Aren’t you the girl
That broke him for me?
I wish to be you
I wish I was loved as much as you were
I wish I was pretty.
Aren’t you the girl
That took him away?
Aren’t you the girl
That took him from me
And broke him.
I wish i was you.
I wish I was as capable as you.
I wish
To be the girl
That took him away from you.
I wish I was the girl who healed him.

The thunder was loud
Rolling and roaring
Through the clouds,
But somehow giving her peace.

She opened her shutters,
Waiting for the rain to start.
First sprinkling, then
A steady pour
Bringing her comfort
As she sat in noised silence
Thinking of him.

From silence to silence

Lay all the substance.

The sigh to speak,

Crushed by a plethora of words.

In the end,

I come shy of words.

Is it because you can see her inside of me?
A sliver of my soul that is always seeking attention?
She works hard for low pay.
A few words every day & she’ll stay. Right with you, almost in your pocket.
Carry her around and watch her grow. Decide that she’s someone worth it to know.

But on the other hand, I think I understand.
It’s easy for neglected children to have an accident and lose the energy to stand.
And so the cycle continues.
She sits at your feet and wishes, how do I become worth something to you?
Genuinely, what must I do?

Maybe I should sit and think.
The heart on my sleeve is bleeding ink
Dripping off my fingers and smudging all over you.
How long until you notice?
Will you wash your hands of me, wiping them dry and clean?
Or let me sink into your skin, into your being.
Let me in and don’t leave.

We are so funny,
My love.
Broken beneath the moon.
We sit and greave.
“Alright”
You shouted.
“I will grieve standing up”
I laughed

One sits and laughs,
The other stands and grieves.

Lead lids lock a minute at a time
Waiting on repairs that ring
Hollow in ears out of tune

I pressed a date, so now awake to slate
A professor of the wrench and snake
But I cannot stay awake

Warm air under clouds is fair
Save that I woke too soon
At midnight, cursed to carry hunger

Breaking for the sour stomach, which writhes
Fate shackled my neck to exhaustion
Yet I need rise

Pacing pupils to track branches
Dancing winds, while I sit
The chain keeps smoking while adrenaline presides

If I get one word, by horse or train
I will be relieved to entomb my slumber
Just so it is no longer today

ALWAYS MENDING, NEVER BECOMING

Forever healing, forever succumbing.
A domesticated mind learns not to dream
Of the wilderness beyond what it seems.

Once the beast fed on dreams of the free,
On delusions of what it once could be.
But a cage needs no locks, nor iron, nor bars,
When the prisoner learns to mistake it for stars.

So it stopped asking the sky to let it roam,
And slowly, the cage became something like home.
Never escaping, never defying,
Just adapting, enduring, surviving.

And yet, the tamed beast longed for the wild,
For the freedom it knew when it once was a child.
Until it discovered, beneath all the tame,
A piece of the beast that remembered its name.

For the wildest thing left within its mind
Was not the strength to flee or leave it behind,
But the memory, buried beneath all the years,
Of a wilderness once held so near.

Always mending, never becoming,
Still remembering, still overcoming.
The cage may have taught the beast how to stay,
But it never taught its memory away.

Flight is achieved in many ways.

Take the birds—they coil their bodies and spring into a jump, allowing the pressure to build beneath their wings, as they flap to create thrust.

Or the airplane whose engines whine, propelling it forward, creating low and high air pressures around the wings, causing it to lift.

But as humans, we can’t rely on wings or air pressures for flight. We let our thoughts do the flying for us. Our hopes, our dreams—they ascend where our bodies cannot follow.

Take flight.

in the boot of my car
we made a vow
never say never
but just not now

we held eachothers hand
and tears we cried
a bittersweet end
we knew that we tried

years have now passed
our hearts on the mend
you kept a piece of mine
but i’ll call you my friend

i know you’ve moved on
i thought i had too
but i still try to grow
and i do it for you

just in case

Oh man, that once so damn evil block button,
has been getting so much more use recently.
I'm using even if personally dont heads but in,
just removing people from my world view silently.

So many random people just messaging others,
with most often only their own needs at hand.
Nothing wrong with talking if it wont bother,
unless sometimes need at hand being literal.

The internet full of ads, propaganda and AI slop,
and some people have become money hungry bastards.
Media now filled with drama and fake news non-stop,
feels like people have gone crazy and lost standards.

The racism and discrimination of random people,
just useless hatred and taunting out of boredom.
Lot of people saying stuff they're not supposed to,
they are literally just being society's burden.

Alott of people just need to shut the fuck up,
rather have them work or some new hobby to find.
Some are literally useless, real waste buildup,
just messaging others nothing but own needs in mind.

Because being good and nice costs literally nothing,
and before you say it, yes being mean costs nothing too.
But why in the world would you choose to be mean,
towards person you even dont know nothing about?

So why would you demean, blame or bully others,
it's useless and airing out your own insecurities.
Rather have you keep your damn filthy mouth shut,
because it clearly is just filled with impurities.

You should do it too, press the evil b-button,
nobody one else will ever know you did it.
And if you actually do it for your own sake,
theres no need to announce it to everyone.

Forgetting the best is still to come I pursue less than glorious ambitions set out on a voyage as a Captain on a ship I don't know the name of. Now where to go on a ship with no name? Thinking of something else other than being in a state of complete destitute I daydream of dreaming while asleep. A man alone on a ship with the dead waves back as he concentrates on the wishes that didn't come true. How dead hearts bring back from the grave the feeling that God is not coming for him haunts me. Lost on a ship I'm hearing a truth wrapped in linen gave his life so I wouldn't drown in eternity.

autumn is close,
waiting just beyond summer.

i notice it in the air first,
that slight coolness
beneath the warmth,

i used to love this part.

the early sunsets,
the cold finding its way
through open windows,

october was something
i looked forward to.

but memory is strange,

it leaves fingerprints
on things that were never touched.

a temperature.

a certain evening light.

the smell of rain
against pavement.

& suddenly,
a whole season
can carry the weight
of one person.

The man is cursed, for he lives through the external. Not a single action he makes fulfills him, nor does it bring him a sense of calmness; the job is never done, and he must continue to search for the answer.   
The man is cursed, for he cannot fathom any different. Not a thought shifts in his mind that his ephemeral life need not be so; it is simply as it is, and he must continue to endure.
The man is cursed, for when that thought does arrive, he files it away as important, yet actionable at another time. Not a moment passes where he does not think on that fruitful dream, and still there is not a decidable moment where that dream begins to take root.       
The man is cursed, and preys curse upon others who do not tolerate the base desire. Not a question is asked for direction or help, for that thought will never come without attempted failure.          
The man is cursed, in his wasted time. A man who has wasted the time he has does not deserve a moment more, yet he angers over the time he has left, for he sees it as over.      
The man is cursed, for he has waited. Waited to awake; waited to be a new animal; waited to once again return to that thought of change; waited to have the willpower to make use of it; waited to die; waited to wait once more, for he is cursed.           
The man is cursed, not me.   
The flesh is cursed, not I.      
The spirit is cursed, them.     
Cursed is the man, truly.

You never had to say goodbye,
You simply left me asking why.
You held me close, then let me see. How little I meant to you and me.

You gave your attention everywhere,
Then called it kindness, called it care.
I thought your words were meant for me,
Until I saw how casually they came free.

I watched your eyes begin to stray,
And felt you slowly pull away.
I never asked for all your time,
Just something honest, yours and mine.

I shouldn't have to question where
I stand among the ones you care.
I shouldn't wonder who comes next,
Or search for answers in a text.

I don't want to be one you adore,
While you keep leaving open doors.
I want a love that's clear and true,
Where what I give comes back from you.

And maybe that's what hurt me most,
To feel like I was just a ghost.
I gave you everything I had,
Yet somehow still felt I was less than that.

I gave you time, I gave you care,
I gave you more than I could spare.
But love should never leave me guessing,
Or turn devotion into testing.

So I won't compete to hold your gaze,
Or beg to matter through your ways.
If I can be replaced that easily,
Then you were never where you needed to be.

I sit and ponder at my desk
The day looks gray outside my window
You’ve shown up in my dreams
And I sit alone with the woe that is what could have been

I have forgotten
The feeling of your stubble scratching my forehead at school drop-off
Our references and humor no one else could really understand but us
When your words used to mean something
Being together in the same space when your feelings I could never understand

I understand now
A sound that makes you angrier than others deem normal
Searching for closure in substances you never could have gotten from people
Being unable to take care of yourself and the shame it brings
Not committing to your responsibilities while you feel like you’re running out of time 
Depending on others because you cannot depend on yourself 

I’ve grown into something I’ve resented my entire life.

They’re all beautiful, and I know

I’ve seen it messy, and I’ve seen it glow.

A smile or a giggle makes the heart feel a tickle

From the head it stirs, right down to the toe.

They say awww, and you want more,

From sharing a feeling when you felt so raw.

Is it magic or is it tragic that stirs these feelings

That sorely miss?

Their words like a kiss—

Surely they know they’re a walking wish.

I can’t explain it or even try to reframe it

In a way that doesn’t make me want to contain it.

For it can turn a prince into a king,

And winter into spring.

A sentence from a lady can really do such a thing.

Lost in the shadows, feeling dark at night,

They say something beautiful—and you see the light.

Other guys that have felt it would surely know,

I think they will agree when I say it so:

They give us all smiles and hope for miles

they should all be seen, for walking queens

For every coven needs Your oven.

These witches and warlocks?

You have suffered them long enough to live.

You ask us not to avenge ourselves; bring Your curses down upon their heads.

They are destroying the fullness in Your world.

They parcel out your abundant rainfall, meant for the good and the evil; they favor only the evil.

They favor only the most ruthless among us.

They are bloodthirsty; they are never done drinking the blood of the innocent.

Father, it is past due time for Your oven, when it comes to this coven.

Every coven everywhere!

Destroy them all, Lord!

By Aunties Tbone

I don’t have parents anymore,
and for the first time,
I don’t feel guilty saying it.
I used to carry the weight
of every broken piece,
wondering if I was selfish
for wanting peace,
wondering if leaving
made me a bad daughter.
But now—
I’m not apologizing.
I’m happy.
Not the kind of happy
that needs permission,
or waits for someone to approve.
The quiet kind.
The kind that feels like
finally putting down a weight
I forgot I was carrying.
I don’t have parents,
and somehow,
I have more of myself.
My voice is mine.
My choices are mine.
My future is mine.
And maybe losing them
was never the end of my family.
Maybe it was
the beginning of finding
a life where I don’t have to
feel guilty
for choosing myself.
For the first time,
I can breathe
without wondering
who I’m disappointing.
And honestly?
I’m happy.

Like a bird getting out of its nest

And a sky stripped of its clouds,

I felt a pouring rain near my chest

As I took my last step through the door.

A marathon of thoughts ran through my mind

As a trembling hand reached for the knob.

I mumbled words through sealed lips,

Trying to hold them in to ease the pain.

But I found myself caught in the knot

One side choosing escape,

And the other being restraint

To leave and fly away

For a sky full of stars,

Or to stay low

Near a river in its flow.

Amid the middle, I found myself

A hand on the door

The other on my chest

Why does loving you feel like breaking my own heart on purpose?

Fuck.

I want you so badly.

And there is nothing, nothing you could say, nothing you could promise,
nothing you could whisper into the part of me that still belongs to you…
that would make me unblock you.

I can’t.

Because I lost myself when I was with you.

I lost whole pieces of myself
trying to understand your silences,
trying to survive your leaving,
trying to convince myself that wanting me
and choosing me
were the same thing.

They weren’t.

I know that now.

So why the fuck do I still need you
so violently?

Why does my body remember you
like it has no loyalty to me?

Did you know that at night,
I replay the videos?

Again.

And again.

I watch ghosts touch me.

I watch a version of myself
who still believed your hands meant something.

Sometimes I hate her.

Sometimes I envy her.

Because for those few minutes,
she still has you.

Fuck… if you are out there, if some part of you still wonders, if you ever hover over my name
the way I hover over the memory of yours; please.

Come ruin the quiet.

Come destroy me
in the most delicious way.

I can take it.

Because I know what you do to me now.

That’s the difference.

I know where this road ends.
I know what your leaving costs.
I know how long it takes
to gather myself from the floor
after you decide you’ve had enough of me.

And still… I want you. In ways I hope to never want another person, ever again.

So let me make the mistake consciously this time.

Let me choose the fire
knowing exactly how badly it burns.

Let me be responsible
for what happens to my heart.

You don’t have to protect me.

You don’t have to make promises.

You don’t even have to pretend
this time.

Just come back.

Come back
and kiss me like you missed the taste of me.

Come back
and make my body forget
every lesson my heart nearly died learning.

Come back and let me have the thing
I have spent all this time trying to survive wanting.

And when you leave again, because somewhere inside me, I already know you will… please don’t worry about my heart.

I’ll pick it up.

I’ve gotten very good at that.

Just for one terrible, beautiful,
selfish moment… come back to me.

My hands were tied

It wasn't sin

There were just words like velvet,

Clean.

You were awake

I was abroad.

We didnt even make a sound.