if all the creatures in the world
blinked at once
would i still exist?

Some parts of your journey
Are only temporary
And maybe, this is one of them.

It teaches you a lesson
About losing, accepting
And at last, letting go.

It might feel heavy and dark
Yet that's where the light begins to seep in,
Slowly bringing you back home
To yourself.

TURN INTO ZOMBIES
WHILE OTHERS JUST
ROT IN THEIR GRAVES?

Zombies are just like you and me: they crave understanding and
physical displays of love. Many ex-lesbians report that their form-
er lovers often become "zombified" before jumping off the top of
the Washington Monument (obelisk). These jilted lovers are
like ice cream that doesn't get hard or Walmart cashiers
with large **** cysts that make squatting painful.

Giving fake smiles...
Hiding pain infront of family...
Confusion of what to share and what to hide...
Fear of perspective changes...
Fed up with sympathy around...
Being unloved...
One side efforts...
Losing loved ones ...
Getting stranger vibes from close ones...
Taking blame without fault...
Lack of clarity in life...
Handling panics on your own...
Bad?
Probably the worst!!
The silent struggles people go through — especially the pain that hides behind a smile and the burden of emotional isolation.

I watch my problems away
Only to add more
I watch my problems away
When I am happy
And I want to watch more
I think I watch my problems away
Only to add more
Until the reel has taken over the real
The real problem is the reel
And I can never ever watch my problems away, once more…
I want to scrub them away
They keep piling on the floor
They know what I like
And want me to subscribe
No I am not a fool
No not twice
I know I can’t watch my problems away

I
Dont
Understand
Life
I
Dont
Understand
Myself
I
Don't
Understand
Anything
I
Don'­t
Understand
Please
Help
Me
Understand
How
To
Survive
The
Calm
Af­ter
The
Storm
After
So
Long
Living
In
The
Hurricane

I could hear the
cracking and breaking,
the sound of metal ringing,
and then a thud.
I watched as the last piece of
self respect I had
got hauled off as I typed
the words,
“can you please consider me?”

This has to be like the
millionth time I have asked
A man that I’m dating if
he could treat me with the same respect
I give them.
And the answer is always no,
well in his case,
he won’t answer at all.

✦The Elsewhere Draft

It isn’t death.
Not in the way they told stories of it.
There are no tunnels, no lights,
no ledger of sins.

There is only this—
an unfinished page
floating between versions
of a world that never quite agreed on him.

He exists now
in the folds between edits,
in the italics no one remembers writing.

The clocks here don’t tick.
They hesitate.
The air tastes of typewriter ribbon,
dusty and old and waiting.

He’s tried to rewrite himself.
He’s left messages—
on paper, in dreams, in the weight of silence.
But stories are stubborn.
They follow the first draft
like it’s law.

And yet—
someone heard him.

A fingertip
brushed his absence
and read it like Braille.

She.

She is not like the others.
She feels the narrative bending,
even as the others stay inside the safe plotlines.

He watches.
Or rather—he is watched
by the idea of her.
Somewhere in her world,
his journal still waits to be opened.

He doesn’t know what happens
if she turns the next page.

But if she doesn’t,
he may remain here forever:
a sentence misplaced,
a man lost
between revisions.
#thought

I didn't know you existed
All my life I've been searching for you
Our eyes meeting
Hearts beating

From the first look I loved you
Our souls instantly intertwined
My hand caressing your cheek
Soft touches like how the water caresses the beach

I didn't know you existed
Until I finally found you

the lights of the cars, tram, subways
merging into a straight light,
people always on the move,
Part of the city wakes up
the other go to sleep,
time does not rest here

I always make these promises
and break them
I won’t ever be doing that again

Some people read my poetry
and think they know me.

Some wonder am I the romantic
I seem to be.

Is my life filled with passions,
and mystery?

Is it full of solitude,
Am I truly the lone wolf,
wandering the roads?

Am I carefree, charismatic,
mournful, spiritual, shy, decadent, tragic?

The answer is Yes, and No!

At times I've been all,
and even none of these.

Storyteller mostly, some fiction,
some reality.

And in the end you will see the me,
you want to see.

But that's ok, because,
I see you, and yes I even see me,
the same way.

dismember                          
the jamming fight of my breath
your reciting
the wit that exudes you
i hack mad laughs                      
the room becomes rude hot
              and we burst our fleshes
the seasons collect in some deafening syrup
but still the walls are music with vermin
mushroom tea       you and me

Someone hating on someone who's hating on and it goes on and on until someone else starts hating on someone who's hating on and on and on.

got the picture yet?
I bet the media has.