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"datePublished": "2026-01-28T10:08:03.088853",

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Where I can scream how I love you❞

— Mitski, I want you

Untitled

I want you and only you And I don't know why I want you Or how I want you so much But I want you And only youI can't stop wanting you Until I tear open your chest And put my heart to rest with yours

❝In a hell of a world

I am transparent, clearly

I'll cover for you, dear

Give me a little hand to save you❞

— Taemin, Heaven

De rien

(Ritual of the living, extended version — second edition)

The cemetery bells toll, a low hum in my chest. Your smoke invades my lips—bitter, endless. I feel your need crawl beneath my skin, an old, unholy thing, a desperate prayer clawing to the heavens.

The abode of the damned never shone so bright, as when you destroyed it in quiet delight.

Let me paint you with my blood. Look at me—fall for me, beloved. Too selfish to take your hand, too desperate to worship you, the only god I’ve ever known.

How do the forgotten, the judged, kneel before you, their pride undone? Fools, you and them alike. Once, I swore I didn’t need your light. If the world is damned too, then crown me your doom.

Petal by petal, I tear them apart. "They love me, they love me not," cries my heart. Love does not bloom from a flower's art— to feel whole, I pour my essence into you, a piece of me forever yours.

Your beauty is heaven’s cruel shade of blue, your smile too sweet, your laughter a lie. The gates of our misery, painted in charcoal, close and open like a chorus of despair. And yet, still, I want your light.

My body aches for you as the earth for the moon, yearning to bask in your distant glow. The streets are alive, but I am not— left in the dark, crossing the red line we once drew.

Your hands—everywhere. I begged for this. I can’t refuse you tearing my heart out. Return to me, my love. Return to me, though the claw marks branding my throat. Return to me, though the second circle burns around us in twisting flames. I run my fingers through your ghost—an outline of who you were.

Your voice—soft, distant—lingers, as I’ve been tracing the echoes of how it felt. Should I trust the dark waters rising, or your holy face, cursed with secrets? Neither is kind, neither forgives.

One day, I’ll hear you sing my name, but don’t tell them how I’ve forgiven you for burning me, for torturing me, for loving me. Because I loved you too, and destroyed you. I devoured you—shameless and selfish.

Yes, I’ve gone mad. Yes, I will die, again and again and again.

Prey upon me. Consume me.

I’m your muse—come, ruin me. Paint me in bite marks and wishes that fell before they flew Before I even speak, steal my breath, my being, my every fragile piece and claim me in silence.

The ashes of time bear your skin. The forgotten’s residence grows darker still.

I run, gasp, fall— headfirst into a waltz with the wind. A midnight kingdom shimmers before me, where angels weave violence into light.

The cold showers me with its kisses. I pray to the gods I’ve created—burn me out. Let me fall. Let me gasp for a soul that was never truly mine.

It hurts—it hurts—it hurts. For the first time, I feel fear. For the last time, I feel regret. Another agony ends; another play begins.

Tell them the truth if you must. Tell them I would do it all again.

I die at the cathedral’s steps, breathing, return to me. My angel, long gone.

❝You're an angel, I'm a dog

Or you're a dog and I'm your man❞

— Mistki, I'm Your Man

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Sewn around your collar the riches of the world The other white end flowing effortlessly on the floor Any unworthlessness vanishes under pretty trinkets

Let me kiss your ankle As you drive a stake through my heart, my beloved And even if I'm not yours I worship your eyes

Laying there, gutted out And I was wondering how could you not feel my heart ridding itself of blood

❝You want in but you just can't win

So you hang in the lights❞

— Art Deco, Lana Del Rey

A. R. T.

A stands for Animal, Audience, Addiction—

I am an animal—restless, starving, chasing the next masterpiece like prey. I tear myself apart just to find something worth keeping, something raw, something real. I sink my teeth into every moment, trying to taste the meaning in it, trying to understand why the hunger never stops.

I throw my soul to the audience, watching them devour what I barely understand myself. I feed them pieces of me, hold out my hands— "Here, take this. Love this. Love me."But what if they don’t? What if they do? What if they only love the pieces I already hate? What if they only love the version of me that I have outgrown? What if I am nothing but an echo, bouncing between approval and emptiness?

I watch them feast on my confessions, watch them nod and say, "Yes, this is good, this is beautiful,"without ever asking, "Does it hurt?"

They see the masterpiece. They do not see the blood underneath. They see the ink. They do not see the nights I tore myself open to spill it.

I am addicted to this. To the unraveling, the rebuilding, to the quiet horror of seeing my own words stare back at me, Daring me to claim them.

I tell myself I am in control. I tell myself I could stop if I wanted to. But could I? Would I?

Is it still art if I am not suffering for it? Is it still me if I am not breaking for it?

I don't know anymore. I don't know if I ever did.

R stands for Rush, Reform, Re-evaluation—

The rush of it all— of hands that shake as they hold a pen, of a mind that never quiets, of running toward the thing that might destroy me just to see if I can survive it.

I have spent a lifetime reforming myself, breaking and bending, reshaping and rewording, making myself more palatable, more poetic, softer around the edges, easier to consume.

And yet— no matter how much I change, I still feel like I am too much. Too intense, too emotional, too desperate to be understood. Too much for them. Too much for me.

So I re-evaluate everything. Every choice. Every love. Every moment I said, "This is who I am," only to wake up the next day and realize I have no idea who that one was.

I grieve before the loss even arrives. I grieve the love I hold, as if loving too deeply is a kind of self-destruction. I grieve the art I craft, as if each piece is a farewell letter, as if I am made only to create and then let go.

I grieve the one I used to be, the one who thought art would set them free. I grieve the one I am now, the one who still believes it.

And I grieve for the one I will become, who might one day look back at this and wonder— "Was it worth it?"

T stands for Trial, Theme, Tradition—

The trial of putting myself on display, of saying, “Here, look at this,look at me, love me, love this,”only to realize that being seendoes not always mean being known.

The theme of longing, of grasping at something that slips through my fingers, of holding onto ghosts, onto shadows, onto the echo of something that was never real to begin with.

The tradition of suffering for beauty, of believing pain makes me worthy, of thinking that if I bleed enough, if I tear myself apart enough, if I become something tragic enough, maybe someone will say, "This. This is real. This is worth something."

And yet—

I know you. I love you. And the stars that make up your body burn bright, burn soft, burn away, but never in the shape I imagined.

You are the moon in phases, always changing, always distant, always something I reach for but never quite touch.

Oh, my sweet one, you are such a hypocrite. You worship beauty and resent the cost. You chase meaning and run from the truth. You cradle your art like a dying thing, mourning what’s still alive.

You stand at the edge of yourself, one foot in creation, one foot in destruction, too afraid to jump, too afraid to stay still.

So tell me, artist— is it art if no one sees it? Is it love if no one returns it? Is it grief if the thing you mourn is still breathing?

Or is this just another story, another addiction, another trial, another theme, another tradition— one that binds you tight, one that keeps you here, one that you will never break free from?

Because here’s the truth: You will keep writing. You will keep loving. You will keep grieving. You will keep breaking yourself openjust to see if something beautiful grows from the wreckage.

And maybe—just maybe— that’s enough.

But maybe it isn’t. Maybe it never will be.

Maybe you will spend a lifetime chasing something that cannot be caught. Maybe you will spend forever trying to translate a feeling that will never quite fit into words. Maybe you will always be half in love with your sadness, half in love with the art that sadness creates, half in love with the idea that suffering means something, even when it doesn’t.

And what then?

What happens when you realize that art does not save you? That words will not hold you at night? That poetry does not kiss you back? That all of this, everything you have ever built, is nothing more than a desperate attemptto make the world understand something you don’t even understand yourself?

What then?

Do you stop? Do you walk away? Do you finally let go?

Of course not.

You pick up the pen. You start again.

Because you don’t know how to do anything else. Because this is all you have ever known. Because this is who you are.And maybe—just maybe— that’s the most tragic and beautiful thing of all.

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Beg me to save you To turn your blood into ash To cure you, cleanse you Watching, waiting Call my name a thousand times Stutter, plead, cry …You know I can't respond

My fingers curl around the wire To let your hair run free The moon was full and bloody And i felt it drip down my skin

Ode to Persephone

(Calling for you)

It’s a cold winter night, my struggling flower, when you arrive from the heavens above. It’s a warm spring morning, my teardrop, when I lose you again.

Oh my sorrow, oh ancestors, oh muse with your lyre, bring her back to me, or sing her song until I die. Can’t keep to myself, that much is true. I drown in the sea of mirrors that display your image so shamelessly, my young breeze.

Oh my sorrow, oh ancestors, oh Hades, worthy king, give her back to me, and I swear I won’t look. I map the stars of your body, my sunrise, just as I have before. Guide me home, and hold me tight, show me where I belong.

Oh my sorrow, oh ancestors, oh Persephone, divine lady, release her from your grasp, oh I beg you. Let her light shine once more in the darkness of my world. I will search every corner of the earth, intrude the realm of the gods, until I find you again. And I don’t remember my name, but you do, my melody.

Oh my sorrow, oh ancestors, oh Apollo, hear my plea. Let her memory linger in the echoes of your strings, let her spirit dance in the melodies you weave. My wings feel heavy like never before, yet soar, I must, up, where you await, my light. You can only redeem me.

Oh my sorrow, oh ancestors, oh Daedalus, ego’s father, Show me the truth among the lines, guide me through the labyrinth of my own mind. And in your eyes, I find myself lost in the passage of time. So, my angel, let's defy fate, and rewrite our story. We will still perish.

Oh my sorrow, oh ancestors, oh Khnoros, with the wise quill, let her come upon me once again. And under her guidance, I will die.

It's a cold spring morning, my dear, when I wake up from the damned. It's a warm winter night, my love, when I know you'll never come back. As the flowers bloom and the birds sing, my heart cries, Knowing it will never meet yours again, my one.

L’ appel du vide (second version)

I too wish to reside among the stars Can’t you feel the burn? They all think too much... What is a step off the cliff?

How dare you speak of love when you dishonour her name?

Is this God's punishment for me? I am no better than the devil a monster courting insanity or that’s what they tell me

But how could you live and not have a story to tell?

[Vampire] + [Actor]

Oh Father of mine, creator of all You know better than I the chains upon your throne.

You who watches over us and sends us to war save my soul from being eaten by man.

—

All of you excel

Pathetic and whiny, you can’t stop crying Why, are you sad? Who gave you the right?

You speak like serpents Shredding lives, like a razor on paper They just love to gabble, clearing through the gossip and the rumble.

The ultimate flex is taking your vehicle out for a spin and exploring picturesque locations. But have you been noticing strange engine sounds whenever you are driving? Don't be ignorant because the weird sounds can spell trouble for you. Jump into this article to discover details about the common types of can engine noises and how you can fix them.

Identifying Unusual Engine Noises

If you lend your ears to your car's engine, you will hear it making different types of noises. But every engine noise isn't unusual. Some of the noises are normal in a running car. That's why you need to remain extra cautious about absurd noises coming out of your car's engine suddenly.

Common Types of Car Engine Noises

Check out the common type of car engine noises:

1.      Knocking or Pinging

When you're behind the wheel, pay attention to the distinct metallic knock or ping sound that may catch your ear. The car engine sounds could indicate detonation knock, a common engine issue where the fuel and air mixture in one or more cylinders detonate simultaneously in multiple places. While this could result from using the wrong octane rating fuel, it could also be caused by various factors such as incorrect timing, a lean air/fuel ratio, or damage to the knock sensor.

2.      Rattling

You might also get to hear a rattling engine noise from your vehicle. This rattling sound usually disappears when you speed up. A misaligned or loose lug nut inside a hub cap might be causing this type of noise. Maybe you loosened the nut or replaced the wheel but failed to tighten it properly.

3.      Whining or Squealing

Whether it's an engine noise or coming out of a human being, whining or squealing can never indicate anything good. A high-pitched squeal from under the hood indicates the serpentine belt is loose or worn. This belt is responsible for operating crucial engine components such as the water pump and alternator.

4.      Tapping or Clicking

Pay attention to any sounds that resemble tapping, ticking, or clicking, especially when driving your car. These could be indicators of low oil levels. To confirm, it's best to simply check the oil.

Diagnostic Steps for Engine Noises

You might not be able to hear certain engine noises with your ear. Even if you do, you might not be an expert in figuring out whether it's a normal sound or something to worry about. That's why it's crucial for you to take your vehicle for regular checkups at the service center. A mechanics stethoscope will help in diagnosing unusual engine performance sounds.

Solutions for Common Car Engine Noises

Once you are aware of the common issues that affect your car, finding and implementing the right solutions would be the first thing to do. Here we have discussed some of the crucial fixes:

1.      Knocking or Pinging

The engine knocking sounds can occur due to a large variety of factors. Fixing this sound involves identifying the exact cause behind it. Sometimes, you can eliminate the noise by simply using the right type of gasoline in your car's engine.

2.      Rattling

If you want to get rid of rattling car engine sounds, you will have to identify the part causing it. Usually, tightening a loose or misaligned lug nut will help you get rid of this case. In some cases, you might replace the lug nut to get rid of the rattling noise.

3.      Whining or Squealing

Squealing car engine sounds while turning indicate an issue with the steering system and should be addressed promptly. On the other hand, a squeal when pressing the brake pedal suggests that it's time to get new brake pads.

4.      Tapping or Clicking

If the levels are indeed low, it's important to add more oil to prevent potential engine damage in the short term. However, keep in mind that this is just a temporary solution.

Don't ignore the tapping vehicle motor sounds if you check the engine oil and find that the levels are normal. It could be a sign of a more serious problem, such as an issue with the valvetrain. In this case, immediate action should be taken to prevent further damage.

Preventive Maintenance Tips

Some preventive maintenance tips for keeping engine sounds at bay include:

Use oil additives to cover the moving parts of your car with a smooth layer to reduce friction and noise.

The lubricating molecules present in synthetic engine oil will help reduce sounds.

Underbody coating can also eliminate engine noises to a limited extent.

When to Seek Professional Help

While DIY fixes can help get rid of certain types of engine sounds, you will need professional help for others. At times, unusual engine sounds can indicate serious issues with your vehicle's engine. In that case, seeking professional help is a necessity to get the issue fixed instantly and prevent long-term damage.

Conclusion

The engine noises serve as musical notes, indicating the condition of your vehicle. It is important to be attuned to these sounds, understand what they mean, and quickly address them. This ensures the longevity of your car, saving you from unexpected breakdowns and costly repairs. So listen keenly and let the sweet symphony of a well-maintained engine accompany you on your journeys.

Image Sources:

https://autoapp.sg/

https://uk.trotec.com/