seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from Singapore
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seen from TĆ¼rkiye
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from TĆ¼rkiye
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Self deprecating
Review timeline
Lock in dates
Delusional affect
Too good for that
Too filthy for that
Damned mosquito bites
Only thing worth scratching
At least
Those fuckers
Draw blood
Assholes
My digital footprint
Tongue wagging
In
LOL
Asshole
Too pretty
To be
This
Desperate
Even when
Itās half
The fun
-E
04/28/2026
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His smile was like an ornamental knifeĀ presented in a painted box, like warm, yet glaring sunlight,Ā like icicles melting, like cardboard ripping apart to be recycled like a stubborn hurricane with a tantrum and I was standing right in the eye of it,Ā like burning soup on the winter solstice, likeĀ a thorny rose a hive full of bees and honey an overflowing river drowning the grass until it couldnātĀ be anything else but green. Like the screech of a microphone, like the pachinko machines in Tokyo,Ā like metal against whetstone, a window shattering, a bone snapping backĀ into place in an antiseptic room, like a blinding eclipse,Ā uneven chair legs, like a wolf prowling the shadows, like the burnĀ of alcohol on an open wound, striking a match against sandpaper, the thunk of an arrow finding its mark, a cat hissing at his own reflection, like lemon wedges shoved into my cheeks like velvet rubbed the wrong way like a thousand paper cuts and not enough bandaids, like the Lochness monster who shouldnāt even exist, like a streak of paint, like being socked in the gut five times, enough to make me nauseous like knocking back cough medicine, like the light-headed sensation of getting the flu shot and cradling the bruise three days later.
āĀ bittersweet (h.a.l.)Ā | based on Sweet Like a CrowĀ by Michael Ondaajte
the hunt
The afternoon is only barely melting into evening when we findĀ the corpse on the side of the road. A deer, yes? Yes, deer -- cracked open like a pomegranate from belly to arched neck,Ā ribcage yawning wide. I stretch the vowels of your name untilĀ I feel my own jaw pop. How lovely the body is when it pushesĀ itself too far, how beautiful to feel the consequence. I have oftenĀ yearned for consequence, and a boundary within which to feel it,Ā be it your open questing arms or the uneasy threat of a car head- lightās yellow pool. The blood on the body is not vibrant unlessĀ it is illuminated. The deer is murky-dark except for where the light catches black syrup and shames it red, and I know I am not this kindĀ of animal because I feel safe in the glow, where I am seen by you.Ā Is there another animal youād rather be? (Dear, yes? Yes, dear --) I would give you either half of this wishbone, help you suck the marrow from the shank. Crack into this evening with me, take aĀ leg before the maggots come; fresh kill leads very quickly to rotĀ and not all rot gives you wine. Sometimes all you get is the dead and then you have to decide which part to eat, tossing dirt overĀ whatever is left behind. I have found that the predators are the onesĀ who know how to hold themselves still. Will you prove me wrong?Ā You tuck hair behind your ear and I see just where to put my teeth,Ā if I can bear to bare them, tonguing over an incisor until it stings. Trust tastes like copper, like rust, and I imagine my carās body hovering over the deerās like a wolf with its engine humming. Itās that sound that gives me pause. Rumble of engine, rumble of purr. There is nothing that I would not be for you. I would follow you, nice and quiet, until the flash of violence and slick hot spill. Wouldnāt you like that, to be quiet? Would you prefer I be nice?
My farther is always angry with me
'cause I leave my window open
All the time
He says it is too cold or hot outside
But still
I leave them open
Ā“cause I am hoping
That one day
Peter Pan will rescue me
From reality
And he takes me to Neverland
Reason why I keep my window open
~LondonBlossom
i used to shine,
i used to be gold,
now i find,
my soul has gone cold;
bu the fire in my eyes,
it never did die;
it keeps me warm,
it ignites my storm.
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Iām bad at poems but this is how Iām feeling so š¤·š»āāļø
Paranoia
Insecurity
These two things have become too familiar to me.
My perspective is shot
Doesnāt matter where I am,
How I feel,
Who Iām with
My thoughts are intrusive to the point of abusive.
I donāt know who I am and I canāt silence these two close āfriendsā
poetry teeters on the edge of insanity
you keep me safe you keep me sane you hear my cries you heal my pain before you i was lost and nothing made sense before you i was broken but thatās all past tense because now i am home now iāve been found i know what true love is now that you are around
(cc, 2018)
