when sylvia plath said “i need a father, i need a mother, i need some older, wiser being to cry to. i talk to God but the sky is empty”
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when sylvia plath said “i need a father, i need a mother, i need some older, wiser being to cry to. i talk to God but the sky is empty”

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2023 - 4 - one
something in me changes at night. perhaps it knows for certain that all the best adventures happen after bed time. it feels like you opened time like a zipper-- where everything sucks but all is well. all is well. one step and slide: the swollen knee boogie; still I glide over the carpet like its water; the red light of the alarm clock blinks out into the void like a light house-- I crash upon my bed like waves upon rocks-- I hold my pillow up to my ear and I hear african poems, drums of war; made up stories under neon lights laughter, car doors shutting, and crying in the dark. crying sounds different in the dark all alone-- it feels more true. crying feels more real when it's a secret.
© idyllicsam
Good Grades
I thought you were smart And academically, you’re brilliant!
But, you fail the test of life Well, at least, we couldn’t pass the test of life The test of time But hey, at least you have your good grades!
we go to stores that smell like wax crayons and it's really difficult to choose your favourite childhood memory when you are still kids that walk hand in hand, and then there's the song! the song we once made ours, the words we know as well as we know each other, it really sounds like a rom-com now
and i tune in to the tales
and your lips move, but i don't think i am listening to you, right now, i am only hearing the voice that sits like coal in my body and has me burning all over,
that lacquered, smooth voice that's music to my ears, but your voice gets softer and softer with every word and it feels like we are sharing a secret while we are still in a crowd
and i tune in to the tales
i run through my cupboards to bring some order in my day, and there i find nostalgia waiting for me, pictures of you and me, when knowing each other's beloved scoops and giving each other heart shaped cards was second nature
and i tune in to the tales as one does at such a time,
tales that have bitter endings, but memories of mirth.
~shaksi. //tales//

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At the Belarusian Border
trenches and shelters,
picnic tables and trails,
tailbacks at the crossing,
truck drivers covered in sweat
broken supply chains,
unspoken languages,
potholes in the road,
anxiety in the soil
road to Hrodna,
view through the valley,
where I would never be free
to write this
Girls be like "in my demon slaying era" and it's just them realizing they deserve basic human rights