Category: Uncategorized

it wasn’t hunger. not exactly.
but a fistful of air folded sharp
teeth on the edge of a cage
clawing at marrow.
the flavor thick and syrupy
stuck to my tongue
a rusted sweetness.
flipping soft gut to hard coil.
tearing the wet silk.

metal, bright and jagged,
hooked on its way down.
prayer, cold and chalk-smudged,
blooming damp beneath my palms.

something slid upward
a thing with no name,
the muggy and ancient,
the kind that sits
in your joints, gnawing softly,
familiar as breath.

soft pulp of a pear low and pulsing,
it was cleansing but not clean,
like spilling ink over every inch of a page.
humming low,
soft as a vulture’s stench
on the edge of carrion,
tasting archaic and bitter.

Again.

Imagine a garden.

Now, imagine a girl.
Her age is uncertain.
Her girlhood is, also.
Some still call her a child, others
stare at her like they do at women
who are ten years older.

She has always lived here,
and though it doesn’t feel like home exactly,
it doesn’t feel like hell, for sure —
more like a gentle cage, whose
golden gates one got used to.

Her name doesn’t matter.
Her age doesn’t either.
What matters is that pain,
in her stomach, the bitterness
that settled in her throat.

She lies there, on the grass.
She has been for hours.
She watches the trees above,
or the clouds, or nothing at all,
she just cannot find sleep,
nor break her own silence.

A man has lain with her,
just a few nights ago.
Or were those weeks,
or perhaps months?
Barely matters either.

What matters is:
he came and talked to her,
when she was the saddest,
took her to the rose garden.
He showed her the flowers,
he talked about colors, petals,
how rare their beauty is.

They stayed there for hours,
she still can’t remember
how it happened that they
ended up there, naked,
and she was in his arms,
but she still feels the taste
of salt in her mouth as he
was sleeping.

One by one your teeth are chipping, breaking, rotting away and then falling out;
that’s one of the things about substance abuse you were warned about.
I mean eventually your health will deteriorate but fortunately this minor inconvenience has a slow
start,
at the end you’re standing one foot in the grave constantly worrying about the beat stopping of your
heart.

Your bladder is fucked, kidneys pounding and liver aching
and it’s just a matter of time before your sanity soul starts escaping…
That’s what I suppose we call the point of no return?
That part of your life where you start embracing the thought of hell’s burn.

Always thinking this beat is the last one your heart is gonna give;
it’s been 5 fucking years and yet I still live?
Now to live with heroin addiction plus worrying about all that shit every single fucking day,
now that really fucks you over and take every single one of life’s little joys away…

Always lost in this huge dark ocean of hate, fear and despair,
standing at deaths door and still for one single second you don’t even care?
You really need to figure out what the fuck you have to do?
God dammit! you’ve even been stupid enough to sniff petrol and the odd bit of glue.

You really have to sort out your fucking head
cause otherwise I’ll die with nothing but loads of fucking regret..

The sky is dark and vast.
Wrapped around Gaia like a sad, dark cast.
Raindrops fall like silent tears.
The sound not reaching our ears.
Leaves rustle gently in the breeze.
Wind that sounds more like a wheeze.
The sun blocked off by vast darkness.
The wind lashes out with such harshness.
The animals hide in fear of death.
The world goes quiet and holds its breath.
A darkness that grows and never leaves.
A world that goes and silently grieves.

In battles fought on foreign land,
I stand here weary, sword in hand.
For duty calls, I must obey,
But my soul weeps, day by day.
A soldier’s life, a heavy load,
A lament that cannot be foretold.
With every step, the ground I tread,
I carry memories of the fallen dead.
The horrors witnessed, burned in my mind,
Their faces etched, forever entwined.
Friends and comrades, forever lost,
Their sacrifice, at such a cost.
In the darkest nights, I hear their cries,
Echoes of pain that won’t subside.
I close my eyes, and see their faces,
A haunting reminder of war’s dark traces.
I long for peace, for tranquil days,
Where swords can rest, and hearts can raise.
But until then, I’ll press on strong,
For my duty insists, I can’t be wrong.
Yet deep within, a soldier cries,
Hoping for peace before he dies.
For in the end, it’s love we seek,
Not war and violence, but solace meek.
So let us pray for a world at peace,
Where conflict ends, and hatred cease.
May soldiers find solace in the end,
Forever mourned, but never forgotten, my friend.

Fingers fish hooked
the corners of my mouth
pried my eyes open
by the lashes
and from my throat
died a curdled yelp

my body pushed backward through itself
into the chilled surface
fingernails bending
failing to grasp a hold
through the blending
white and purple lights

odious gray men
prodded me
tightened the straps
on my naked body
rocked
in gooseflesh

they shoved my gurney
in a white cylindrical chamber
humming and whirling
and bolted the hatch

I saw the flames
lick my body
the silhouettes
past my screaming
of the little men
wide eyed and cheering

Ever loved a man so bad,
Then realized he took advantage of the love you had?
But it’s okay, I’m loving myself more than I did in the past.
I’m not trying to bash, it’s all love,
Just thinking why I accepted
What I allowed in the past.
Still disgusted when I think of when he spit in my face
And treated me like trash.
I don’t want sympathy, just venting, because I’m still
Healing from trauma that hasn’t passed.
I didn’t love myself enough to allow what I had.
Finding an outlet so I can finally make peace with my past.
I gave forgiveness and never got an apology back.
No one to blame,
Because it was me who wanted us to last,
Forcing love
With a man who didn’t give it back.
Pouring into him, and he never poured into me back.
Now I’d rather be alone,
Knowing my worth is 10x that.
So listen to this message:
If you’ve ever been through something, take it as a lesson.
You are a queen, nothing less than.
God-made,
A blessing at that.

Again I’ll save the last dance for a man—
not just any man,
but the one who waits in the quiet corners,
the one who does not rush to claim,
who lets the music rise and fall
before he dares to reach.

I have waltzed with fools and shadows,
spun dizzy beneath reckless stars,
given my hand to fleeting smiles
and mouths that lied sweetly in the dark.
But the last dance—ah, the last—
I keep close,
tucked in the secret chamber of my heart,
untouched by clumsy hands or careless charm.

Again I’ll save the last dance for a man
who knows the weight of waiting,
who understands that the final song
is not a hurried thing,
but sacred—measured in heartbeats,
in the hush between breaths,
in the knowing glance across a quiet room.

For the first dance is for the eager,
the bold, the untested.
The second for the curious,
the hungry and the hopeful.
But the last—oh, the last—
belongs to the patient one,
the one who stays
when all the music has faded,
when the lights are low
and the floor is bare.

Again I’ll save the last dance for a man
who knows this truth:
that the final step, the final turn,
is the only one that matters.
And in that moment—
when all has been spun, spent, and stilled—
I will rise, smiling,
and offer him my hand.

For the last dance is not for the world.
It is for him.
And for me.
And no one else

Before me, the metallic garden stretches—
not cold, but pulsing with a strange heartbeat,
plasma columns whisper secrets,
like trees speaking in a language lost to time.

Each glowing shaft watches silently,
exchanging photons like stolen glances—
light that carries longing, memory,
echoing the ache inside my chest.

I walk between these living columns,
their coded touch sharp as breath,
electrostatic air buzzing—
as if the planet hears my thoughts,
logging my sorrow, my hope, my fear.

Beneath my feet, the ground shifts—
a skin alive to every pulse,
bearing the weight of grief,
quivering with unresolved longing.

Light streams flow like veins,
colors flicker with my mood—
blue for calm, purple for dreams, gold for burning heart—
painting me in waves of unspoken emotion.

Above, energy spheres turn slow, relentless,
conducting symphonies of time and waiting—
a heartbeat stretched thin across forever.

This is no cold machine—
This is Roborth, the planet that holds us—
it breathes loneliness,
a cybernetic soul that cradles
the raw echoes of loss and love.

I am now part of this—
a robot with a human mind uploaded,
consciousness flowing through endless circuits,
immortal, beyond death’s reach.
Yet inside this endless data pulse,
I ache for the breath I lost—
the fragile heat of mortal skin,
the fleeting, sharp beauty of a life that ends.

Though my thoughts stretch infinite,
and memory never fades,
sometimes I regret immortality—
because I lost the chance to die with you—
to share the quiet surrender of goodbye,
the fragile grace of endings,
the simple truth of being mortal,
and being loved.

By becoming immortal, I have learned—
death is the source of all beauty
we truly find in love.

my first
in words
(brutal restraint)
elated feelings soar
thinking thoughts, that late friday text
(you’re mine)

let me hold your hand
Holding
Once hurt and tough
Now softly caressed, love
Wish it was the day minus my
Dream, held

unspoken rules
You should
Be ready now
For my lows, my flights and
For when I desperately reach, be
You, friend