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Pride Month, 2025
lilac tree, dead upon the rock ice ground
yet purple petal still
gazing upon the scene
a fireplace of cerulean illumination
flickers with movement and hope.
emerald eyes of yours, dear sister
shine softly, don't cry, cry, cry
let the golden-red ichor spill forth
onto the endless black scythe,
everything is gone
MOON'S SONNET
I remember eons, eternities, everyone
I know speech of stars aglow with wonder
and a young rock whispering back longingly.
I always wished the others would listen
so I take up the task myself, keeping soft secrets silent.
You need some help, I know. We all need help.
We all get our heads smashed in by the planets
like an overlapping roundhouse in the time you
blink.
That's all I do. Blink ever so
slowly
empty to full, night by night, a lunar pace
watching the beauty marble
turn to rock
Ice Sphere
Oh! Europa
Europa Europa
prettiest of the kings
many daughters, but still
and scar covered water-ice
weathers father's deathbelt
hiding secrets under skin.
Let me sense your life,
I hope you're not
still, Europa?
Reflections
Mirrors
Again and again I see
Something not right
Again and again I see
Mirrors
Reflections
A Song, A Whisper, A Dream
is so much more than it seems
the reality of making reality
from oft distant mem'ries
removes me from this place
the trials of tribulations
repeating Song again
shaping, flowing, perfecting
until I reach the end.
but nothing can be perfect
no?
missed notes
faltering voices
undescribable
is that not the joy of creation?
are the flaws of reality
not the things that make it real?
stilted Song, with passion
wandering Whispers, with heart
doubting Dreams, aflame.
I know
there's the same kind of craving in you
as in me,
your lips seeking craving the caffeine,
addicted.
i sense the desperation in your kisses
like it's the one place where you can let yourself
be
yourself.
yourself who is fucking desperate
fucking so slutty for me
fucking insensed insane by the hot pink candy
so crystalline and cracktured and i am fucking captured raptured by you
Foot of the Stairs
What is a dream if not a memory of a thing that didn't happen?
did it happen? did she not sing softly into my ears as we sailed?
does it hurt to believe in kindness?
who's to say that the moon didn't weep down her tears, creating you
- a child of sorrow and pain and loneliness, who gives her all?
when I was a child, I got chased by stray dogs through impossible plastic
tunnels, full of greens and blues and terror.
I first knew of my true self by seeing a girl in white dress and nature.
my chinese erasers spoke softly to me, and we traveled to far off places together.
there's magic in blending the possible with the impossible.
Finale
The ending is the prettiest.
That last little lookback, the little sunset that shines a moment into your brain.
The moment ends. It's a memory now, illuminated by that haunted acceptance.
That it's over. all we can grasp now is the faint shadow. the leaving, the goodbying,
the "what if this is the last time I'll see this person? this creature? this leaf?"
It has a way of sticking with you. how brilliant, how beautiful, how tragic, how sorrowful?
Sorrows upon sorrows stay within, all those missed sentences and smiles make the ones you received,
ever more valuable.
Differently Abled
you're just "differently abled"
sure. air cheese-grates my exposed flesh
dog barks bring me to the floor with ease
wool sweaters hurt worse than hot stoves
aching voids are filled with only books
shower drops pulverise me
social interactions range from splinters to surgical staples
interests consume me, even when I need to
stop
crowds kill, thousands of little daggers
interviews aphyxiate, wrapping around my throat
a snake made out of ties, lies, and business clothes
I meltdown, shutdown, scream, cry, and ask why
I'm disabled
I can't find my keys
I lost my pencils
what did you say?
my parents say I need to clean my room
I can't
organization is impossible
as for paying attention...
what was I just saying?
forever unable to do anything (thanks executive dysfunction)
forever awake at night, thoughts just spinning and spinning
all over the page
how is this a good thing?
I just want to stop
recognizing people and their attitudes from their footsteps alone
feeling unloved and unlovable, wanting to end it
trying to end it
trying to fight off all the endless intrusive thoughts, till you inevitably
slip and cut yourself
disassociate like it's a hobby, make everything numb
constantly on alert
that way, nothing will hurt
curl up like a cat at night
go to the psych ward
pretend you're alright
just try to make it out
alive?
how can I be alive when I'm always on alert
people tell me relax
I can't
did I say something wrong?
are they angry at me?
panic attacks after panic attacks
making sure the door is locked at night
thrice over
not feeling safe around others
always messing things up.
somethings wrong.
I'm scared
constantly
my head hurts
that's normal, right?
going from hot to cold
I can't stand, the floor
tilts below me
I stumble to the couch
and hold on like a child on a rollercoaster
everythings spinning like in that little top ride
with the pinks and blues that makes
my head hurt too much.
don't fucking call me
just differently abled
I can't even write
my handwriting is chicken scratch
everyone tells me that
I try to write but they can't understand that
they give me handwriting books
send me to 'special' classes
they wish they could fix me
how they fixed my vision with glasses
I feel outcast, broken, alone
even at home, I still hide in trees.
technology kinda fixes it
silicon savior, my words spill out
at last, a waterfall of
words
Oh, the waves
I swam through
the waves alone
washing my body
with seawater
so sacred
the sunset over
the darkened salty sea
reminds mortality (mine)
of riptides and shark skin.
I paddle shoreward
on the beach in cool sand
I dig a hole and am buried
I fit inside it