I feel fractured.
Fractured into a million pieces.
Like the mirror that was hit
Or the bowl that was dropped.
Now I kneel on the floor,
Staring at the pieces.
How do I fix it?
Can I fix it with gold?
Like the ancient art of kintsugi?
But what if I can’t find the gold?
What if I continue to kneel
In the fractured pieces of my soul.
The pieces that continue to cut deep.
Because I am fractured,
Fractured into a million pieces.

instant chemistry,
instant spark.
new person, new topics, new feelings
yet somehow, it feels as if we’ve already met.
a familiarity in you that I see in me, too.
common interests, humour, and laughs,
the only two things that separate us
are gender and heart.

a newfound bond,
a connection I already see
shining strong and true.
you see me, and I see you
our real selves, transparent and clear,
as if we read each other fluently.

it hasn’t been long since actually knowing you,
yet it feels like I’ve known you my whole life.

our friendship still new, still beaming, hopefully true
but with misread signals and miscommunication,
each falling for someone,
but I thought you liked me.
you didn’t know I liked you.

feeling like an idiot
hurt and annoyed.
after feeling it all, I realised
my feelings were real, but untrue.

I like you a lot,
but not how I thought I did.
I thought I had a romantic crush on you,
but I have a crush on you as a person,
as a friend.

and I’m so glad we’ve met now
and get to live this life together,
finally having someone
who sees our real selves,
finally seeing something deeper
than the reflection in a mirror.

She lingers where the silence sleeps,
In breathless hums and eyelid weeps—
A ghost in velvet funeral threads,
Dancing in the static of my head.

I dream her drowned in mirrors cracked,
Smiling with the eyes I never get back.
She speaks in tongue, in fevered sighs,
Each word a wound beneath disguise.

My fingers twitch with phantom touch,
Starved for her... it’s far too much.
She bleeds in shapes across my skin,
And still I beg to let her in.

She once was light—but light decayed,
Now she's the price I always pay.
A veiled eclipse, a lover’s curse,
She’s the better half of every worse.

No pulse—just rhythm, raw and slow,
A symphony of undertow.
I kissed the rot behind her grin,
And built a shrine beneath her sin.

She isn't mine.
She never was.
But I was hers,
And still... because—

The scars she drew are vines, divine.
I drink the venom, call it wine.
She is the ache I can’t outlive.
She took what love refused to give.

She isn't real.
But she's the only thing I feel.

Against my will, I’ve acquired this skill.
I’ve mastered the art of fault-picking,
I excel at depreciating.

Still, urgently seeking something diminishing,
Secretly yearning -
To combat flaws I’m dissecting.

For some sort of force to pull me?
Up to standards I don’t fulfil,
Down from aching self-worth, still.

And just like my dad,
I mask my sad.

Mutually we intellectualise our wounds,
Seemingly, we’re bound.

oh yes, but would you like to see me smile?

i stand above the bathroom sink,
staring in the mirror
under the flickering light over my head.
the dark circles, familiar—
a pair of scissors, one hand twitching,
strands of hair lying in the wash basin.
i chopped my hair in half,
shredded, shaggy layers framing my face.
a smile of freedom, one of acceptance,
the glistening madness in the eyes unsaid.

i stir what once was my skin,
now mere blood—tying myself to this life with an oath,
my ode to swear, to protect and to stay
true to my kin.
cruelty vibing in chaos-kissed violence.
how many times do i shed this skin
until it's not me who remains in the mirror,
and i finally forget my own name?

babies grow old into something brutal—
monsters that walk this place,
sing lullabies to their own preachers.
i've slipped and fallen and i've been left behind,
but the board i'd been playing upon
it turned upside down.
here, the world relies on my head.
i've got the ceiling under my feet,
the skies in my chest.
every ragged breath speaks a tune—
a horror comedy, ransacked, askew.

anew, this curse—
laughing while running through a field,
landmines under my feet.
drapery of melancholy, slips forsaken, hugs me tight.
the curtain of reality—i tear it half.
hands reaching out as claws,
drawing scars on the delusions.
there's beauty in forgiving,
madness in illusion.

once again, again, and again once more.
sixty-one days crossed out on the calendar
that once held way too many promises.
the ladder of failure and of persistence
carries bodies drowning in trying and abstinence.

there isn't any exit in the end.
the broken headphones,
cacophonies of blown-out candles
and half-smushed chocolate cake—
a brief history, periodical, falling,
hell-bent trying to be treacherous,
reaching out to pull the noise from music,
leaving raw voices, hearing them bruise.
archive this, paint the mess, click a picture,
write a note, believe the misplaced faith.
chase that feeling,
run half a mile toward the grim.

oh, but do you see the lights
when you close your eyes?
shattering silence.
the dance of a rugged doll—
i turned her key thrice, and once more.
better to be safe than sorry
amid the growing legions of undeterred regions.
do you hold her or stay near?

tsk, tsk, tsk—sounds of your begging,
faking every emotion, every gathering.
these masks of clay, carved to stone.
pity, pity, pity.
do you even remember who you were before?

empathy is a sin disguised as understanding.
sympathy for the weaklings.
you're playing monogamy,
devour the strength of the flies and the snickers.
tattoo yourself with flames—
let them draw in the scorching heat,
watch them be triggered.

sinners walk this place,
absent, indigenous—
they'll perish soon either way.

proclaim the promises in disguise
of gods for whom you pray.
metamorph into frankensteins,
surrender fascism—
believers of the wrong truths.
mercy shall be provided to you.

i might be the villain.

Stand before your mirror.
Look yourself in the eye.
Don’t blink.
Don’t flinch.

Ask the question
you fear the most.

If you dare to listen,
truth won’t lie.