Stories, a frication of yourself put into too words, sketching out a picture of something you wish or knew.

Putting your likes dislikes, hobbies, and emotions into a relatable character.

Not only does the reader fall for one of your characters they fall for the writer.

Writing is an escape, one that is a lot like reading.

You can paint the world a different color with each delicate phrase.

Dipping your paint brush and began to write.

Drawing pictures for the mind, every line, every detail placed precisely on the blank canvas before you.

Bring to life a new world that's captivating ..

New with experiences that some people can't even imagine.

But that's the writer's job, it's our job to bring light onto a different portal, a different reality.

To bring hope to the hopeless, to bring help to the helpless and to change the heart of the angry.



But these are the words of a young writer who has not seen the whole world, who has much to learn, much to grow and much more to be taught.

I spill out the contents of my heart
Every time I flip to a new page in a notebook
I am forced to face my demons
Cut them carefully in half
Let them pour out
Then clean up the blood and guts I've left behind
And the mess I've made
Always turns out to be prettier
Than the process it took to get there
I turn the sting of open wound relatable
My bruises ring purple and black
And I let people touch them
Let them poke at the ugly
So that maybe they can find comfort in knowing
That they aren't theirs
Pain is so attractive
When it isn't yours to wear
When you don't have to carry it around all day on your back
And then tuck it into the same bed as you
It is difficult to drift off at night
When your pain speaks lullabies into your ear
It is impossible to sleep
When your pain wakes you up every five minutes
To remind you of its existence
It is routine
To go through the day and break off parts of it
Hand them to people
So they can find solace
In trying something they'll never know well enough to hate
The salt of it only tastes good for so long
And after a while
It begins to sit uncomfortably
It is so easy
To admire broken teeth
When they aren't in your mouth
So easy
To find scars beautiful
When they aren't on your body
I have gotten used to putting my distress on display
I am used to it bearing it with ease
And my body has become a ******* number 5
For everyone to awe at
The disaster and mess is striking
When it isn't yours to have to put back together
But the appeal is only temporary
And my hands are raw from the cleansing
There is still so much stitching to be done
To keep myself from falling apart completely
I am taking caution
When it comes to opening up
Holding the binding of book by its thread
I am too terrified by the inevitability
Of losing
To spill
Any more
So I am done pouring out
Until I find someone
Who can love me
Empty.

I am sorry I have not been writing..

The thing is, that until now, I've been kept busy with boys who have refused to leave my thoughts like a bad song stuck in my head

The thing is that the song was once good but now it only makes me sad,
the thing is that songs aren't as good when you can't picture someone in the lyrics.

The thing is, that you can only quote John Green to yourself so many times until all the words start to get painfully relatable.
Because "Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than the stories and people we're quoting..."
Because "thats the thing about pain, it demands to be felt"

The thing is that it gets hard to filter your feelings
Because everyone gets tired of not feeling good enough
Because everyone hates a good reason, and a clean break up
Because good and clean makes it hard to be angry
Because sometimes you really need to be angry
Because you cant cure a broken heart in five minutes, you can only lie about your pain tolerance

" You can love someone so much, but you can never love people as much as you'll miss them"
The thing is, that in the morning, I had never felt so empty before, I was not aware I could miss him that much
I think it was better this way, but I think it was worse too

The thing is, I missed out on all the possibilities, well we both did, but I care more
The thing is, It hurts because it mattered
The thing is, I can only pretend to forget

The thing is, I'm tired
The thing is, I haven't written because of him
The thing is, I've written because of him

The things is that there are too many things to say, and not enough courage
Because I'm a **** liar
Because you're a good friend
Because sometimes ****** things happen
Because sometime you cant always come up with a good reason or even a decent excuse, because thats just how somethings are right now and you cant talk yourself out of feelings
Though you sure can try.
The thing is I know I'll get over it, of course I'll get over it
The thing is I can only put so many things into words
Because this has made my head hurt with metaphors and one liners that he simply does not deserve.
Because it feels like I am busting at the seams with phrases that I've been collecting for weeks.
Because its late
Because I am tired
Because My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations.
Because you and I had a rather small infinity

This is the kind of note I hope you all have an addition to..

I think I've come to a realization. Just watched "waking Life" for the first time the other day and I've ALWAYS been super curious about dreams. The many discussions with my roommate Jenay Breden the many talks on deja vu with Ben Masters, and many others, I am open with dreams and like i said very curious and good at asking questions (To me it is kind of wrong because I feel dreams tell A LOT about people so I am getting all this information from someone and they think they are jsut telling me a silly dream that means nothing.) A dream is an opening into your soul and psyche. Its very personal yet can be profoundly universal.. Anyway, I had a strange dream last night: (haha though all dreams are strange)
but the premis of it was a personal moral I feel I had to overcome at this moment in time..

not all dreams are the same, it might not be a moral, but the conquering of a long journey. For example I've had many a re-occuring dream where I would be on a quest and every time I have not completed it but the next time I dremt it I got further. Till one night I will complete it, then not have the dream again..

about half my dreams are scary on all sides of spectrum, from having family in danger, to other dark things.. to monsters, to death, running from someone/thing, to real-life-stuff to not-so-real-stuff, to parkouring in a mansion while my friends and I throw random objects at each other (i know.. what? haha).
Random dreams about things I desire, or fullfilment of life goals (one time I wrote a song on the piano in my dream) or the dream I had about swinging on the vines in the jungle before my bday.
Such as adventure dreams: flying is a huge thing i do in my dreams that I savor each moment of. A very-young-me dream was I was a sto-away on a pirate ship, but it was fun to travel through the maze of hidden spots..
Or maybe other dreams that aren't so much scary, but things I fear happening. Like a boyfriend cheating, or losing money. I mean, we all have these dreams.
My girl Ashleigh was telling me how her and her boy, had a similar dream the same night.
I see random people I know, and people I don't know.. yet
Such as deja vu. Ever since I had the theory a couple years about deja vu being a dream you once had, I have only encountered moments that attest to this.
Almost every deja vu Ive had I remember it being from a dream.. How can your mind know what is going to happen in the future?
We all might have heard that our mind and the universe are one. In many ways you know. examples: positive and negative affirmations, how the way we think spans subconsciously to others (when you're thinking of someone and they all of a sudden call or text you), we are all connected, etc
SO, if the universe IS our mind (and our souls are connected to this unvierse, to each other) and the universe has no time, because how can you put a tangible definition to something intangible, (i also got that from reading "universe in a nutshell" by Sir Steven Hawking).. then the universe/your mind, already knows the many paths your physical self can take in future, past, and present.
But WHY then (always my question:WHY), why then would it want to show you this glimpse into 'the future'...?
I will leave with a lucid dream I had one night:
a re-occuring place in my dreams I've noticed is a housing complex that is many stories tall where many people of many different ages and ethnicities live.
In this particular dream we are being chased not by zombies or aliens but a mix of the two, they look like the creatures from 'I Am Legend'.
I first noticed I was 'just in a dream' when one of them was chasing me up a flight of stairs and i fell, on my **** hands and legs scrambling up I saw it come for me and kept telling myself to 'wake up wake up!' and i might have for a second or two but then right back to sleep. When i realized there was no way out of this and that it was: 'MY dream, i could do what i wanted with what I had' (sound familiar to one's waking life? hmmm) before this whole moment I had run out of amo and had no gun so was at a lose to be easy prey. I was in the basement with everyone else of the house or others who had run in for shelter, and the beings were on their way downstairs. All of a sudden I thought 'there is a gun on the person in front of you and it is loaded' i grab the gun and with excitement but uncertainty I shot at the beings, and sure enough, they one by one fell down. WE were all, now, safe. Then it cut to a scene that we were all at a bar dancing and celebrating. haha
I am excited that i have lucid dreamed before but its not like once you do it from then on you are capable of it, it is very rare for me to lucidly dream, but still very exciting.

Please Please coment and tell me ANYTHING relatable to this. your dream, your thoughts, your theories, your deja vu, your disagreements.. I am very intrigued. I would create a blog somewhere but have no idea where to start, so i started here..
I tagged people I know and love and people i've noticed who have also taken interest on any subject I've mentioned.
Sorry for anyone I missed but please feel free to comment anyways if you see this and are not tagged

Without you I often feel
Like a child who has lost her parents in a department store
And turns round and round
Waiting to be rediscovered and led back home.
It is a childlike feeling
In that it is so pure and intense
That it overwhelms everything else.
It's consuming,
This...lost, echoing sort of feeling,
This space inside me that calls
For you to be next to me and heal me.
It's the simple, gripping yearning
Of the child inside my heart
For connection
For tenderness
For contact-
To reach out and find purchase with my fingers
In the warmth of someone else's skin,
Someone I love,
Someone I trust.
Someone I miss,
Even when they are close.

Without you I often feel
Like a balloon that has been cut from its string
And left to wander through the stratosphere,
A lone black dot wavering above the treetops.
I have no control over where I am taken,
No way to reach out to where I've come from and say
"Wait, I want to go back."
I am adrift, in the most terrifying sense,
Emotionally floating through the emptiness of air,
Above all else but utterly alone.

I fear being away from you,
Is the truth,
Is the constant struggle.
I fear the mornings when your arms are not around my waist
And your breath isn't on my collarbone.
I fear the days when my hand isn't clasped in yours,
Tattooed in golden brown henna and entwined,
Fragile but steadying,
Like the rope that holds a ship fast and safe from the greedy fingers of the sea.
I fear the evenings when you aren't curled up beside me,
Your smooth voice telling me stories and ideas.
I fear the nights when I cannot look at your sleeping face
And feel the heartbreak cry out in my chest
Of loving every curve of it
In the halflight shadows
And seeing your skin glow gold
Against the velvet darkness.
I fear every second that you are not near me,
And that is why I feel so oddly lonely
In any tiny breath of a moment
That I am unoccupied.

Without you,
I'm not even entirely sure I exist.
Not properly,
Not like one should exist.
I think perhaps I pale a little,
Like a negative photograph,
Perhaps my edges become a little hazy
And the world bleeds into me and takes my light,
And my skin becomes a little transparent
So that if I stand before a streetlight in the rain
You can see the wet road through my back.
I think a little bit of my color drains,
And I become drab as a silverscreen movie,
Only projected upon the world and not
Really there.

No way of approaching how I feel without you
Can explain it fully,
And little flashes of what I mean dart across my vision like meteors.
I can try to equate it with something relatable,
Something tangible,
But the truth is that missing you transcends the words I've got to explain it.

I feel like a child, crying because she has realized what the word "alone" means.
I feel like a ship, cut adrift and floating through a mirror sky of sea
With no land in sight.
I feel like a worn out film reel
Ghost of an image hollographed against the world.
I feel like I've lost something
I couldn't live without.
My lungs, perhaps.
Maybe an artery,
Or the bones in my legs.
It feels wrong, to be without you.
And yet,
I am.
Without you,
I am...
Something.
But I'm not even sure I care to know
What.

is poetry really something you think about

like, can this be considered poetry?
me, here

sitting at a computer screen
typing words ever so

conversationally

this reads less like a poem
and more like a speech
or perhaps, like a friend
telling you their day over coffee
and I bet right now you can smell the roasted beans
the air, thick with the smell of caffeine, whipped cream,
possibly a cigar or two

and you hear the voice of your best friend
who's telling you about their day

how they had it rough that day
Ben from accounting really knew how to ruin a day, let me tell you
or perhaps,
someone just spilled coffee all over their notes while they were studying

and as much as fifty apologies can mend a relationship,
fifty apologies can't dry up your english notes

can we really consider this kind of stuff poetry?
it's completely free-form
against the norm,
little to no rhyme or structure
no substance whatsoever

just a mindless person rambling about things that seem ever so slightly relatable

is this really poetry?

probably not.

POEM FOR IMALRIGHT
Dear Imalright
I discovered your poetry and LOVED all of it. I was struck by lots of what you wrote and it inspired to write this to you. I promise you I mean every word of it.
I read your poems:
Unexceptional
Unbeautiful
Anxiety at 3AM
Two sad teenagers
Relapse
Fifteen
Starving artist
2014
Nothing special
Rough Edges & a dorky face
Under eyes
I adored them and spent the better part of a full day, hours and hours combing through the verses, dissecting the poems, analyzing the words and fully appreciating your incredible work. I picked out my very favorite phrases or yours that I found particularly powerful and moving and responded to these lines. I wanted to start a challenge. (In fact I posted this challenge as a poem, you can find it on my page).
I thought it might be nice to do like a secret santa thingy on hellopoetry only not secret and not santa… what I mean is, find a random stranger you literally have never met and do NOT know at all whose poetry you like and spend actual time genuinely reading their work, picking out your favorite lines and responding to them, pondering them, etc. Write something positive to them and post it as a poem with their name in the title. The “DEAR BLANK” challenge only you put their name instead of “blank”. I think we could all use a little recognition that we exist and are worth something since everyone seems a little depressed on here (including myself) which is fine, it’s a great outlet but it would be nice for people to just spontaneously find that a random stranger spent time in their life just to recognize you and care about your poetry. To write a kind poem/letter to them responding to lines in their poetry. I just thought that you seemed like a wonderful poet and a wonderful person based on your poetry so I chose you, Imalright. So here it is:

Your head whispers these words that crawled onto the page:

We're the kind of people that fade into the background

that people forget are in the room.

-Imalright

I won’t say something that the rest of society seems to think fixes everything. I won’t tell you the typical: you are important to everyone, you are not just a faded part of the background, people do notice you etc. because those are empty words everyone uses and they people who are always pretty in the spotlight are always the ones to say it, so what do they really know about the background, forgotten, white-noise people like us?

I will tell you, instead, I know it hurts like hell to be forgotten. For your existence to go unnoticed. I know being a part of the background is never anyone’s first choice. I am a backdrop-dweller myself. I am the unnoticed girl who blends in with the shadows. There is nothing wrong with that.
Never forget that the starry night sky is a background too. You can still be wonderful without being the center of attention. You can still be wonderful even if you are a part of the background. I want you to know, I noticed your poetry. I noticed you, and your name, and your wonderful talent and I have spent my time dissection every poem you have posted because every single one of them, is a different shade of amazing. We are all backgrounds in someways but what we choose as our phone screen backgrounds tend to be pictures of what we love the best. Pictures of beautiful things. There is nothing unbeautiful about the background. So from one forgotten soul in a room to another, I your poetry was just another account in millions like the stars but you are one of the loveliest sections of this world’s background I have ever seen. Keep that in mind. 







I just wish that I was one of those beautiful things.

-Imalright

Once again, I won’t use a society phrase like: Everyone is special and beautiful in their own ways!! Because people don’t seem to get that no matter what they say, it doesn’t even matter if it is true, but if you tell someone who thinks they are not one of those beautiful things that they are beautiful They. Do. Not. Believe. You. It just doesn’t matter, it won’t change their mind, it doesn’t help and it doesn’t fix it. It just makes them feel like you are lying to them and then they feel vain and self-conscious about admitting to you that they don’t feel beautiful etc. etc. I’ve been there so I know.
So I won’t tell you that. But I will tell you a couple facts instead.

It is a fact, that there is ugly inside of every single person.
It is also a fact, that there is beauty inside every single person.
Because beauty is NOT a definable concept. It is different to every person depending what kind of lens they look through and let me tell you, physical beauty is artificial and even though I wish I could be physically attractive in my own eyes, I have come to accept and I hope you have too or will as well, that a deeper beauty than that is inner beauty. What you keep in the cracks and crevices you made yourself in your soul. I think you are beautiful. I the pages you’ve written on soaked with ink made out of your inner self is magnificent. Your way with words and your flow of thoughts, the way you look at life through an indigo-tinted-one-way-glass-lens, it is all a whispering sort of beauty. Like the soft ringing sound of raindrops skimming the window pane on a grey sky, storm cloudy day. That same sort of delicate loveliness. I think you are a very unique and exquisite color of beautiful unlike any other poet I’ve ever seen. I don’t know you, you don’t know me, we can’t label ourselves friends since I have never spoken to you, but friends are basically socially required to tell you that you are beautiful whereas strangers are bound by no such obligation, yet still I tell you, I find you a person with a beautiful soul. I have only ever seen your poetry, but that is enough for me to know you are a beautiful person. After all, poetry is really where our souls spill what they are truly composed of. If I were to judge your beauty by your face and actions, all those are altered by circumstances beyond our control, society standards and pressure etc. What you do does not define you. Your soul does, however. You are beautiful to me. 







I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED I JUST WANTS THINGS TO BE OKAY

-Imalright
A truthful scream of the heart that many have felt. It’s funny that we all have this same base desire that tends to reveal itself more and more the later at night it gets, and yet we all still suffer the feeling of being unloved and unokay alone and silently. I wish I could reach out and fix you because the pain of others that is out of my reach always pains me more than any kind of physical agony I could ever endure. I can’t fix you though, so instead I offer you the only thing I can, I am with you. As a friend, just another soul on the earth who has felt this feeling you express in this line. I reach out with the hands of my spirit and for your spirit. Maybe if you know that I too have felt unloved and unokay you can find comfort and strength in that. Because no matter what kind of darkness you face, literal or internal, I find being united with someone empathetic to you who knows how you feel makes it just a little less scary even if it is just a sliver of hope for even just a second. It is something and the idea of “hereness’ you know, like being “here” for you, being “with” you in that emotion is all I can offer and I just want you to know, I love everyone and everything until I am given a good reason not to. So in a way, even if not on a personal level (because I do not know you, so I can’t love you on a personal level the way a sister loves a sister or a best friend loves a best friend) just generally, you are loved by me, because I love your poetry and I love all things that haven’t given me reason not to. And do you know what? Even though it hurts and it is unfair, everyone has to be unokay for a little while. I have been too. Maybe you were unokay for longer than what could possibly be near just or humane or reasonable but you were strong enough to pull through. I applaud you for this and want you to know your strength in powering through your unokayness has been recognized and admired. By me. Because the warriors are the ones up at 3AM having anxiety attacks but never let it show and you are a warrior. I am proud to call you a fellow poet.




but being sad and lonely is worse than being sad.

-Imalright
I know what you mean by this line. It is sculpted so beautifully though. The words in the phrase are just so raw and honest. Not over romanticized, just plain relatable great poetry in its true form as it should be. Wonderful. I hope you have found refuge from loneliness or will find refuge from it soon in finding someone else’s heart to call your own and in your heart belonging to someone else.





A new scar for that comment that boy said.
A new scar for that friend that betrayed you.
A new scar for every word you swallow.

-Imalright
That boy has scars of his own and he thought it would make them fade if he cause you to have scars too. ***** him. The betrayal of a friend is a special kind of pain like being stabbed with a knife you made yourself. A pain I know too well and wish no one else knew. Let the scars heal and do not swallow words. You will choke pretty soon if you don’t. Keep in mind that you are worth more than scars. I think you are worth more than scars.






You don't know how bad things are.

-Imalright
First off, I love this line. Just so simple and yet so relatable. There is some beauty to that. Sort of like thorns on a rose stem. Although they can be piercing and ugly there is magnificence that goes along with it. To be 15 and not know how bad things are, you have the rest of your life to obsess over the bad things and how awful things really are. You have the rest of your earthly existence to be broken, so like a child’s smile, at least you had that one moment in your life when things weren’t shattered as far as you knew.





With nowhere to go but everywhere
-Imalright
What an extraordinary thought. Such a liberating idea. You have really inspired me with this one single phrase. Keep in mind, you can be so inspiring to people who don’t even know you (like me) just with your words. You really make such a difference in this world. I have decided after reading this line, I’m going to try and let a little bit of that philosophy into my life. Nowhere to go but anywhere.

And that hope is going to make me stop doing this to myself.

-Imalright
Well, I really hope so too. I hoped for hope to save me for way too long. Eventually you gotta find it in yourself because this world is a little short on Hope, its main export being Despair. Just know you are not alone in this. I wish Hope was something you could wrap and mail it to someone who needs it but I can’t hand you Hope. I cannot offer it to you physically but if it helps at all, if it creates Hope for you, I want you to know that I personally, desperately from the bottom of my heart hope to God, genuinely thinking of you individually as a person that you have healed or are healing or will heal through Hope. If that helps. I have been crumbling, but somehow, after a hell of a lot of anguish, I found Hope. You can too. If it doesn’t help then I offer you my hand spiritually and metaphorically. Stay hopeful, because in this world, that is all we have.






i'm nothing special
im not beautiful
i'm not gifted

-Imalright
I know I can’t change your mind the same way no one can change mine when it comes to how self-image and esteem, but I just wanted to tell you even if you don’t believe me, in my eyes and in my opinion, not saying this to be fake or just being nice. If it weren’t true I just wouldn’t bring it up or say anything about it but you are VERY special. …okay that doesn’t sound good that sounds like the kind of special people put in quotations like: oh, she’s um… you know, “special” alright…
What I meant was, you are special because your poetry has made a difference in my life. You insightful view into life, your precious unprecedented perspective on the world and how you perceive it is very special. I have already explained why I think you are beautiful internally and keep in mind there is no such thing as one type of physical beauty. It is all about opinion and to some person or some people out there, you ARE physically perfect. To them, your physical traits are their definition of beauty because beauty doesn’t have a size, a color or a shape. That is the beautiful thing about beauty. And you are gifted at poetry, that’s for **** sure. Your poems are absolutely toxically flawless I adore them and I really, really mean that. Your writing is close to my heart. That may come across rather creepy sorry about that haha :P but you need to know that you are gifted when it comes to beautiful words.






No one will make me believe that all of my flaws aren't wonderful.

-Imalright
Such a sensational thought and resolve. I really and truly admire and acknowledge your indescribable strength I wish I could achieve to not only accept but embrace your flaws. You are such a strong person and I want to thank you for being such an inspiration to me and the rest of the world, doing that and finding that truth within yourself that flaws are wonderful things.
wondering why i had shattered myself in the process of picking up someone else's pieces

-Imalright

Okay, before I say anything else… omfg wow holy mother of waffles. (That is not a very common expression but I am so struck by the priceless incredibleness of this line I can’t think straight. Also, waffles are good.) This is amazing… how do you come up with stuff like this???!! The imagery, the metaphor, the power of the phrase embedded in the words just… wow. Spectacular. God, I just really, REALLY hope with every ounce of my soul you find a way to repair yourself or someone to repair you because to lose yourself, saving someone else who was broken is so heroically tragic it breaks my heart because you are such a beautiful person.




Dear Imalright
I offer you Poet’s Love.
One poet to another.
I admire your work and your work is made out of little parts of you.
I admire you and your strength, your writing abilities and your outlook on life.
Never ever change.
I hope you find Hope.
Message me anytime should you need anything.
And I want to thank you for being such a strong inspiration to the race of people we call: Poets.
Love,
Ember Evanescent.

Death is inevitable
I am dying to early though
And it is all because of you
My life is a wreck
I have problems
Beyond what you can see
You are making it worse
I feel the rope around my neck
I can't believe that
You are my noose
Kids are killers
Adults are zombies
Ghost are the most relatable
To my twisted fantasy
Ignore the people's harsh words
But sometimes you just can't

Folded ripped and unfolded
You see the symmetry and its beautiful
But when you take a step closer you see the emptiness in the tears.
You see the valleys left behind in each crease of every fold
The rugged edges of the rip
Fingerprints left from a sweaty hold
Yes, upon closer inspection I am but the sum of my parts
And often all my parts appear to be disasters
And often they are
I trot around like a work of art
But few see what it took to get that way
How I was folded ripped and unfolded
Few can't see past what it took
They see the holes left in me but not the pretty shapes
And some see the shapes and I wish they'd acknowledge the holes
Still even fewer can comprehend the resulting work
And frankly, Sometimes I'm not sure I do
But I manage
A crippled work of art made beautiful by how neatly she was torn apart
I struggle to hold my new form in the wind and amongst viewers
Try to look like something relatable
And not like life spent too long on me
Worked till it got weary and persisted when really it should have rested its eyes
I try
To uphold my form as though every overworked corner and tear isn't centimeters away from destruction
As though the slightest snag or tug won't leave me hanging
Noticeably Deformed and mishapen
But I stretch and I retract with grace
Perhaps this is how I dance now
my life a pas de deux of trying to hold it all together
Just folded, ripped, and unfolded.

Objects in the mirror,
aren’t so clear as they want to appear; trying to pretend
life isn’t so hard,- only disguises itself behind a facade.
While living an empty dream in a bottle;
sometimes I feel so trapped in that same bottle's charade.  
Forever thirsty for more of time; the flesh never truly satisfied,
and attempting to shed the past, with bones so long dried.

There’s question of
whether, all we really desire is truly attainable,
Some of it feels so unavailable; giving someone a whole universe,
for them to prefer some space. Even when there’s a lot of
relative justice- there are moments when I struggle to
connect with others, cos I don’t feel as relatable.

Where’s the point of
crying out your piece of mind, even when they claim
to call all of your actions, sharp sometimes?  
And do you see yourself clearly in a broken mirror
sometimes- with its shards piercing right in your eyes?
Cos if you can’t afford to take it all in, you’ll just cut
a moment short, with that broken piece of mind.

The story of Marilyn Monroe is like a fairytale of sorts

She was a simple and shy sweetheart who one day let her beauty for the world to show

Everyone knew her name, her glamour and fame, the glitter and lights in her name

But no one knew the real Marilyn, her private inner life plagued with tragedy, demons, and strife

A mentally broken mother, distant and sometimes unfaithful lovers, and personal demons that plagued her in the dark

Marilyn Monroe herself was just an illusion, a well crafted mask; An alter ego to shelter and protect the sensitive and quiet Norma Jean

From a shy sweet girl to a vivacious and sultry *** goddess

Marilyn Monroe is a lot like you and me

She was a starlet beauty who was realistic and relatable

Tragically, she died and left the world; her name and life still a mystery to this day

Here's a story of a little girl who dreamed to conquer the world

Norma Jean aka Marilyn Monroe

she's narrating the way
she's falling apart
with every word
they call her art

she called for help
they called it
poetry
can anyone ever separate
metaphor
from
reality

so she smiled instead
she was pretty instead
there was color instead
she was alive instead

they pat her back
well done
good work
relatable content

meanwhile she
is actively dismissing
the intent
to pack up and go
to quit and say no
to end it and skip it and leave it
so she penned it
posted it and shared it

if the only way
to break away
is this creative escape
she'll take it
any day she'll fake it
just to find a reason to make it

I have lived like this for a longtime now.
Brewing tea at four am's,
watching the duet of my heartbeat and the flickering blue flame in the darkness of my kitchen.
So many nights that turned into mornings at the blink of my rose lit eyes.
Sitting at the same spot on the couch, trying to look through the fishnet skies.
From tea to coffee to cigarettes to joints to big sips of whiskey-cola.
Running away from addictions, time to time.
Running away from places and people before they could form a thought about me.
I live in a prison that I create for myself. Cancelling plans, dodging phone calls and avoiding eye contact.  
Getting drunk and making love to strangers that,
may or may not remember me.
Worrying.  
Worrying about what the world has come to and what my country is doing wrong and about all the innocent people that suffer everyday.
I am worried about my education and the future.
Also,  the life that I am creating for myself.
Worried about the dishes that I still haven't done,  
the mess around me that is growing like wildfire
or the whole minute that I haven't blinked.
I have lived like this for a longtime. Paranoid.  
Looking through the crack in the curtains and at lit windows in far away buildings.
At the dark patches in the sky where the stars aren't there.
Scared that the man in the television has looked into my eyes for too long and that the song playing is too relatable.
Too long have I been scared to now feel anything that is considered normal.
I have lived in my world of anxiety,  irrational fears and slow dancing curtains for too long to smile, laugh and love and not be it just half hearted.
But there is still hope for me in,
Quiet midnight's of making tea and
The one who stares back at me,
through the fishnet skies.

1 . Die, all of you.

2. Flip her skirt up.

3. Let everyone be happy.

4. Bring the most righteous person back to life.

5. Bring back everyone who died.

6. I want eternal life and youth!

7. Confidence.

8. I want to stop being a warrior.

9. I want more talent.

10. A harem, of course!

11. Disappear, all of you.

12. Expand my power to one thousand paths.

13. Money! Money!

14. I want to be friends with everyone in the world.

15. Rule the world!
Ruling the world is hard.

16. I want a girlfriend!
But would that really be love?

17. I want wisdom.
Foolishness makes you who you are.

18. I want to know the future.
But what fun would be living then?

19. I want to be a pro baseball player.
But you would have to work out every day then.

20. Telekinesis.
Then why I have hands?

21. I want to fly.
Then why I have feet?

22. I want to speak all languages.
You don't like to talk anyway (RELATABLE).

23. I want an X-ray vision.
That would lead to misunderstandings.

24. I wish for an end to war.
But it won't end exploitation.

25.I want to climb mount Everest.
But you would have only yourself to rely on.

26. I want a smartphone that can't run out of battery.
It would last only a few years still.

27. I want to pilot a giant robot!
What you would be fighting?

28. To never stub my toe again.
Why not just watch where you walk?

29.I want a cool supercar.
It won't feel the same if you don't buy it yourself.

30. I wish everyday could be Sunday.
Go to work on Sunday?

31. I want to be a bird.
Being a human is much better.

32. I want to read people's minds.
You would start to distrusting people.

33. The ability to wake up early.
But you would just go back to sleep. (Totally relatable)

34. I want to enter a manga.
What if you couldn't get out?

35. I want to be invisible.
You are already invisible in the classroom (that hurts, you know).

36. I want to not feel pain.
That's dangerous.

37. I want that rare book.
It's only rare because no one else have it.

38. I want that limited edition item.
Would it still be limited edition then?

39. I want a best friend.
What if they knew you were friends only because of a wish?

40. I want to be a great man.
That greatness wouldn't last.

41. I want to talk to animals
They probably don't have much to say.

42. I want to travel the world.
It's likely harder than it sounds.

43. I want to live in a mansion
All by yourself?

44. I want a fighter plane
Where would you park it?

45. I want to play all instruments!
But buying them all would be expensive.

46. I want to see a ghost!
Like hell you do!

47. I want to meet a great person from the past
But they would have a lot of lectures for a modern person.

48. I want my dormant power awakened!
What if you don't have any?

50. I want power to stop time!
That's like saying you want a power to commit crime.

51. I want better penmanship.
In digital era?

52. I want to meet an elf
In this day and age?

53. I want youth.
What do you think you have now?

55. I want an eye that sees long distances.
You mean like a third eye?

57. I want to hire a maid.
Just go to cafe.

58. I want to be a manga artist.
Answer one of the Young Jump recruiting postings.

60. I want to live in a deserted island!
You would probably want to leave it right away.

61. I want a time machine!
Do you have an idea how to get energy to power it?

62. I want to be free of stress.
You need stress to grow.

63. I want world peace.
Would you still exist in a peaceful world?

64. I want a loving family.
But artificial one?

65. I want to eat the world's most delicious food.
But you want to eat cup ramen too.

66. I want to go to amusement park
What are you, a girl raised to be a living weapon? (This is surely an allusion to something, I just can't get what)

67. I want to be on the front page of a newspaper!
Are you going to commit a crime or what?

77. I want to be a cyborg.
Who would repair you if you broke?

78. I want an art collection.
You don't even like that stuff. Don't pretend to be an intellectual.

79. I want to buy a penguin.
Can you even take care of an animal?

80. I want to talk to famous people.
About what? Any subject in mind?

82. A world free of evil people.
What would be left?

83. I want to be taller.
And then you would want to be shorter again.

84. I want courage.
What are you, a lion?

86. I want prestige.
Unearned prestige?

87. I want to never be late for a bus.
But then the buses would be late.

88. I want to be the strongest in world.
Why, so you can bully the weak?

89. I want to invent something amazing.
All inventions ultimately become weapons.

90.I want to film a movie.
You would bring down any set you were on.

91. I want to be someone who will never lose again.
The moment you wish for this, you become an eternal loser.

92.I want to become a master swordsman.
Dishonestly?

96. I want to learn the truth of the world.
No, you don't.

97. I wish misfortune on people I hate.
Wishing misfortune on others is a ****** thing to do.

98. To grant your wish instead.
Cancel that immediately.

99. I want to turn my wish into 100 wishes.

100. Let me forget

i finalised my "divorce" today. well, it was a breakup. 2 years together, lived together, shared our cats, shared a life... all that. so yeah, it felt like a mini divorce.

and i couldn't help but notice how relatable the song "happiness" by taylor swift is now...

"all the years i've given is just **** we're dividing up"

he left the house a week ago. today he came by, and divided up our shared things.

"tell me when did your winning smile
began to look like a smirk?
when did all our lessons start to look like weapons
pointed at my deepest hurt?"

when i first met him, it was the stuff of fairytales - like most relationships. we shared some of the best memories of our lives together. but like all good things, it came to an end. over time, we became stressed with life's responsibilities. we became toxic to each other, and both made terrible mistakes. towards the end, it became the inevitable to end things.

"after giving you the best i had
tell me what to give after that?"

i gave it my all. we both tried our best. it just wasn't meant to be.

"haunted by the look in my eyes
that would've loved you for a lifetime"

how i wished he was the one... given any chance, i would've loved him for a lifetime. i miss him. i miss the life we shared. i grieve for the future we will never have.

"i can't make it go away by making you a villian"

but just because the relationship failed, it was still extraordinarily beautiful. i hold zero resentment towards him at all. no negative feelings. i wish him all the best in the future.

"no one teaches you what to do
when a good man hurts you
and you know you hurt him too"

these lyrics hit me the most...

"there'll be happiness after you
but there was happiness because of you"

goodbye, lover. maybe in another lifetime, our paths will cross again. but for now, i wish you all the happiness in the world. i will always have love for you deep in my heart.

for my Fatima Gul

I was passing days ordinary as myself
Until your appearance extraordinary as yourself
I never found someone so relatable to my life
Like a mirror you reflected so clearly
All what's been going on in my life
Just as we talked about everything
We came closer with every thought
Even though we talked too little
But with every shared thought
I found you ever closer to my heart
I never thought that any stranger
Can feel so much like home
with all the warmth and joy
that you always have been
Like a light in gloom
My life gets bloomed
With the joy and jokes
You always evoke
You make me feel good
and you make me laugh
I cherish those moments
Tho very little they are
With your beautiful name
You're much more lovelier
I wish for you my Fatima Gul
Everything that is beautiful

With love
~Muhammad Ali
Yours and always yours 💞
July 17,2021

there's an awful emptiness
in relatable content
when hundreds of people all
experience the same
loneliness and pain
but no one can do anything
about it, so instead they just
laugh, a fake laugh, and say
"yeah, I know how you feel!"
as if commiserating will somehow
ease the pain when someone dies
or something in your heart goes askew
but if every awful experience is common then the norm is misery
which is not a norm I'm willing to accept
or maybe relatable is an adjective
for anything relevant to the human experience
in which case, every moment, every feeling, every instance
is relatable and therefore dreadfully unoriginal
so-- I propose we change the meaning of the word itself
allow it to become more, a warning to break free
a protest to rise up against
the normative and to seek the original
to become inspired and to connect with others
in unique and meaningful ways
join me in reclaiming what is relatable and instead
seeking what is new

Which has lead me to crush on a LOT of adults. Because they do the following:

Having a good conversation that doesn’t end up in some fight. So it can be having this really hard conversation about death and he won't jump to conclusions. He won't assume I'm suicidal. And he sure as **** won't assume I need to go to the hospital. I love him for that.
Telling me when I’m acting like a *******. Like last night. "Just because something happened between us doesn't mean you get to isolate in your room." Thank you for helping me get my head out of my ***. I love you for that.
Sharing a cigarette. I love you for sharing addiction with me. You know addiction, you get addiction, you are an addiction. Man. I love you for it.
Buying me coffee. Meaning, you bring me in a good bag of coffee that actually doesn't need creamer to taste good. I love you for actually having taste.
Giving me compliments or calling me beautiful, even when I don’t have a bra on and look like I well, just woke up. I love you for speaking Spanish to me, because no one is that ****, but you are.
Telling me the truth. Like, “hey Dylan, you’re being stupid. Don’t kiss him.”
Sharing interests. Whether it be poetry, or movies. Cats, or jeeps. Even kinds of cigarettes, or coffee drinks.
Telling stories about our past. It can be “hey I used to drink a lot...” or it can be “I was abused as a child”
OR it can be “I was put in the foster care system.”
All of it makes me fall irrevocably in love with you.
Because you somehow become relatable with that experience.
And, at the end of this day, friendship confuses me.
I don’t know where the line is between friends and soulmates.
I just don’t know.

I am going to
immortalize you
in all the most lovely
poetic ways,
but not in shades of blue.

I am going to immortalize you,
give this snowing
weather a break,
give my mind
something new to taste;

It tastes like the smell
of a favourite meal being cooked
on a bad day,
it tastes like a good day,
it tastes right.

Although my most
relatable poems
have been about
suffering and pain,
I want to depict a new picture,
illustrate the vibrant yellow
in my brain.

Because as long as I feel this,
as long as it's real,
I don't care to make relatable rhyme because this happiness is mine.

Dear  Elsa Angelica,
So I have read through your poetry.
If you were made out of five words
Bent and tied with ribbons to shape your soul
Those words would be
Inspiring
Kind
Talented
Beautiful
Strong

I don’t know you
Your story
Your secrets
Your pain

But
I know that your poetry inspires me
Really it does
You are a kind person with loving words to offer at any given moment
You are so poetically talented it is outrageous
You are so, so beautiful inside and out
Your soul is beautiful
Your words are beautiful
YOU are beautiful
You are strong
To have held up so many others who were crumbling
You are STRONG
To have held up yourself
And been strong enough to admit when you are weak
I have selected some of my favorite lines of yours and responded to them.
I want you to know
I think you are a speechless and precious type of beauty that doesn’t exist anywhere else
Please keep writing
Because your writing
Changed me inside
And it keeps me going
Alive, not just existing
And I want to thank you for that
For fueling my smile
~Love~
Ember

I want to be
Happy once and for
All.
But how do I start
-Elsa angelica

What a lovely wistful wish verbalized for the rest of us who all wonder that same question. Pretty words, but also so much more than just pretty, so glimmering with deep meaning every syllable. You are so gifted with the pen.

I did not mean to hurt you.
I am sorry I caused you pain.
-Elsa angelica
You are so brave and should be admired and acknowledged for your strength in admitting you are sorry for something and apologizing for pain you may have caused. I have such extreme and overwhelming respect for you, reading this. Putting kindness and goodness before pride. You are wonderful.

Love is love
-Elsa angelica
So poetic, so simple, so brilliant. I can’t even say anything else, the line speaks for itself. Your work speaks for how exceptional you really are a person, as a poet and as a soul.

In autumn...
the leaves fall
like slow
motion rain
-Elsa angelica

I know this is an entire poem but I couldn’t split up specific lines I liked I was just so in love with this entire poem your wrote. Powerful imagery WOW.

Good bye
Fake love.
-Elsa angelica

You are wise to recognize falseness in love. We all struggle with that and we all struggle even more with farewells. You are admired and applauded by me for these lines. Magnificent poetic phrase. I adore this.

I know I was not a pretty flower
I know a few thorns I had.
-Elsa angelica
Oh, but even a flower with thorns is beautiful. As my close personal friend and Hellopoetry Poet friend Ena Alysopriano so wisely once said to me when I was calling myself a ****: Don’t confuse wildflower with ****. Well now I say to you, don’t confuse thorns with being unbeautiful along those same lines. You are so pretty on the inside and outside. Your work, your spirit, the way you choose to live, how kind you are, what a difference you make. Nevertheless, this line in the poem you wrote is gloriously delightful. Seriously. I am amazed.  

Cuz fear is knocking on my door
-Elsa angelica

Such an excellent metaphor, so achingly relatable to basically everyone and so genius. Incredible write by such an incredible poet. You. Are. Phenomenal.

Elsa,
Thank you for writing.
I just want to express my appreciation and gratitude for what you bring to the art of poetry itself.
Stay beautiful.
I think you are remarkably exquiste.
<3
Love,
Your ever admiring Ember Evanescent


EVERYONE SHOULD CHECK OUT HER SPECTACULAR WORK!!

Thank you for giving me someone relatable.
Thank you for the laughs.
Thank you for the character I'll strive to be.
And the romance that I can find.
Thank you for teaching me I can be strong.
For telling me I don't have to be elaborate to be happy.
Thank you for telling me to follow a dream.
Thank you for showing that villains can be close, or far.
Thank you for the songs that get stuck in my head.

"The pain is here, it’s real, it’s new.

I thought I knew who I was talking to.

Darkness resides heavy in my heart.
Just waiting for sincere healing to start.

The fire was real and I fueled the flame.

So guilty I’ve been carrying this pain.

Being a prisoner trapped in my own mind.
This high’s all I wish to feel this time.

So sad, so strong, so weak and true.
Slow songs induce strange thoughts of you.

Not common or right for binding me to insanity.

Oh how my veins pulse with this conflicting tragedy.

Hard times of each life are unfortunately common.
Why the **** do I feel so unnatural and bothered?

True, I had invited that feeling so fake that it’s real,

but only Satan’s heart could feel.

The crack of light in the darkest of indiscretion.
Hope sin won’t taint skin and take over my soul’s possession.

Memory is faulty and haunts my mind.

I want no one to be a victim of my kind.

What happened that night follows me around.

I will no longer stand back or bow down.

For these people who lie and cheat and steal.
Innocence taken only for fast thrill.

Hope of forgiveness grips my mind.

Just wanted to feel more than fake sincere of some kind.


The roots they can’t unwind this time.

Still…I sit, I wonder, I wait.

If one day I will escape this twisted discovery of fate.

So gripping, so chilling, so ghostly I subconsciously feel.
What makes this purpose of life so real?

And yet, I thrive in the hurt of deceptive captivism.

Still it leaves me tangled in bitter cynicism.

To decipher what feelings are true and sincere,

For tragic time has dragged me down, my dear.

For each soul not to to see what I see in a day.

So blissful and unaware in their mind’s they will stay.

The heart it beats without time in mind.

Wish others could see things on my side.

This kind of thinking isn’t simple or plain. 

Everyone else seems stuck in this game.


Of greed and lust and experience to blame.
Spiders only weave webs of shame. 

This dangerous adventure has many to claim.


Hypocrites have only themselves to blame.

As I realize this life I’ve continuously made,

Memories of sadness get locked away.
Healing begins and time takes charge,

Of keeping the soul you recognize at large.

And one only knows how far that goes.
To each other’s own personal experience we toast.

To the keeping of safe things around to stay.

Hoping for those demons to just stay away.


But simplicity of shame has no beginning or end,

To staying indefinitely happy forever my friend.

This idea has sparks that your conscious mind ignites.
To crave staying out of the darkest of times.

Your mind will spin and won’t win at first.

Playing tricks through your darkest treats that leave burns.

Scratch and itch until these marks bleed.

This method of recovery doesn’t work it seems.

Leaving scars seen only through subjective time.

That taunt until your hinges unwind.

Consistency in mentality is major, it’s crucial for change.
Taken aback by simply just hearing his name.

My identity tainted, shocked and shaken.
What has this occurrence ended up taking?

Not the love I wanted.

So unrealistic, yet I can feel, 

That after carful recovery my insecurities will yield.


That light in the end can draw back my shield.
That this shadow uplifts and leaves me for real.

Medication of mind is found only through time,

Through genuine acts of someone truly kind.

Souls slowly die when they question hopeful living.

My sincerest apologies for the lies I’ve been giving.

It’s a cover, a mask, and the truth of pain.

I refuse to stay stuck in this cycle of shame.

Stay strong.
They say that’s all you can do.


And true as this is, I’m still stuck thinking of you.

That night is over and so is this blame.
Sometime I believe I will be able to tame,

These thoughts that flow so easy to spark,

cannot **** my faith in humanity to start.


I refuse to give up on this battered heart.

I will not become what I fear in my most secret confidential.
One who only sees light in the shadows and ignores what is stressful,.

Through highs and excuses I will no let them take,

That piece of my heart I’v trying to wake.

Though struggles seem unavoidable and consistently collected. 

I truly do not want this free spirit caged and affected.


This stand of my emotional recovery is not of physical kind.
This healing begins with the true detox of my mind.

As I end on the note of freeing of my soul.

I hope this helps others who want to console. 


The heart they knew and wanted to keep.

There is undiscovered hope for you and as well as me.

So take these words as a binding contract.
That cleaning of wounds only reach pains surface.


That believing in reaching that once discovered place,

though damaged and battered is still accessible to face.

Easy satisfaction and crossroads emerge.
I was easily one to allow the temptation to purge. 


In sins that are quick and easy to explain.
This will not help but add to each pain.

Listening to others tell of their relatable mistakes.

Only add to our internal blames.


And conclude the point of truth and pain.

Advice refuses credibility once harsh realization is triggered,

The angel on your shoulder only begins to shiver.


Will power and self esteem being to wither,

and trust can’t help but to surrender and quiver.

Every profoundly denied claim being kept locked away,

Comes clean and draws free to cause damning dismay.

Worst part is knowing this ideas been exposed and hindered

Also tainted by reality my soul will forever carry this pain with her.


Admitting the second it surfaced it was what I had subconsciously figured.

This must be forgotten and thrown away.
The business of the mind must retain a stance to not play.


With ideas that settling on perceptions of others is craved,

And the idea a veiled mindset is what should be portrayed.

The strongest hearts beat to sounds of their own drum,

Flying freely above others actions that stung.


Still keeping in mind humanity in other kinds, 

And believing they can soften others relatable pain that binds.

And this I have to know is true.

Because it takes just one soul to have faith in you.


It’s the strongest of souls bitter sweetly kept insane.

And believe, after time, life can be beautiful once again."

Small Colorado mountain library
Had too many books, I guess
And was selling them, a bag for a buck
So I threw a handful in a bag
    I wanted to read
But also, some fifteen cent gambles
Which happened to include
"The White Pony: An Anthology
Of Chinese Poetry" 1947
A compilation of poems
Translated into English
Some brilliant
Some three thousand years old
Or older
(No one seems to know)
Some notes in the margins
And underlined by a previous owner
(Also brilliant)
And this fifteen cent investment
Is opening a world of old masters
Who can speak to me
From their world of wars
Concubines and starvation
To my domestic modernity
With ease
With celebration
Of life's simple things
These are not foreign souls
Masters, yes
But utterly relatable
From their quiet reflections and virtues
Under the peach blossom tree

A famous poet
A master
Of thirty (or more) years
Of teaching poetry
    (taught by Ginsberg I've been told)
Left a voicemail...a generous offer...to read my poetry
To give me instruction
At a downtown coffee shop
For fifty dollars an hour

Fifty dollars an hour?
Shouldn't he have an office?
Well, it's as close to a 1920s parisian dive around Boulder as one could find
I used to hang out there
And write before work

Eh
Perhaps it's not as weird as I think it is
Perhaps I can ascertain a love for language that couldn't be achieved outside of reading my Blake, Whitman, Hemingway, Lawrence, Dickerson...

He will read my poetry
And guide me towards accessibility, honesty, vulnerability, courage
I will be relatable (for once)
With beautiful imagery
That will open
    universes

I am suppose to text him back

Is this what I want?

What I want...thats something folks closest to me dare not ask

What has what I want have to do with anything in my life?

What I want, what I want, what I want

I want my voice to come forth effortlessly from my adventurous life, my song to echo expansive landscapes and treks, to learn intimate knowledge of plants and rocks, and laugh with the beautiful people that inhabit such places

I know tonight
Nothing matters
Until
I set an opportunistic sail to this change in the wind

I have already ventured deep into this life, I've not gone gently into the night, so why start now?

The time to shove off is soon

Like Whitman said...
"AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road...
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose"

Hell ya, brother Walt

As kids
We were taught to cheer for the hero
The picture perfect role model
The one we all strived to be
The one that always found a way to win
No matter what the odds

He always made the decisions
He Should make
And the only mistakes he made
Were ones that could be corrected
So he could keep his perfect image

We cheered for the hero because
When he was faced with tragedy
He didn't drown in sorrow
But instead used it as a springboard
To become something greater

He always saved the day
And everyone who needed
And he never failed to rescue someone
Not even once

So we held him up high
Because that's what we wanted to be

But overtime
We learned that the hero is just a fantasy
He only lives in comics
Because that's where he was meant to be

So we learned to side with the villain
Not because we're evil
But because the villain is more real
More human

When the villain was faced with tragedy
He did what was human
He attempted to swim
In the flood of sorrow
But couldn't swim forever
He drowned

The villain is relatable
He makes the decision
We Would make
He did what he thought was right
Or at least what was necessary
To provide the needs of
Or to avenge
His family

But eventually
He became blinded
To what he did
And he couldn't see
That he was wrong

Because the villain isn't perfect
He's just like us
The villain is human

So we side with the villain
Becuase we feel his pain
We relate with his emotions
We understand his actions

Perfection is something we can't be
So we stopped cheering for the hero
When we realized that's who we can never be
And started to side with the villain
Because he's just like you and me