Sometimes I can't hardly breathe                                                          ­     I  have  a landslide of emotions in me                                                        that  gives me a bit of anxiety                                                          ­             and   I  struggle  with  my sensitivity                                                      ­   I  feel everything so deeply                                                           ­                 that  opens  me to vulnerability                                                    ­   but  I  don't  believe I am the only one                                                              ­                           or  there  wouldn't  be  any love songs                                                            ­    I am an admirer of writing  poetry                                                 somewhere  I  can let myself be free                                                             ­ pencil  and  paper  allow  me  to be                                               as  open  and honest as I want to be                                         While  I  write  it flows out of me                                                              without fear of scrutiny                                                         ­                      The  one place I can really let go                                                               ­           of  so  many feelings  others don't know

Thy the art
Thy my heart
Its beat and the heat
Pointless drift in pure chaos
Filled with islands of all the kinds
Some bearing peace, some with joy
Deep dark paths, and killer traps
Waters of kindness, hunts for the stillness
Ever growing numbers of unsaid beliefs
Merry go around overwhelming bluntness
I wish I knew how to steer the ship
Would have been pointless even so,
Since I am not sure what I am in
Is it ocean? Of fire for a change?
Or a vast blank space of the universe maybe?
My my, is this the first?
Ever been the same with anyone?
Doesn't matter anyway I guess
I know this is inexplicable
So, I am not waiting for advice

i bypassed everything and went straight for the neck
not out of cruelty
but because I was tired of pretending
I didn’t want the truth raw
unfiltered
still pulsing
I didn’t want the small talk
the polite detours
the scenic route through your curated grief
I wanted the place where your voice breaks
where the mask slips
where the ache lives without apology
I bypassed the stories you rehearsed
the ones with clean endings
the ones you tell at parties
to make your pain sound poetic
I wanted the version you don’t write down
the one that stutters
the one that bleeds
I bypassed the eyes
the hands
the heart
all the places people say love lives
I went for the neck
because it’s where the pulse hides
where the breath catches
where the body remembers
what the mind tries to forget
I didn’t mean to be violent
I intended to be honest
I meant to say
I see you
without the armor
without the script
without the smile you wear
when you lie
I bypassed everything
because I didn’t want the version of you
that survived
I wanted the version
that still doesn’t know how

It’s not over, I’ve got paper and ink
I’m not done with what I think
A thought for the moment, here in time
A word for the page, all in rhyme

Drifting, my mind picks a spot
Telling it all, everything I’ve got
Wouldn’t try and change it
Didn’t try to rearrange it

These things just happen to me
Once a thought, my pen makes me see
Twisting and turning, inside my mind
Words and feelings only I can find

9/12/25

These memories are

feelings, with vague images --


floating over them.

No matter how your head fell on my shoulder,
No matter how your hand searched for mine,
Asking me to hold it in yours-
As the weather grew colder,
You grew colder too.

I swore I wouldn’t get attached.
So what am I doing here, late at night,
Waiting for your call?

Was it just a  convenience?
Had we been running on rented time?

I was suddenly struck with the idea that I didn’t feel anything. A certain loneliness had washed over me, and I could not talk, walk, speak, or even move of my own free will. Everything was now alarmingly still, and I could do nothing to escape it. Even the thoughts that crossed my mind were so painful to bear that I found myself trying to block them out.

Being in complete detachment from my own body, my old needs and desires seemed foolish and depraved. I did not want to see or have anything to do with the old things that brought me joy, for I could not understand, in this moment, what joy meant.

I found myself completely numb, and with that thought came another, even more surprising: that I had to stay in this unbearable situation. More torturous would have been to try to escape this weird state of mind than to actually experience it.
And I began to wonder: if I were to perish in this very instant, would I suffer — or, in the strange stillness of this numbness, would I even recognize the weight of feeling anything at all?