just a simple question,
dressed as a metaphor —

where do i get buried
when i can barely breathe on this earth?
kind of like a suffocation so deep,
filling my very being —
in my veins.
oh, i feel so weak.

invisible cuts bleed,
a kind of self-punishment.
spent so long handing out pieces of myself
like fragile offerings
to daily otherworldly deities —
hoping to provide
even an inch of comfort
that i usually needed.

was it ever enough?

yet called names, looked at in strange ways —
speculated every moment,
like a statue in an odd place.
as if they see through it all —
all the façade
of being high up on the clouds.

humorous, it shall be,
if they were to see
the stricken sounds i make —
grief-filled,
and vowing to never
ever let a pair of hands
hold my heart again.

this bleeds.
aches so tenderly —
like trying to whisper through a scream,
like trying to write to a hollow
that doesn't seem to cease,
like an overflowing cannon
that just never really spills.

will this be seen
as that quiet, raw, untamed beauty?
beast-like,
trying to hold it
within the grasp of stiff hands?

have they felt a little less alone?
perhaps in my company —
for i wouldn't want them to go
into the same feelings
of never being heeded to.

i wished they'd see,
but i'm walked all over through.

can't help it —
yeah, i know.
always left wondering:
why can't i comfort
with words
as they're meant to?

they feel like smoke and silence —
barely hard to describe
or to put down.
the heaviness
heaves a sigh
every time i spread my arms
a bit around.

maybe connections are hard.
maybe i should be quieter.

speaking has never helped —
perhaps i should tie
my hands,
my feet,
my mouth —

and vanish?
disappear?
become a ghost without a heartbeat —
because i haven’t really
been living either.

will you listen to the echoes
of these voices —
and the way they sound
in the night,
and when the sun dawns,
and the skies align?

will you see?
will you listen
to me?

i've got something,
a feeling of all sorts

if there's anything i have learned
through the entirety of my growth
it's to know and understand
and find the right moment
where i have to twist and wring and pull
such a tight knot in my chest,
just so none of my feelings
would sleep anywhere close
to those they are concerned for
or took birth 'cause of

barely tried for 407 hours,
simply gave up

always a mix and combination of almost
never the forever
always a something,
never the nothing's everything

i will wring out my heart
until every single drop
of this newly found heartbreak
breaks me from within
and does not seep
into anyone else's thought

but what if i meant
i wanted to disappear
only to be found
by the one who has enough time
and enough want
to actually search for me?

some days i despise
having this weak, old, ratty heart
that is attached to the tip of my finger,
not even the sleeves—
and slips itself
into the pocket of anyone
who so much as breathes

do not despise the love i feel
(even though doing the gulp of acceptance
is like drinking lemon
straight from the pet it's found in.)

In beauty's embrace, majestic with grace

Soothing, yet a lingering sense of sadness filled up the place,

Unwanted thoughts wind up like a haphazardly tied lace

Been alone countless times won't deny

Maybe it'll be over soon, sighs

I did cry, but I won't pry, I must try and try and try, relentlessly, I don't know why?

Something tells me to do so, and no I won't ask any questions, I'm too tired.

My head feels heavy and it feels cold

Yes, I am a reckless fool, but let truth be told,

hold up, behold,

A free soul, got locked up, in a stronghold, due to freefall, did a reroll, felt an unease, faulty threshold, with a default,
Setting.

Yet I thrived on, not with violence, but with a smile on,
Dreams engulfed in darkness, yet persevered and fight on.
Emotions masked, I fight on, a battle of silence, I reckon

I'm a lost soul at a crossroad, with no hope, yet I try on,
I hold my head up high, a bit shy, but I try
To change the narrative, to rewrite my sky.

I see the highs, I see the lows,
Life's a cinematic film, beautifully composed.
It's real though, no retries, no cheats,
A mistake made, a life fades, "Scream!" echoes in the streets.

Skill issue, you say? Perhaps it's true,
The presence of another is a dream I pursue.

Alas, my fumbling technique never ceases to amuse,
Back to solitude, melancholy's muse.

Walking up the road less travelled by, devoid of any gleam,
A haunting daydream, or so it would seem.

No destination, no direction, just endless extremes,
A conflicted response, a ghastly gleam.

Alone through the time, a truth I've known,
Helplessness grips, a silent pathetic moan.

Guilty, vulnerable, yet a soul set free,
I hate to admit it, but I won't concede.

Heartbreaks, anxieties, failures persist,
Giving up is foolishness, not on my list.

Break me, bury me, all for your thrill,
My body may perish, but never will my will.

Intrusive thoughts roam around, Like I’m fallin’ off of a cliff
The desire to bounce back is sharper than you think
I'm not the one who's drowned here man,
I stand alone, like a “Poneglyph”
My spirit untouched, my soul unbound like a monolith

A rowdy spirit, scorned with disdain,
I'll mock you still, throughout the pain.

I choose my role and I define my fate,
Your words, your arrogance, I disrespectfully negate.

In defiance, I speak with a voice loud and clear,
"The path is treacherous, hearts break, I fear."

The soul’s burnin’, seeking a purpose anew,
To burn it all down, tired of feeling blue.

A voice echoes, a spiteful chill,
Fate falters frivolously front of a mortal's will,
The birth of a legend, just like the Hercules’ will

The poem concludes, a profound standstill,
A journey through emotions, in verses that I instill.
                                                                             -Asher Graves

They say life is a show that must go on,
but what happens when the show is over,
when the music fades,
the sun sets, and the curtains close?

Will everyone forget the wrong I've done,
the pain I caused?
Will they clap when the show is over—
find reasons for me to be missed?

Will the ones I love—
when they feel empty—
keep me
in their memory?

I've caused pain,
made people cry,
broken hearts—
but will any of that matter
when the curtains close?
Tears have been shed.
Will they care what I've done?
Will they stutter my name?

Will I be able to rest easy—
knowing everyone thinks of me fondly,
and leaves out the rest?

The ones who once hated me,
will they be able to forget,
and love me for the memory I bring—
leave out the rest?

Please, find a reason for me to be missed.
Forget the rest.

Time is ticking—
I only have so much—
time,
before the curtain
makes the credits roll.

Please, don't resent me
for the things I've done.

Leave the hatred,
leave the pain,
the tears—
with the closing curtains.
Find reasons to miss me.
Let me live as a fond memory—
before my time comes,
and the curtains close.

Io! Maestro dell'essere,
mente a scacchi,
pronta a muovere la prossima pedina
con apatia e ordine. Ordine.

Non implorerò, mai, di avere
un nuovo paio di occhi
che non vedano in bianco e nero,
magari solo meno ingenui, idioti.

Ormai non mi vedo più nello specchio:
spalle, alzate.
Schiena, inarcata.
Capo chino. Pietoso. Indegno!

** già tutto quello che mi serve:
mani di pietra e velluto,
una fronte, rugosa, che parla,
risate tra il folle, e il nobile. Nobile.

///

Me! Master of being,
chess mind,
ready to move the next pawn
with apathy and order. Order.

I will, never, beg to have
a new pair of eyes
that do not see in black and white,
maybe just less naive, idiotic.

I no longer see myself in the mirror:
shoulders, raised.
Back, arched.
Head bowed. Pitiful. Unworthy!

I already have everything I need:
hands of stone and velvet,
a forehead, wrinkled, that speaks,
laughter between the madman, and the noble. Noble.

baby, don't
misunderstand

internal
struggles
are a mess

all i've got
is hope

that one day,
i'll find solid
ground

so i can return
to myself

and safely land.

return to sender,
i will not surrender;

this postcard is
a testament.

i promise you that
my will is strong,

and i will find
solace and center

because
i didn't make
it this far

to give up
on a future
together,

forever.

so baby, please
understand

internal
struggles
are a mess.

all i've
got is hope

and my word
that one day,

i'll return
to myself

and safely land.

I met a version of myself,
A past that lived in quiet hell,
His shoulders weighed with untold truths,
In his eyes, the ghosts of youth.

He stood, proud but lost inside,
A prisoner of dreams denied,
I knelt in shame, a ghost of me,
Torn between what was and could be.

"You know," I said, "you've been this way,
Caught in a cage where shadows play,
But let me tell you, now I see,
You're still inside of me, and free."

He smiled with pain, the truth untold,
"I never wanted this, you know—
This life of striving to please the blind,
The masks we wore, the thoughts we mined."

But in his eyes, I saw the change,
A flicker in the dark, so strange,
And I realized, as time flew past,
We'd both been caught, both built to last.

Now here I stand, no more a slave,
No longer bound to past’s dark wave,
I freed myself, and freed him too,
The shackles gone, the world anew.

And though the road remains unclear,
I hold his voice, I hold it near,
For in his steps, I see my own—
The strength I’ve sought, now fully grown.

The shame, the guilt, they start to fade,
Replaced by light, by love’s cascade,
And in that moment, I finally see,
That all I sought was always me.

I chased a river that flowed not for me,
A desert thirst, in need of a touch,
But it never quenched, nor did it set me free—
A ghost of water, the hollow's crutch.

Yet still I ran, for the race was the relief,
And the thirst was never gone,
The closer I came, the deeper my grief,
But I knew, I knew, I had to move on

One side craves the fleeting touch,
Another longs for something real,
Both of them, a tangled clutch,
Waging war inside my mind's steel.

I feel the pull, the burn, the tug,
Both sides whispering to my soul—
One says, "Stay," the other says, "Let go,"
And I am left, alone, with no control

The screen glows with false embrace,
A fleeting balm to soothe my pain,
A world of warmth in pixel’s grace,
But as it fades, so does the gain.

The comfort, fleeting, like morning mist,
It wraps me up, then fades away—
But in that warmth, my heart persists,
To search for solace, come what may

Beyond the Glass
I seek a hand I cannot touch,
A voice that whispers through the screen,
In virtual spaces, I crave so much,
The love I’ve never yet seen.

But still, I reach, I yearn, I chase,
For something more than pixel's light—
I long to find a sacred space,
Where hearts can meet beyond the night

What am I but fragments, torn,
Pieces scattered in the dust?
I need to rebuild, from what I’ve mourned,
Relearn the way, and find the trust.

I see the cracks, but there’s no fear,
Only a chance to fill the space—
To build anew, to reappear,
To find my strength, to find my place

A clash of needs, a war of wants,
One says to chase the fleeting thrill,
Another urges, “Wait, be strong,”
The heart is torn, the soul stands still.

For what is comfort but a cage?
And what is pain but growth’s sweet sting?
To choose the short-term for the wage,
Or face the future, and let it sing?

I wander through the uncertain haze,
The road unknown, but filled with choice,
A path unmarked, in shadowed maze,
I seek a light, I seek a voice.

What is it all, but one grand test?
The answers fade before my eyes—
But in the struggle, in the quest,
I find the truth beneath the lies

I stare into the glass that cracks,
And find a face I do not know—
The cracks are me, but not the facts,
The truth is hidden in the glow.

Who am I, when all is gone?
A shadow lost, a broken dream?
But in the void, I carry on,
For in my mind, I still may gleam.

This consistent need to change
This burning desire to be better
Am I slowly changing for good
Or is it good that I am changing ?
I think a lot, speak a little
I dream a lot, act a little
This constant void that I feel in my Life
Why, why, why, I think to myself yet again
Caught in this trap of monotonous mind battles