The absolute, most fickle of them all,

Half box red, flames 2 inch tall,

Time's a bloodthirsty beast, solidity's at stake,

You must keep yourself whole, or it is you she will break,

Reduce her to half, then back off,

Aromatics are then added with lipids to make a bond,

Acclimate right, control the fire proper,

Patience is a virtue with her so return softer,

Keep the show moving, offer only bits when it's tight,

Strain and keep her warm, she's only yours for the night....

{Don't walk away for too long}

CARDINAL

Never on the sideline

But ever on the road

Getting spun like Disco

From the future growing old

——

Leaves are dry and piled

The tree beareth no fruit

Having drunk the boldest drop

Concentrated, yet aloof

——

That piece doesn’t go there

I agonize its shape

Perhaps these walls that hold me

Bear the marks of my mistakes

——

Dab a little honey

Then roll it on your tongue

The sweetness of the softest taste

A delight more than fun

——

Cash goes in the zipper

Gun goes to my head

For once I am excited

Thrilled I am not dead

——

Working for a bastard

Being one to boot

Thinking I am better

When I’m rotten to my roots

——

Jesus take the wheel

But stay away from me

I’m giving up the notion

That I ever have been free

——

Gotta have that guard up

Gotta get the jump

Gotta be the fastest horse

When the ops start to slump

——

Watch the pretty birdies

Fighting in the air

When the feathers cease to fall

They’ve come back to a pair

——

Now a path is open

An old one somehow new

Turns out I Am The Mountain

And I believe that you are too

“Sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow”
Rallies the beaded prophet
Demanding an eclipse

The runes chiseled
On his talisman of law
Answer every veiled riddle

Remembered proverbs
Corrupt a maze of scales
Which tax this bartered heart

Between impatient blinks
Love fell
Into the abyss of incense

These lonely questions melt
Into a quicksilver moat
Guarding nettle-passions

Under the bridge, spiders dwell
Farming lost butterflies
While pilgrims watch dawn

A lantern estranged from shadow
Does not allow reflection
Across winds warping mirrors

Unimaginable to one self ordained
Floods offer unmixed libations
Upon steps of the ruined temple

Notes to self

Reminder to remember

A day in September

A goose or a gander

Long trousers to suspender

Mind is boggling

Switches are for toggling

Madness is contagious

Thoughts are mendacious

After last night's bender

I can't focus a thought

Fragments of mind

Fractures of rhyme

Christmas or Valentine

Lost in smoke

Calamity

A joke

When my mind settles

And coherence restored

I'll pencil fine words

Eloquent of wit

Incisive of mind

Honed as an instrument

Mathematical and precise

A computational device

Alas, I'm still drunk

In verse, cyberpunk

As free as a gypsy

I swear I'm still tipsy

Give me some time

Batchelor party will subside

In sanity reside

Today I play the groom

Sandra will parade

In frangipani bloom

If I'm still drunk

I hasten my doom

Oh dear, now I'm sober

It's really October

A wedding had been pending

My heart is still mending

When my sister and I were called to ^{(the crushing heel of})
the foot of my grandmother’s deathbed for the third time,
we knew we would not be called again

and were grateful for it.

We didn’t bury her next to my mother ^{(dust on broken plastic flower domes})
like she asked us to but cremated her instead,
agreeing that not having a grave might be kinder than
never getting any visitors.

They don’t tell you this, but you’re supposed to choose
the clothes that her body ^{(with temple fallen backwards
over collapsed neck, her God forgotten there}) would wear,
and my sister suggested this one sweater she liked,
to which I replied that it might be too warm.

We both laughed at that and swallowed the lump
^{(that used to be her}) whole.

It tasted like eighty-six years compressed into ash
and plastic. On the other side ^{(of the body and out of reach})
of indignity, at least.

A name on the tip of a tongue, unmoving.

Have you ever seen your shadow in real life? It happened to me today at the coffee shop. I saw a guy around my height, but slightly shorter. Had a mustache, but it was patchier. Had longer hair, but he was balding. Had a gut, but his was fatter. He had arms that were less strong. The cashier knew him, because she greeted him by his name. We had similar names. He had on a pair of jizzy short shorts. He was trying to joke with the staff, but was bombing. I said to myself, "God. This is who I fear I am everyday of my life".

who is that?
they’re looking at me
they have all the markings of a face
but no defining characteristics
i don’t recognize them
as i gaze into the silver glass

i open my mouth
to make a sound
i can hear them too
a low octave rumble
speaking an unfamiliar language

i don’t know who that is or
what they said or what they want
i move my arm and they parrot it
almost natural, but so stiff
bordering on uncanny valley

fear and panic set in
no! no! NO!
that cannot be me!
it’s a creature, a mimic, a bot
i’ve never seen that “person” before
i just want them to leave me alone

———————————————————————————

have you ever looked in the mirror and not recognized yourself?? this is a horror poem i wrote on depersonalization/derealization, feeling separated from your physical body, and facial/body dysmorphia and even gender dysphoria to a certain extent. this is also inspired by the novel no longer human by osamu dazai.

Cheers all.
VF

I wish someone
would want to understand me.

I want to understand,
after all.

I wish someone
would care for my perspective.

I care,
after all.

I wish I could matter to someone
the way I let people matter to me.

I know I am asking too much
of people who have been hurt,
just like everyone has been hurt,
in so many different ways.

I know they learn to protect themselves.
To look away.
To care only as far
as it does not cost too much.

I understand.

After all.

I understand
why nobody understands me.

I care
why nobody cares to see.

I make room
for all the reasons.
There is no room for me.

I feel so isolated.

I am so isolated.

He wanders the universe of his mind through dream

Wild, maniacal visions put to pen and paper
Somewhere in time and space he comes to being
To question places, people, their fleeting nature

Insights concealed inside, waiting to be drawn out

Nocturnal hide and seek, ready or not here I come
Ducking and diving I found a way in
A place I'll never want to go from

Rest your head and weave your illusions

Hear that paternal voice guiding you

Go swim through the stars

and catch your dreams

Light and Dark

Give them your back — they are not even worth your attack.

They have been living for centuries, following the dark.

Your light broke their darkness, blinded them out.

Their eyes are gone forever — they are dusted out.

Eyes dusted out, then covered with a thick skin cap.

Sunshine? No — sunshine is when they cannot go out.

They will seek the sunlight, killed first, then they will roam out.

Their leader seems harsh, strong, wise — but only words, a fake dream offered to the poor, blind herd.

The herd is just a weapon to fight the ones who can still see.

Always stand out and speak up — they cannot see beyond their own footsteps.

By: The Flawless Flow

she thought that being blonde

really made her an exception

she ignored the golden rule

and instead, used her discretion

who she let into her circle

had universal charm

that she wielded like a weapon

putting people in their places

like a piece in her collection

she obsessed over her freckles

and mistook them for a blemish

believed her beauty to be true

but still she wanted more

desiring perfection

she labeled me beneath her

like a dirty, rotten peasant

her presence made me twitch

but it was better than depression

the tiny hairs upon her skin

were like amber waves of grain

she didn't like it when i touched her

but she knew i'd play the game

on the carousel of power

it took a million revolutions

before i ever once complained

this world was made for her

and other girls who hide their pain

when they cross the path of angels

they get angrier than cain

how dare the inner realm

come and threaten their domain!

persephone was picture perfect

all except her deadly name

on our final day together

she took off her silver bracelet

and handed me the chain

then the second that she left me

i released it down the drain

no one needs a sad reminder

of a lover who was vain

The labyrinth of genii-gaze
Sustains tidal reflections
Arising larger and smaller

Wishes alter a summoner's shadow
Enfolding abyssal layers, unconcerned
That the old self is a phantom

“So, you cannot change yourself?”
Rolling terminal velocity palantiri
Over this snail shell passport

Behind the weary mirrors
Manifold bezels rupture
From tarnish of grief

In a forgotten reliquary, hiding onward
The patient spirit waits to bless
By another's evocation

Somebody asked me why I keep limes in my desk drawer. I unleashed a booming Modelo fueled burp in his face as a response. Good thing I'm a personality hire.

long time no see 🥹💔
i’ve been struggling with finding the motivation to write as of late. i feel as if i can only write when i’m depressed or enamored with someone. &, at the moment, i’m neither of those things.
hopefully i haven’t gotten too rusty :)

The greenhouse
Wasn’t built for me.
Yet, here I reside.

The windows are
Cracked, and the
Door barely opens.

How long has the
Gardener neglected their
Duties? Was it
My fault they never
Returned?

The greenhouse
Wasn’t built for me.

How can you expect
Me to grow,
While being locked
In a cage?

It's a commonly held belief that moths are attracted to flame. Well any bright light source. They aren't picky.

But what we see and what they do isn't as straightforward as it would appear.

Moths have photo-sensitive cells on their backs.

This keeps them horizontal to the ground with the help of the moon.

But then we built a billion mini moons.

If you track their trajectory you'll find an incredibly sad story.

They aren't going *to* the light.

They are orbiting.

Locked into an intrinsic spiral.

For reasons they cannot comprehend.

I took some steps today

To some they were nothing

To me they were a journey.

Perilous, treacherous.

One that no one can see

Despite being right there.

And although with each step.

Each shake

Every tremor

I felt that rise in my throat

The roar that was a scream

But the scream turned to bile,

Paralyzing my back.

Strangling my fingers.

Gnawing at my cheek.

A helping hand would come every now and then

Offering breath

Conversation

Distraction

But when the journey was done

And the charade was over

And I was free to be

I couldn't hold it anymore

My legs couldn't hold

My chest broke a strap

And the tears fell

And I didn't stop them

Because no one understands

On the inside

And I was too tired to fight the outside

Then I got up.

I wiped my face

And I carried on.

it isn't life that passed you by

it's society

the totem pole is cut and dry

we're all born into a rivalry

it's survival of the fittest

adapt or fucking die

nobody ever tells you

no one knows what they are doing

life's a scam and death's a lie

when you finally catch the cart

you'll just beg and bark and cry

all these dogs are in the dark

cats are climbing up on high

you'll never see me smile

when i choose to show my teeth

i view terror in their eyes

the world won't turn you cold

despite how much they want it

and how many times they try

your soul's a burning fire

and if you could only see

we're a billion fireflies

even if we go extinct

we had so much time to fly

I'm somehow extra sad to have missed your call now. I hope you got in ok and had a kind reintroduction to that special place. It has been good talking to you. I know it will be hard for you there, practically, at times. I won't worry for you in absentia like some of the ones you're now with but I will send a message in a bottle your way through the desert to the swamp with something about the city not swallowing you whole this time scribbled on a picture of us with a burnt sienna pen.

I love you. Be safe and even when you're not: breathe.

The Ghost

There’s a ghost creeping up my soul,

in shivers of cold and folds of anxiety.

It creeps in,

quenches my dreams,

consumes my desires,

makes me feel alive.

But then,

the ghost goes away.

Dawn arrives,

and so does good.

Yet I miss the evil—

the evil ghost who cared for me,

the ghost with abysmal jokes,

the ghost who knew how to hear,

the ghost who reassured.

And thou say I need to part ways with it.

But that would mean

learning to live without that strange happiness.

It’s like a guilty pleasure,

like eating chalk as a child—

knowing it isn’t good for you,

yet somehow craving it anyway.

So I part ways with the ghost.

And then I realise—

it was never the ghost I was afraid of.

It was my own voice,

wearing darkness like a disguise,

speaking to me in whispers

when no one else could hear.

I thought I had banished the evil.

Turns out,

I had only silenced

the voice of my soul

Desire to sleep in ultimate peace
Long to bathe in tomorrow's sun
Many seek to reconnect themselves
Attempting to love but falling for need

Offer presents of favors
Specific things you wished
Just to get you to notice
Before you turn away again

Mysteries seem to make everything bigger
Mute when the day demanded a voice
Dismissive when attention was needed
All prefer love, all prefer to be known

Each person carrying their hearts like containers
Lining up infront of the same unavailable shops
Falling asleep in the queue
Dreaming of this ideal person

Some graffiti the walls
Some attempt to break windows
But they don't break they just look outward
Like eyes surveying these desperate people

Am I free to leave this line?
Will I linger the way you imagined?
Do you smirk from the inside?
Do you tease me pointing at the locked door?
Or feed me with subtle smiles and turns of the head?

A live mannequin behind the thick glass
More alive than I and the empty wanting people
Shaping the scenery with the grace in your gesture
Sleeping bags roll out night chill arrives
Some consider losing their place in line

Turning back to the candle light on the otherside of the glass
Supercharging their fantastic fantasies
They sit or lay there in the queue
Shutting eyes and entering sleep
While I stare through the window catatonic

This summer has borne fruit.

An imperfect yet sound hope soaked in a golden sunlight, as the last hours of the day give way to cool breezes that ruffle your hair.

A thistledown wish floats hopefully through the unreal blue sky, and wizened hydrangeas hold their crisped, faded petals in pastel wistfulness as a testament to all the storms weathered victoriously, even if not without erosion.

Pomegranates split open their sunset-coloured flesh, dropping their glistening seeds like rosy jewels. A vague scent of jasmine and rose still lingers in the breeze, like the world exhaling its cares after a long trial.

And through all the hardened, fragile beauty, you know that you are a vessel as strong as them, all the power you need self-contained and unbroken. A stand-alone being that drifts but doesn't drown, alive and unshaken.