The wisdom I have gained
Can fill many lovers' cups
With experience and lessons
With loss and sorrow
Pour my knowledge into them
How to love and how to talk
To listen and to feel
To never lose or yield
To hold what is precious
The wisdom I have now
Flows like a faucet
Where every lover shall
Never know the thirst
For one's touch
For one's kiss
To share a glass with another
To drink each other's love
Yet for all that insight
My own cup
Can never be filled again

Im starting to get old
Yet, I'm still young
I lived life with fear
Yet im alone
I met some incredible people
Who eventually will forget
What's my favourite color
They won't answer that

But if someone asks me
If I ever regret saying
"I love you" a few times
To the girl that I met
She was my world
I did everything I could
And even after promessing to stay
I hate to say this, but she ran away
´
I'm starting to realize
That even if im alone and sad
The trees won't stop growing
And time won't ever slow down
I wasted so much of my time
Giving love to this one girl
Mariana is her name
And I miss her a lot

I wrote her a love letter
It had some beautiful words
But it was not worth the effort
I'm now, alone

i was born a parasite, an artificial
organism in a petri dish
inseminated and taken out
too early, relying on man made tools
to keep me going, forced
oxygen and nutrients
that made my existence never feel natural.

so being out of place was always expected
when i was over two months behind
from the beginning, the world was too fast
yet only time could catch me up.

i lagged behind groups of people
desperately intruding on conversations
it seems the natural flow of discussion
wasn’t innate to me, neither was
the coordination required for sports
or crafts, nor the patience for academics.

my battle with time has never ended
i wanted to stay in the warm vessel of nothingness
but it seems my twin brother knew better
than to stay in a body that couldn’t handle
the both of us. since then
i have mastered the art of wasting time wrapped up in blankets, wishing
to go back to that state
of complete dependence for just
a bit longer.

growing up going to the synagogue
i learned that religious texts
are like a guidebook to life.
i could never believe in any, so
i only prayed to the missing part of me
the part that belonged, the part that
had what was always missing, i could
only believe that there was a part of me
somewhere to depend on.

if my purpose is to belong somewhere
bigger than me, i can’t lose hope.
in the meantime i’ll pretend i enjoy
the solitude, it’s a half truth
as being nowhere is better
than being somewhere that rejects me.

I don't have a purpose
To take out to dinner.
My attachment won't stick
To anyone's company.
I'm a living, breathing,
Unnamed mountain, a pile high.
My morals are undecided
By anybody but myself, despite
Conscience. Morals limit. I'm trying
But this snapshot
Of heart in isolation
Is beginning to make me
Make me. And if that happens,
We see what an artist
I'll be.

Where are you
My final love?

I swear true
For you alone
Shall words I write

For you alone
My heart beat

For you alone
My fierce caress

For you alone
Laughter and tears

For you alone
My final death

Where are you
My final love?

Jammed circuitry and rubber
Touching the tympanic membrane
Replicating
But don't replace
The rainfall and cricket chirps
That may, in some vain hope,
Calm my neurons and synapses
To sleep. My carteledge aches
From the outer shells.

One day soon
I will lie in my own,
Where I will know each scratch
And creak
And moan from below
As my own,
And I can rest
In my own home.

I hate society—
not the word,
but the weight it straps to my back.

I hate judging eyes,
the kind that scan you like price tags
in stores you were never meant to enter.

I hate the whispers,
those secondhand sentences
stitched behind backs
then sweetened with smiles
when you turn around.

I hate the ungrateful—
the ones who drink from your cup
then ask why it wasn’t full enough.

I hate stone-throwers
in glass houses
who forget how loud
their own silence shatters
when truth hits back.

I hate the crowd—
the noise, the pretending,
the push to perform
when all I want
is to exist
in peace.

And sometimes,
I even hate the parts of me
still trying to belong
to a world
I no longer believe in.

Few dared to date Medusa,
For they feared being covered with contusions.
Those who did wore a blindfold to hide their eyes,
A blind date with fate and a disguise.

One of the braver men,
Who thought he could apprehend,
Medusa, his name was Trent.
He didn’t last long,
He took his blindfold off,
And like many before him,
He turned to stone and wasn’t heard from again.
Another challenger’s name was Wren,
Like the bird,
Medusa thought that was the strangest name she’d heard.
So, out of spite,
She reached across the table and exposed Wren’s eyes.
He gasped as his skin turned coarse,
Mouth open wider than a horse.
Medusa pushed him over,
Watched as he shattered,
And smiled to herself,
Even though she was lonelier than anyone else.

Medusa didn’t mean to be so cruel,
It was the consequences of her being used.
By a man to do things she didn’t want to do,
Unspeakable and terrible abuse,
She was the only one to lose.
So, she became a viper,
Her gaze became a noose.
Asphyxiation,
Righteous indignation.
She wouldn’t let herself be used again.

Finally, a man named Hunter arrived,
He tightened the blindfold around his eyes.
He sat across from Medusa, the table lit by candlelight,
She blushed, for he was quite a sight.
He reached across the table and shook her hand,
And he asked her if she had any plans.
She was taken aback, her mind rolling off the tracks,
Lost in a flashback, she babbled about tasks she had to do,
None of which was true.

Hunter laughed, a sound so sweet,
It made Medusa nearly fall out of her seat.
Was this the one she had been searching for?
Or was he just another liar?
Authenticity tends to hide,
Just like the scars Medusa had on her thighs.
One of her snakes whispered in her ear,
Advising her to ignore what she wanted to hear.
The snakes only wanted what was best,
But for whom? What was the purpose of their quest?

Hours passed by like comets,
First date turned into many happy moments.
Before Medusa could catch her breath,
Half a year had passed,
And Hunter had asked,
To see Medusa’s face.
She insisted that he didn’t,
But she knew he wouldn’t listen.
He lowered the blindfold,
As teardrops glistened,
Medusa thought she had just lost,
Her heart…

Hunter had heterochromia,
Left eye green, right eye a shimmering blue.
Medusa’s eyes were both red,
That pulsated in blossoming hues.
To both of their surprise,
Hunter didn’t turn to stone.
He captured her lips in a kiss,
Both of them were alone.
Medusa found the one who could see her,
She no longer had to hide.
Hunter loved Medusa,
It made her cry.

The world is filled with hurt people, like Medusa,
Who may push you away and leave you in contusions.
But underneath that deadly gaze,
Is a mountain of pain…

Cupid - Where are you?
Did you vanish in the blue?
Did you forget your bow?
Cause my heart is too low.

The sleepless nights
The empty sights
All Those come
But the leave me dumb.

Why is that I fall in love,
But they do not,
Why do your arrows curve
When my love has made knot.

Is it that all hate me,
Or just try to break me,
For all I can see
Is nothing in this endless sea

Find me at least one
Someone as bright as the sun,
Someone that would understand
The weight in my hand