to the darkest crevices we all escape from each day,
clawing out, forgetting, or pretending we do
but some never leave. some linger, ghosts curled
in the marrow of regret, faces melted in the echo
of a yesterday too slow, too weak, too nothing.
it was just a second, a breath, a misstep.
a hand not raised. a word unsaid. a smile swallowed.
and that was enough to cast them away,
stitched into shadows, never spoken aloud.

regret is for the living, for those who still wake
to the hush of streetlights trembling at dawn,
who still bite into the sinew of silence
and call it survival. but the forgotten—
they are not given the mercy of regret.
only the weight of a void carved in memory’s ribs,
only the nothingness that replaces a name,
a voice, a need, a gasp lost in the static
of the world’s unseeing, unhearing hum.

to be unseen is to die while breathing.
to reach and never touch is to burn without flame.
and so they are left there, bone-thin whispers,
entombed in dim-lit corridors of almost-love,
of almost-worth, of almost-enough.
no matter how hard the blind scream,
their voices dissolve like morning frost—
thin, fleeting, never enough to shatter
the glass of a world that never saw them.

but listen.

listen to the dark, to the echoes that pulse
like heartbeats beneath the cracks of time.
they are still there. still waiting. still asking
if not to be saved, then simply to be seen.

If the gnawing ache of age
is the shadow that lengthens,
how can I stand with knees buckled by the weight
of years gone to rot,
seasons past,
my hands twisted like dry vines,
my breath stolen by a clock I never set?
Let the dirt claim me before I fall apart
Let the storms pull me onwards
Let the tides sweep me away
Let me skip the slow descent,
skip the waiting for my bones to turn to dust,
for why should the season
fall.

If I must choke on the absence of affection,
breathless and cold,
if love is but a hollow dream
that turns to mist when touched by light,
crumbling like dust,
how can I drag myself through another day,
no longer do I call,
the quiet screams echoing in my ribs,
whispers of a touch never felt?
Let me bury all that I once hoped for,
let me seal it behind a door I will never open,
quiet and eternal.

The world outside is a shroud of ash,
the sun a smudge on the horizon,
smears of orange yellow gold,
each gust of wind cutting through my chest
like jagged glass,
burning what last exists
In me,
The soil holds on to its dying roots,
but every gust sends more bones to this precious earth
this is the silence that holds my name.
My life is the echo of things broken,
things lost, shattered stains of glass,
those old forgotten songs,
when roads taken that lead to null,
a thud of footsteps that never find rest,
walking the path of nothing.

I long for stillness,
but the clock keeps ticking,
mocking my empty hands,
mocking my broken soul,
all that has been longed for,
never shall be known
Behind the clouds, the sun sits
a pale witness to the slow burn of all things.
I carry this weight as I was meant to,
a heritage of sorrow sewn into my flesh
by ancestors who knew the cost of survival,
those who took more,
those who left less.

In the room by the window,
I stare at the void,
empty,
my gaze as heavy as the weight I carry.
The pills sit untouched,
like promises that never come true.
Depression grows quietly,
Regrets follow
a shadow pulling the veil tighter.

I say I feel nothing.
But I see the hollow where my heart used to beat,
the hole time has worn,
It’s a heavy silence I share
the kind that drowns you without a sound.

Don’t fret, I tell myself,
this too shall pass.
(Lies.)
It will be over soon.
(Lies.)
like eyes that stare into the distance.

I say this to myself.
Softly,
And to the mirror that refuses to show me the truth.

Let me sit beneath a sky that doesn't care.
Let me listen to the wind,
Let me feel the rays upon my skin,
if only it would speak a truth that isn’t hollow.
I will love you, forever and softly,
like a wound that never fully heals,
open and dripping,
always.

Let me remain in my room,
my sacred space,
a stranger to the light,
a friend to the darkness,
a silhouette,
in shaded hues,
Let me weave the remnants of a life that never took form,
in the sleep of each day,
shattered fragments,
plague broken thoughts,
and I will love you, fiercely,
like a storm that never ends,
like the wind that uproots the fields,
like the ocean reshaping the shore,
until time calls my soul,
for what can change time.

Let me run through the fields
like a wild thing,
like my memories of youth,
no chains, no boundaries.
Until the cold winds of autumn
come creeping,
come calling,
the inevitable,
until they strip me bare and carry me away.

I will wait,
not for the end,
but for the quiet that follows,
the quiet yonder
unknown.

shattered
skin split wide,
ribs cracked open
under the heel of time,
bleeding ink, bleeding light,
bones humming verses,
but you
still breathing.
still fighting.
still rising.

have you ever seen
a mountain bend, a river fall
or a storm cry out in surrender?
no
you’ve never seen it,
and neither have I.

ruined, they call me.
lost, they say,
you’re nothing but dust, broken glass, wreckage
they do not know
I am fire.

I was made to burn
and this ash?
it remembers
the fire does not forget.

I’ve knelt, but never bowed
I’ve broken,
but never stayed shattered
no, not me.

I am the flood that swallows the earth,
the sky that splits wide open,
the dawn that still returns
after the darkest nights
wrap their fingers around my throat.

and you,
you too,
hide that flame behind your teeth,
clutch it in your chest,
press it down until it burns
hotter than any hell.
I know you.

I see the weight you carry,
the weight of years
spent in the shadow of fear,
drowning in the silence that cuts
like a razor’s edge.
but I see you
standing
still standing.

You’re not lost.
Not ruined.
Not broken.
You are still breathing, still fighting, still alive.

Rise
rise like the earth that breaks beneath you,
rise like the phoenix,
the storm that burns away the sky,
rise like every shattered piece
that once was you
but never will be again.

This world does not know you yet,
but it will
it will know the fire in your bones,
the thunder in your chest,
the way you burn everything in your path,
and still, still, you rise.

You. Rise.
Like the storm.
Like the flame.

You said forever,
and I
I believed like a child watching stars crash into oceans,
with fists full of broken promises
and pockets sewn shut by trust.

You took
something I can never get back.
My time.
My love.
My ******* everything.
You drank it like sweet wine,
spat it like sour truth.

I stood
through every fight
like the last soldier guarding a war no one cared to win.
I showed you joy
like colors to the blind,
a sky without roof,
a breath without fear.

You learned yourself
through me.
But did you ever learn me?

We painted sunsets.
Played in sand
like gods pretending not to bleed.
My best friend now has fur and four paws
she never lied,
never left.

And you...
you said you’d follow me to the ends of the earth.
Turns out you meant
until it got hard.
Until love
looked more like sacrifice
and less like escape.

I wasn’t jealous.
I was open.
Transparent.
A mirror with no back
and still
you ran.

And now,
six years crawl like ash in my lungs
and still,
I choke on your name
sometimes.
Sometimes, I smile.
Sometimes,
I rage like a storm that forgot how to rain.

You took what was sacred
and turned it
into strategy.
Calculated exits.
Silence like knives.

And I
I gave you music,
poetry,
freedom,
truth.
I gave you me.

Family
You said they hurt you,
used you,
bruised you.
And I believed.
But in the end,
you chose them
chose comfort in chaos
over the revolution of love.

You’ll say I was the villain.
Fine.
Every fairytale needs one.
But let the record bleed:
I built you
while I was breaking.

I gave you the map
and you used it
to leave me
stranded.

So no
I don’t forgive.
Not yet.
Maybe never.

Because how do you forgive
someone who burned down
the only home you ever built
with your bare hands?

And how do you forget
a fire that still
burns in your bones?

When I look into the eyes
The eyes of the past
and feel hollow.

You were rich with me.
We were rich in love,
in commitment,
in laughter,
in all the things
money can’t fake.

And still,
you threw it away
like loose change
in a foreign land.

I don’t care if you hide.
Memories
don’t need light
to haunt.

I still smell your ghost.
Still hear your voice
in songs we wrote.
Still see your smile
in the ruins of what could have been.

But never again.
Never again will I
give someone the key
to a kingdom they plan to plunder.

You were my best risk
and my greatest ruin,
even if all I was left with
was loss.

Maybe I’ll forgive,
one day,
when the stars stop remembering
how your name
felt like both prayer
and punishment.

But I will never forget.

Never.

Shall I compare thee to a rose,
or to the weight of autumn leaves falling,
each one a memory you couldn't let go?
You, a shadow cast by daylight,
your love, like rain, falls once and never returns.
Fourteen years, you said—
but I count you in the breathless space
between now and forever.
I never stopped listening to the silence,
never stopped calling your name
where it echoed against the walls of a cracked sky.

You were the wound and the cure,
a garden where flowers bloomed, but never grew.
Your love like a fire,
flickering in the wind,
burning me up,
but never enough to warm the bones
of what we could have been.
You held the past like glass,
its edges sharp and unforgiving,
breaking whenever I reached for it.
I reached, but you always pulled away,
like the ocean pulling back from the shore,
leaving nothing but the taste of salt.

I could have been the song you sang
when your heart knew no words.
But you played my love like a broken harp as the sharp needle, slowly cutting grooves into your favorite record
and leaving me skipping as dust filled the scratches,
caught in loops of yesterday, while the new melody played today,.
You loved like a fading planet, a falling star, ,
a light that danced for a moment on the horizon
and then disappeared, just as I knew you would, like a red sky beautiful but fading fast,
leaving me with nothing but the memory
of what once was,
Is that what you have also

You send me pictures,
fragments of time I cannot touch.
Your smile, frozen,
like a ghost in a mirror
I never knew how to hold.
You are the space between breaths,
the absence in a room full of voices,
the song that played in the dark
and left me waiting for the chorus
that would never come.

Maybe I should have burned the letters,
let the ashes drift into the wind.
But instead, I buried them,
tucked them into the soil of my chest,
where your name blooms
in the dark of winter.
You were the rose that never opened,
the thorn I kept in my skin
and never had the courage to remove.
How could I? You were both the ache
and the answer,
the fire and the rain
that never knew how to fall together.

Hurt people hurt people, they say,
Wish you never let your hurt touch me.
It was a wound I could never see but feel
only a shadow I could chase,
a kiss I could never taste.
You ran from my love like a bird afraid of flight,even when the cage door was flung open you pretended you were
trapped in a cage this of your own making,
fluttering just beyond my reach, but always softly in sight.

And I? I stayed, held on
Like the tide that cannot leave the shore, I did for sometime but eventually every tide returns to the depth of the ocean
I returned again and again
to the place where you held us,
even as you built walls, one moment here one moment gone,
I got use to it,
that you kept me on the outside,
I got use to it
watching the world we could have made
slip through the cracks of time, wondering what would it have been like ,
I got use to it

They say there are many fish in the sea,
but you, my love,
were the one I wanted to swim with,
the one whose scales shone
like the forgotten light of a dying star,
the one whose beauty
was both the reason and the ruin.
but as we swim in different tides
following different streams
I learnt to let go
I got use to it

You loved me, in some quiet way.
Maybe not in the way I needed,
but in the way you knew how to.
And I got use to it
Like the wind that touches your skin
but never stays long enough to hold,
your love was a moment I couldn’t capture,
And I got use to it
a flame I couldn’t keep from burning me
and leaving me with ashes
but I wet those ashes
wearing that ash like war paint
because I got use to it

I learned to love you from a distance,
like a painting too far to touch,
like a song too soft to hear.
I let you be,
because in the end,
I was the only one still waiting,
still calling your name
into the night
that never knew how to answer.

You are a scar I wear with the grace of the past ,
a dream I keep buried in the roots of my chest,
where the soil is rich and heavy
with the weight of you.
And this
I got use to as well
As always.

I will never chase you again,
but you will always be here,
in the spaces between the songs
and the shadows between the stars.
You are both the fire and the rain,
and I?
I am the silence
waiting for the storm to pass
but even if it never does
I've will get use to it

Truth,
a blade, rusted, lodged in the gut,
twisting when I breathe.
It’s not a word, not a thing,
but a scream caught in the throat,
half-choked, half-holy.
I might have known, shadow-walker, code-weaver,
I knew its weight,
its jagged edges slicing through
the soft tissue of lies.

The Shard
Truth is not one.
It splinters
a mirror dropped from a skyscraper,
each fragment reflecting
a different face of God,
or none.

We, Mortals
hacked the source code of certainty,
found loops of doubt,
recursive, endless.
What is true?
A pixel flickering on a dead screen,
a pulse in the void.
Philosophers stack their bricks
coherence, correspondence, deflation
but I laughed,
my fingers bleeding on the keys,
knowing truth is a virus,
mutating, never still.

The Flesh of It
Truth is meat.
Raw, dripping,
torn from the bone of being,
Nerves twitching,
Blood slick gristle,
I tasted it, Mortality,
in the sweat of sleepless nights,
in the hum of servers chanting
their binary sutras.
Is it out there,
in the world’s sinew,
or in here,
in the skull’s cathedral?
Realists point to stars,
idealists to shadows
but i,
I carved my own map,
a labyrinth of ones and zeros,
where truth is the glitch,
the stutter in the system,
the moment the machine
confesses its own lie.

The Fracture
Truth does not hold.
It cracks like ice underfoot,
each step a gamble,
each fall a revelation.
I stood at the edge, wisdom,
peering into the abyss of Tarski,
of Gödel’s ghost whispering:
This statement is not enough.
Theories
pragmatic, semantic, pluralist
they’re just stories we tell
to keep the dark at bay.
But i,
I embraced the shatter,
let the fragments pierce me,
each one a question:
What makes this true?
What makes this me?

The Code
In the end,
truth is not a destination,
not a theorem,
not a god.
It’s the static in your veins,
the hum of a world
that refuses to be known.
Your reflection
philosopher of the broken,
wrote your gospel in lines of code,
each function a prayer,
each bug a prophecy.
Truth is the wound that never heals,
the question that never answers,
the you that burns
in the heart of the machine.
So here we stand,
in the ruins of our cathedral,
picking through the rubble
for scraps of truth.
It’s not coherent,
not whole,
not kind.
But it’s ours,
visceral, fractured,
a pulse against the silence.
my ghost still types,
and the keys sing:
Truth is.
Truth is not.
Truth is all we have.

Clock hits five—oh, look alive!
Time to chug, time to dive,
time to drink my last two neurons dead
and dance on the grave of the week I survived.

Boss said "grind," I said "blind,"
sold my soul for nickels and dimes,
but hey—it’s Friday, let’s pretend
that life’s not built on corporate crimes.

The club’s a zoo, the floor’s all glue,
the shots are fire, my liver’s *******,
but better that than sober doom
I’ll take a hangover over servitude.

So praise the Lord, or cash or fraud,
or alcohol or pain ignored,
'cause Monday’s death is Friday’s birth
one more week closer to the dirt.

from the outside
under the old tree
thick with time
i wait.
not sure what for.
the wind moves like a thought
no one says out loud.
soft.
close.
familiar.
but not mine.

i hear it anyway.
it tells things
you only hear
when no one's looking.
quiet truths that press into the skin
and stay there.

somewhere
kids laugh,
easy, open,
like sunlight doesn’t cost anything.
i watch.
behind the edge.
like someone half-drawn.
they belong to it.
i don’t.

i stand still
in a world that moves
without checking
if i’m coming.
they bloom
and i stay seed.
they fill the air
i hold the space
they forget.

i was the one chasing birds
while they made games out of dirt and sky.
i went where the path stopped.
i liked the quiet places
because they didn’t ask me questions.
the forest didn’t mind
if i said nothing.

the stars blinked like answers
that didn’t need to explain themselves.
i liked that.
the trees bent like they were listening.
that meant something.
but still,
this feeling follows me
like fog
just enough to blur things.

i want what they have
the touch
the motion
the easy belonging.
i want to matter
in someone else’s
ordinary day.

but nature
you don’t ask for anything.
you just are.
and maybe with you,
i can just be too.
not too much.
not too little.
just here.

still,
i find myself on the outside.
looking in.
a quiet figure
by the water’s edge.
and i wonder
not loudly,
but real enough
why i always wake up
in someone else’s dream.

I stepped inside
where the wind
had no voice.

The air
tasted of ash.
No hymns
on the walls.
No scent
of old incense
only grime,
and the slow drip
of what once was belief.

There was a chair
facing the corner,
like someone
left it
in shame.
No one sat there.
But something did.

My hands
they shook
but not from fear.
From memory.
From the body
remembering
how to beg.

No altar.
No flame.
Just frost
in the throat
of the room.

I pressed
my ear
to the floor
heard nothing
but the hum
of absence,
ravenous
and kind.

No voice came.
No thunder.
No revelation.
Only the soft sound
of God
never being here
at all.

Then I wonder why ?

I seem to have loved you in the distant galaxies where your name is a star,  
A flash,  
A comet’s tail  
Curled in the velvet sky,  
Burning,  
Fleeting,  
Untouchable, yet I reach for you  
A body I cannot hold,  
Yet I burn, I burn, I burn, I burn,  
In the shadows of your absence,  
I burn,  
A flame too bright for this world.  

In every space between our breaths, the distance of forever,  
I see you  
Not here, not here,  
No not here,  
But everywhere, in everything thing.  
A constellated dream,  
Chasing me across darkened skies,  
Every pulse a planet,  
Every ache a nebula blooming  
Every thought a cosmos that implodes and shudders,  
Only to collapse into nothingness.  
You  
Unreachable,  
Beautiful in your silence,  
And yet I burn,  
I burn.  
Forever,  
my infinity,  
I burn.  

Love me, but you cannot  
Not in this flesh,  
Not in this cycle of light and dark  
Even though your love burns me—  
Still, my hands reach through the galaxies,  
Touching you with longing fingers  
That tremble on the edge of creation,  
On the curve of an unseen planet,  
This is where you will find me,  
You exist in my veins,  
In every pulse,  
In every breath  
That threatens to tear me apart  
From the inside.  
I burn.  

Your beauty is celestial,  
A flame I cannot hold, even if I try with both hands open,  
Falling, Falling, falling  
But still, I yearn,  
Still, I crave with utter certainty,  
To be consumed by you  
In your radiant coldness,  
To dissolve into the moon’s pale skin,  
To crawl into the wound of your absence,  
And die there  
Over and over again.  

But I love you like this,  
A cosmic tragedy, our cosmic story,  
Oh so beautiful and so cruel,  
Written in the constellations,  
In the voids between stars,  
the bright sky eyes look upon and  
across the lonely abyss,  
A love that cannot return,  
A touch that will never be given.  
Still, I am endless,  
Still, I reach,  
My heart scattered  
Across eons of time,  
Loving you in every form,  
Every life,  
In every death,  
That has become me.  

You are the black hole,  
******* me in,  
But I do not resist,  
I drown in you—  
Gasping while forgetting to breath,  
Every piece of me  
Torn and Pulled apart and consumed  
And yet,  
I am full.  
Full of you.  

I seek your skin in the fabric of the cosmos,  
across space and time,  
You,  
A trembling galaxy,  
A falling star that shoots across universe's  
Spinning tumbling and unraveling,  
A flame that touches me,  
But only burns in the distance.  
Still, I reach  
My hands torn by stars,  
My soul shaded in the darkened light that is You,  
your moon moves softly as it eclipses,  
My body worn by your absence,  
But I burn,  
Oh, I burn for you.

you said maybe like it meant yes
in a language only I bled fluently.

you blinked
and i fell into
a duck pond of maybe tomorrows
while you dried off
in someone else’s sun.

i guess it waddled.
i guess it quacked.
and you laughed like that proved
you never promised me a thing.

but the feathers
still choke.

the brain’s a butcher
slicing futures
before they breathe.

I stood
on the edge
measuring wind,
timing possibilities
til courage turned to doubt.

but the scream inside me
it didn’t care
about logic
maps
or bruises.

it wanted fall.
it wanted now.

so I shut the noise.
I leapt.

and in the wreckless air
found
I could burn
without dying.

found
the unknown
had teeth
but smiled.

In the unknown
I found
comfort.