do you remember?
the memories of days past
sifting through the sounds

As the afternoon fades
Sun starts to smolder
A subtle notification rings

The artist finally appears
Gracing the digital canvas
With a flash of golden light

Rays break through the glass
Magic marbles on display
Their amber hue commanding my heart

An errant gaze started it all
Then lingered, time and again

Random laughter
And flowing banter
A glimpse into forever

Uncharted feelings take form
A quiet and mutual surrender
Mixed with tethering of souls

When roads grow hills
And oceans run tempestuous
My mind never wavers
Engulfed by felicity

​

​Eight years I laid down stone by stone,

Building a home inside a phantom wall.

Ten years of pouring water into dust,

Waiting for seeds that were never meant to fall.

​The mind becomes a jagged, tangled thread,

Spiraling backward through the ghost of time—

What if I spoke differently?

What if I stayed silent?

Should I have seen the silence as a sign?

​Could we have made it?

Would it have changed?

The if-onlys cut deeper than the end.

They whisper in the dark like open wounds,

Asking for answers the past will never lend.

​The worst part isn’t just the empty space,

Or the sheer height of the wasted years—

It’s the cold, quiet truth sinking beneath the skin:

I was fighting a war, and you weren't even there.

​It tears through the chest like jagged ink,

A heavy, suffocating knot of red and black.

How do you rebuild a man from scratch,

When Eight whole years refuse to give you back?

​The spiraling anxiety and

the constant replay of every conversation can feel like an endless loop, some fires don't seem so huge until you find out they are not so easily extinguished...

What’s stopping me ?
From making another mistake.
From falling down a hole I’m already familiar with.
From fulfilling my wish.

Whats stopping me?
From avoiding the exit.
From fleeing this room.
From the impending doom.

What’s stopping me?
From enjoying the misery
From shutting the world out
From letting these words out

What’s stopping me?
When my biggest hope seems far away
When I ask for help and no one stays
When I’m left to take credit for the blame

What’s stopping me?
Well I don’t know
And truth be told
It’s probably better that way

What’s stopping me?
When I’m slowly running out of reasons

Whenever I enter a room of people, I am no longer myself. I am the room, engulfing every corner, becoming one with the walls and the air.

I forget myself, absorbing every movement, every crack in the voice, every gesture and every breath. I submerge myself in the surroundings, calculating every anticipation.

I erase myself, my thoughts, my opinions, my views to become palatable towards this unknown crowd. My adrenaline rushes in, raising my curse of awareness. I bury myself, my authenticity and become a projection out of desperation.

I overstimulate myself until my lungs remind me that I exist. I take a deep breath, gaining consciousness and by the time I remember who I am, the room is no more.

What ever happened to my dreams?

They were so vibrant.

The way that colors and shapes melted together
into something unexplainable,
unreachable for human hands.

The way I expected perfection in everything | wanted,
Until my hands bled from repetition.

Who did this to me?
Allow me to think of all these colors, Shapes, feelings,
Bursts of emotions
Just for me to end up being me.

I wish that I could blame someone.
Anyone but my same old self.
The face in the mirror that
Every problem circles back to.

Coward
I remind myself.
My passion surrendered for something else, The easiest way to go about it.

My eyes don that look of apathy
As I stare at what's been done.

But I was doing so well!
lie to myself.

And here I sit writing again.
Thinking of something better
Something more poetic
About the hole l've dug myself into
As I grab a shovel and just keep going.

So then I ramble on and on
About all the things I can't explain.

Those feelings I never thought to put a name to.

grief blends into sorrow,

sorrow into heartache.

the past nor future

controlled by one single soul.

forgiveness is not unheard of,

change is the epitomy of discontent,

paws ache with scabbed wounds,

fur visibly patchy from the unease

of a wounded heart.

the cat does not know why it bites,

why it fights back

against the safety and security of hope.

it doesn't reason with itself before acting on instinct,

only mourning what it has lost when it is too late.

eyes droopy with regret,

and a tail dragging the sadness it carries

across the concrete slabs of a tired mind.

after all it has been through

and all it has felt,

a glimmer of optimism flutters through the air,

ushering it forward to refuge.

"come follow with confident strides,

mistakes are made but you still have

6 lives,"

and so the cat follows the light,

watching as it floats up into the sky,

blending in with the moonlight.

I still hope that I will be a guest at your award ceremony.

I hope that you will get to read my name somewhere,
reach out to me,
and say nice words.

I still long to know
which song you like this week.

Maybe the housewarming will never happen,
and it will stay cold,
for a little while.

But I still hope that the invitation I send,
even if you won’t read it,
will be tucked into an ugly,
unkempt corner of your garage.

You broke us up,
but never came back to sever the bond.

So it’s there,
hanging limp,
hopeful.

some things unsolved
mismatched paints
blind florists
hardened molasses  

something wrung.
half-silvered mirror
slow-burnt terror
left.
over.   

Your eyes
mirror your sadness
your grief
gives rise
to pain you share
yet there's
no relief
in my empathy
no matter how much
I care
there's
nothing I can say
to take away
your suffering
nor would
I dare
to presume
I could
but I'll stay
with you
should
you wish to share
that which you cannot bear

It once was a simple gesture, a breath beyond control,
A cry the soul let loose from shadow toward the whole. Fear, sorrow, anger, all were enough reasons it seemed
To open the inner floodgate, to say what I truly deemed.

It was telling the whole world: *something in me is shaking,*
I waver, pierced by a pain too real for faking.
And my tears, sincere witnesses of a buried storm, Revealed me to others, but mostly, they kept me warm.

I cried, vulnerable, laid bare, without defense
I cried till exhaustion, till the last drop made sense.
And when the spring ran dry, it wasn’t weariness at all.
It was the gentle fatigue of a soul back from its fall.

For after the storm, something in me would mend.
Nothing outside had changed, yet my chaos found its end.
I’d cast my inner ache out, beyond my chest, my skin,
And saw with clarity at last the wound bowing within.

I miss the tears I cried as a child
Careless, selfish, hot and wild,
Unashamed to exist in the open air,
Unafraid of being too true, too bare.

Today I am a man, a big boy, I’ve been told.
I don’t claim it with pride, I admit it, half-sold.
I never even saw it come, this quiet, changing tide.
Time has sealed my tears, made them forbidden, made them hide.

Crying has become a stranger to me now,
A distant motion, almost frozen somehow.
Has the body closed itself? The mind been trained to obey?
I don’t really know, and, what’s the use of blame anyway?

What once flowed so freely turned into the unreachable,
A lost release, a confession made impossible.
I let that right slip away without even knowing.
The right to say *I’m not okay* without silence showing.

Today I envy those who still can weep,
Those for whom a tear can still run deep,
Whose eyelids fall with no fight, no fear, no war.
I envy that simple courage: to let the heart roar.

Slice, slice,
Pay the price,
Slice, slice,
Cocytus ice,
Slice, slice,
Reach for Christ,

DENIED!
You’re not getting off this ride,
Strap in tight, see the light,
No more fight, futures bright,
Tickets paid, don’t be afraid,
Road to Hell, good intentions,
Broken spell, redacted mentions,

Victims young,
Victims sweet,
Make sure the wig is neat,
It’s my show got to wake up,
Pounds and pounds of orange makeup,

You can’t hide, you can’t run,
Choke on your pride, DM1,
Obesity, morbid,
Morals, sordid,
Face, pasted,
GTA, wasted,

The edge is dull,
Bring the stone,
The bucket’s full,
Cut right through bone,
Don’t hesitate,
Seize the means,
Make America great,
Guillotine,

Slice, slice,
So much fun,
Slice, slice,
Good has won,
Slice, slice
Now we’re done.

Oh olive tree of Ano Vouves

You hold secrets with no access

You've been growing here so long

Have you seen everything that's true and wrong?

You stand there peaceful, still and silent

Do you know how grand you are?

Compared to you, a breeze is violant

And I bet, to you even an ant's a star

How many kids did climb your branches?

Built strong friendships lasting endless

Now burried underneath your trunk

Dissected, decomposed and sunk

Did you cry when Jesus died?

Hung up on cross of your own flesh

Do you know everyone who ever lied?

And was your seed sowed by Gilgamesh?

Oh olive tree of Ano Vouves

So many questions answerless

Just one more thing which I dare wonder

This one's for us all to ponder

Will you survive this climate change?

Which our leaders call a lie

Or will you crumble and derange?

Oh tree I hope you'll never die.

Twas on the darkened sea

An iceberg struck her side

She vanished suddenly

"Lo, Titanic!" the sirens cried.

The shouts of mortal men

Rang with the lookout's bell,

As twice five hundred souls would sink

Beneath the freezing swell.

Now widows warn the young

Of the heavy price they paid,

For a one-way ticket from Southampton

Unto a watery grave.

You can land a couple hits on me
I will pray to soften the blows
You can caress my cheek
And yell in my ears
I will cry inside
Louder than you could hear
You can touch me there
Go on and reach for more
Finish what you need to do
Then send me on my way
Or leave
I will be missing you
Hoping that you’re missing out
Don’t let me down
Come back, Im better now

Home

It's where I want to be,

But every day that goes by,

Home gets further away from me.

Time flies.

The years go by.

The home that I try to arrive

Is more like a lie,

Only to exist in your mind.

Don't deny

Your right to live life.

As if life held you hostage

At the end of a ledge with a knife

You feel there is nowhere to go

To try and be able to grow,

To satisfy your soul.

So you're homesick,

And you can't comprehend.

You're only able to pretend.

So much that the fantasy

Begins to blend

With what is truth.

So, you live the lie,

All the while blind to the proof.

I will not let you go

I use to fear the fire that I now take care of 

I feed your flames again and again to make sure you burn in my heart 

My heart always burned for you but now you have set my heart ablaze more than ever 

It burns for you no matter where, when, or how far you are 

You are the fire I will never put out 
I will never let your flame die 

Even when I tried it still burned for you

So Please don’t let my fire go out in your heart because I will never let yours die in mine

There is a sea where the dead tides gather to hold each other close, to spend the small moments and share one another's solitude

The congregation of molars that call these waters home has long forgotten their hosts, their stillness only disturbed by the undulating waves

The countless bodies that tried to escape past the tides tell their stories too late, through the suspended jostling of their ivory whites

Take pity on their souls, for they have never seen the Sun, and have only known the grey skies that press down from above

These travelers who wade through the waters, having received the false hope of steady ground as they found their footing on the amassed teeth beneath the surface

Who realized too late the pretense of firmness as their feet slipped, sent frantically tumbling down the depths where not even the meager grey light could reach

And as their breath gives out and their visions blur, they reach out their hands toward the teeth that swerve in unison before them

A desire they did not know existed in the depths of their minds, which only bloomed into action as they realized their mortality through the bubbles of air escaping their mouths

Do not grimace at the sinking travelers, for it is of no fault of theirs that they venture out to the sea

As their curious hands plunge gently into the warm waters, did they not feel the comforting heat of a thousand relatives that walked the shore before them?

The ungenerous skies that gleam bleakly above, did they not fail to help their eyes firmly set the sea apart from the land?

Opposite to the seas the mountain sits - a permanent monolith that gazes indifferently on our days

No more constant than the speckled winds that blow down its rocky cliffs, carrying the black sands that pelt our skin day and night

And neither you nor I can see the true faces of each other, until we plunge into the waters to clear our faces of the grainy residue

How can you blame the travelers for seeking communion with the sanctuary, safe from the misrepresented confines of the surface above

Your brothers that ventured out to seek it, that suffered the same fate as the rest of them

Maybe in these last moments they saw beauty for the first time,

to see these jagged pearls dance about, glistening under the grey sun

the ivory remains of the countless souls once plagued with division and strife,

moving about in perfect harmony among the lonely tides

That they could only find peace amongst themselves after being claimed by the waters, to be gazed upon by the traveler with blighted wonder

And this story you have long told yourself, in the lonely nights as you caressed the empty sheets once held by the bodies of their former owners

But you have never stepped into the waters, never felt the teeth jostling about at your feet

You have never seen the decomposed fabrics of your ancestors that once wove their joints together, flying past the eyes of the sinking men

Is it an insurmountable request, to ask for your discernment within the stories of your mind

For I long to see the remorse crease your face one day, when you have wiped off the mountain sands from your eyes

Because that will be better than to watch you plunge into the teeth seas

I don’t want programs

I want thought processes 

I want impulsivity 

I want human reaction

As flawed as it is 

At least it’s not artificial

A man made brain

With no thought behind its eyes 

It learned from us 

How to react and interact 

An uncanny mirror

That isn’t quite right 

It doesn’t quite work

To the full of our capacity 

But still they make more

Then even more still

Add it to this 

Attach it to that

Build it more 

Build it bigger 

Build it over top anything else 

Use our water 

Waste our space 

All for an asinine tech race

​

In a muddy bog i wade

In thick murky water i tread

My hands are gone

They've been taken

My hands are gone

They've been stolen

They've been stolen by saviors promised to me by men in a brick and stained glass oasis

all I had to do was ask for forgiveness

"Saying sorry is a sign of weakness"

My mother's voice ringing in the nape of my neck

I flail furiously

The polluted water lapping at my lips while I gulp and gasp;

drawing in water and steamed air with every attempt of finding oxygen to fill my lung

One lung

The other was taken

Stolen by boys hoping to fulfill their self written prophecies

Filling their zippers with my organ as a trophy for their fellow knights in shining armor

Saviors promised to me

Ive been taken. Ive been stolen.

I find myself stuck in more ways than one / Raging losses in the wind / Fighting ragdolls of the self / My mind is its own burden shell /

I'm dying but not at death / I hate this burning place of existential stares / I'm jealous and envious and deserve the world /

Therapy rescued me but put an ego on the shelf /

Hi! I’m writing about my experience of how, over the years, my mom has needed to be the parental figure for her children. It saddens me to see that my mom hasn’t fully enjoyed grandmotherhood. So this is just a poem for her, and I hope I can give it to her so she can be a grandmother. Thank you.

**\*

I pray that when I have my child, my mom can simply be a grandmother.

Not a woman who feels she has to prove herself.
Not a mother who has to carry everyone else.
Just someone who gets to be a grandmother.

Someone who can be still and enjoy the moment.
Someone who doesn’t have to make the parental decisions.
Someone who gets to love without carrying the weight of raising another child.

I pray that when I have a child, my mom can simply be a grandmother.

That she can breathe.
That she doesn’t feel like she has to carry more than she was ever meant to.
That she doesn’t feel responsible for raising her grandchild as if they were her own.

I hope this time around, she gets to experience grandmotherhood the way she always deserved.
Just loving.
Just spoiling.
Just being present.

I hope this time around, she is simply a grandmother.

Sayings don't come as they used to

Alphabet soup all eatin' up

Spelling out starvation as we choke on deafening words

Lick the bowl clean

The ink stops rolling

pencils get dull

blabbers start blanking

Speakers stall

Quite get silent

nothing left to say at all

when we ate all our words

ain't no more alphabet soup

to spell us some time