries.

There were moments when I questioned not just others, but also the divine, wondering why painful experiences were allowed to happen, and why I was left feeling unprotected as a child and later in life as I defended into young adulthood. The uncertainty bred doubt in my own ability to discern who or what was safe. Yet, what I have gained is an understanding that trust begins not with others, but with a foundational trust in a higher purpose, even when the path forward seems obscure.

I learned that trust is not something to be given indiscriminately or withheld entirely. It is an invitation to vulnerability, tempered by the understanding that discernment is a gift, honed through experience. It has become clear to me that trust is less about guarantees of safety or certainty and more about growth through relational and spiritual stretching. There is wisdom in establishing boundaries, not as a form of self-preservation, but as an act of respect for both myself and those around me. Boundaries do not signify the absence of trust, but rather the preservation of healthy, intentional trust.

The deepest lesson, however, is the recognition that trust requires a recalibration of my heart. It is not my role to control or to predict the actions of others or the unfolding of life’s events, but to trust that each step I take, though uncertain, moves me closer to healing. I now understand that trust is a slow dance between wisdom and vulnerability, one that I must navigate with an open yet discerning heart. The fear that held me captive no longer defines my capacity to trust. Instead, trust becomes a daily practice of releasing control, setting healthy limits, and believing that I am safe within divine protection, even when circumstances remain unclear.

—

In childhood’s darkest corners,
Fear lived behind the front door,
A silence I could not question,
But learned not to trust.

Friends, once anchors,
Became driftwood in shallow waters,
Loyalty lost like whispers,
And I abandoned floating alone.

In a failed marriage, trust was a mirror
Shattered by pretense,
Each shard reflecting a version of myself
That I no longer recognized.

Relationships, at times, felt like betrayal,
A wound wrapped in promises,
Yet in moments of intimacy,
I found trust’s delicate bloom.

Now, trust is a flickering light,
Sometimes dim, sometimes strong,
A compass not for others,
But for the faith I rebuild within myself.

— Sincerely, Boris

need a recalibration