I sat in silence longer than I should,
not in prayer, nor peace—
but in that tight, bright place
where stillness hums too loud.

At first, it felt like safety:
no movement, no noise,
no eyes to meet,
no choices to disappoint.

I held my breath like a gift
wrapped in glass and guilt,
told myself
this is control—
this is clarity.

And in that tension,
the world sharpened.
Colors bloomed too vivid,
time slowed like sap from a wounded tree,
and I swore I saw truth
etched on the inside of my eyelids.

Some call it grace.
Some call it disassociation.
Some call it euphoria.
But it is stillness born from fear—
and even the stars blink.

Because what is stillness
if not a waiting room for pain?
A way to pause the scream
just long enough
to pretend we were never hurting?

I held still so long
the quiet became a voice,
the voice became a weight,
and the weight
felt like home.

But home shouldn’t suffocate you.

So I breathed.
A slow, raw, ragged thing—
the kind that stretches lungs
and makes the ribs ache
from use.

And with it came
not release,
not revelation,
but a simple, selfish need:
to live.

To move.
To tremble.
To scream.
To sing again.

Even if the voice cracks.
Even if no one listens.
Even if stillness comes back tomorrow—
I now know I can let go
before I burst.
-**

A woman, who’s really tired,
Hasn’t even go to bed.
It’s past midnight and all over again.
Her bed’s still fully made.

A woman, who’s really tired,
Forgot what sleep is.
She spent herself but stably accepted
Her Destiny’s painful decrees.

A woman, who’s really tired,
Wants simply and plainly to be.
She stopped laughing long ago.
She rarer wants to speak.

A woman, who’s really tired
Of blaming herself for breathe,
A woman, who’s still feeling,
Has simply the right to live!

When the weight of the world wraps tight round your chest,
And the days blur with ache, with no time to rest.
When the mind is a maze, and the breath feels thin,
And life drums too loud beneath trembling skin.

Pause...

Let the frantic pulse soften, the whirlwind grow still,
There’s no prize for the climb when it shatters your will.
This body, this heart, this soul made of grace,
Was not born to outrun some invisible race.

The throb in your temples, the twist in your gut,
The nights spent awake, mind slammed quickly shut.
These are whispers, not weakness, a plea from within,
“Be gentle, be kind. Let soft love begin.”

The world will not crumble if you step aside,
To breathe, to be quiet, to let stillness abide.
You are not lazy for tending your flame,
You are sacred and strong, not a cog in a game.

So cradle your fears like a child in your arms,
Speak softly to pain, disarm its alarms.
Rest is a right, not something to earn,
It’s the hearth of your healing, the place you return.

For stress may steal minutes, and wear on the soul,
But kindness and care can make broken things whole.
The bravest of hearts are the ones that confess,
“I need to slow down. I’m weary. I’ll rest.”

So lie in the stillness, let worries be few,
The most beautiful promise begins now with you.

I am this way
Because you are all that way;
You are that way
Because we are all this way -
We are this way
Because it is all so confusing!

I tell you though,
Meditate.
I heard it's healthy.

I tell you though,
Foster Silence.
For it's good for our mentality.

I tell you though,
Focus your breathing.
They say it's good for your brains.

breathe in 1...2...3...4
hold 1...2...3...4...5
exhale 1...2...3...4...5...6...7
repeat
repeat
repeat until the anxiety goes away
until your heart stops hammering
until your stomach doesn't churn
until your breath isn't rapid
until your mind calms
and you can move one

Something inside me
A weak arm tensed
Finding the mettle
Blood pumping
Power for winged escape
Across subterranean
Winter and May
You bang the drum
Strength of the world
For some kind of catapult
Which fires you into dismay
Too distraught at disorders
Sabotaging destructive nonsense
Bordering on the edge
Drifting into red
Colder than blue
Mood as consistent as milk
Souring upon sunny bloom
Fragile blossoming
As sensitive as can be
Broken from tiredness
Losing from little use
Truth is
Feel useless
Inside me
Something different
Pushes me
Towards something
Which feels
Quite new

Desire has its fingers in every single fold of my being.
Yearning for the relief of connection
that brings me down to my knees
in front of my own femininity; the temple of my womanhood.

War is over.
The men can come home to their wives.
Who held their breath,
counting the hours like prayers
awaiting their arrival.

I want a love I’ve waited lifetimes for.
A love that stretches thick among the stars.
I want to touch every crooked fold in your being
imprint a sliver of my light on your darkness.
You hold your heater in my defense.
ready to black the sky on those who attempt to dim my light.

I’m built to consume, to ravage.
It’s in my destiny to be reborn by something delicate as a kiss.
Shall I always want more?
Like the kidnapping of my heart

As if, it was never mine.