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i toss and i turn with the pillow staying put,
welcoming a new wave of anxiety with each movement
2:18 on the clock and the fan adds more momentum to my unattainable thoughts
buried in the need to see, and learn the unknown
yet, i lay on the surface as a parched rock in the middle of my favorite beach,
reeking of the current simplicities of life
though its surely a blessing in disguise which i might recall five years from now
standing by, holding onto my innocence, waiting to believe in a miracle or see a comet pass by in the dark night sky
Mar 1, 2025
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there is something figuratively beautiful about the things we know and don’t know, the sublime and mundane
and when you visit the beach, do you ever think about if the animals who live in the embrace of the depths remember the beauty of the ocean?
where the salt envelops every single one of us,
accepting us as kin
letting her wind tousle our raw, visceral edges
and pepper them with her sea-foamed kisses
which tell me that it’s okay to pretend
and okay to tell the ocean all of myself
the ocean reaches out to me, hands cloaked in the sharp coolness of water and something else- something i don’t understand
as I poke around in a tide pool, like a vendor at a bustling market, observing the wares that the ocean has to offer
and i turn around and ask her, do the barnacles see themselves? do anemones understand their own beauty, fragile and ephemeral?
i don’t think they do.
but the ocean doesn’t have any words for me, instead shutting my mouth with a shhhh
as her sandy dress rustles down the shore, laced with white foam and gossamer trails of ripples
and wordlessly, tells me to look
and i do.
until the sun hurriedly retreats from the wispy radiance of the moon, enrobed in puffy clouds
and it's just the three of us.
the moon tugs at the ocean’s hand, dancing to their own secret rhythm,
letting me see them in their love.
personally, i think it’s beautiful \\ and i wish i had something like it
and the ocean laughs. nothing jeering or ridiculing, simply an acknowledgement that i understand.
everything around me falls,
like petals cast off from a chrysanthemum.
and then, we were wordless
like the ocean had never spoken in the first place.
i want to descend into the depths of the ocean one day,
to be hugged once more and never again.
not because i am tired of being alive,
but frankly within me exists too much zeal to live.
uncontrollable surges of wow i am alive in flesh, blood through my veins, and thoughts in my head
become more addictive than any form of fentanyl, cocaine, heroin
and better than any gateway into a better life
or a better existence, transcending normality
and the moment it’s just me in my head, without the viscous energy of being alive
suddenly drains me like a leaking bucket,
decrepit and dry.
i want to burn like a torch, setting my world alight into embers,
into flames,
into an inferno.
Sunrise:: being alight || with a halo of only thoughts and dreams || and the divinity of something new
May 2, 2025
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you know,
all i like to write about is love.
writing is easier when it’s about your own personal experiences of grief, of pain
but love is the beautiful dove of the two
released at a funeral, released at a wedding.
,
because the definition is different for everybody.
—
the trees rustle again tonight, and the wind gently taps on the windowpane, begging again to be let in
and my thoughts race farther and faster in the night than a pure-bred, hot-blooded racehorse, bucking wild for the first time
my mind buzzes, stricken like a gong, reverberating in the quietness of tonight
as i drag myself closer to you,
you reach out for me, an unspoken, gentle and devout prayer, asking for me in the unspeakable words conveyed in a whisper through actions
–
i promised you a fantastical world of your own, where you are safe, through my own creation.
i have created for you in the heart of my own somewhere for me to love you,
fully and infinitely with all of myself.
if this is not where you are safe, then there is nothing else.
–
word by word and sentence by sentence
i create dreams i would never tell anybody
not even under the skies of a cloudless night.
when i sleep, i tuck my hopes and sadness under my pillow
and hope a fairy will kidnap it and place in that spot
something i should need more.
but night after night, my dreams just macerate in the container of my heart.
soon, i will drink them like an elixir of truth
and what i am afraid of will come
May 2, 2025
I buried- in silence -in the back yard -a thing in the night -deer trodding behind the tree line airplane light rolling down the cheek of the dome- it had to be done alone no matter how many times you asked what was growing here I couldn’t speak its name- and you couldn’t hold the reigns of a certainty that is not yours to keep -here is my mind, the living, the executor, the backdoor frightened child staring off wandering for the holder -here is the order of the sphinx, the cataloged diagnosis of the ordinary wheel -here is the lackadaisical assistances that you ordered: “bury the hatchet that dug the hole. take the sword of your desires and throw it at the heap. there is a lump forming that must be seared. the stitches to be unraveled are trying to leach into the skin from which they are formed. you must open the earth or be dissolved yourself”
Feb 25, 2025
Top Recs from @macar0ni2
it's quite rare for me to feel confident in my art and confident in posting it online, but i do a lot of this abstract stuff ;)
if u wanna see more head over to my art account on ig: r0nis__c0rner
Jan 18, 2025
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no one talks about the unannounced death of a version of you when you move countries. sometimes i can’t control the grief i have for the 8 year old me and the wish to have stayed with her a little longer. having to move is surely a blessing as it opens space for new experiences and people to enter your life. however, when you're a child, everything moves fast and there's little time to reflect because of all the naivety and constant learning. you don't understand the consequences of not spending enough time with your grandmother or how convenient it was to make or even keep friends.
it's one thing to move before you gain consciousness. it's another thing to move when you do gain consciousness, but don't exactly know what's going on.
maybe this isn't about moving. maybe this is about growing up or maybe it's about both.
Jan 16, 2025
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the first month of the new year
ringing bells with tunes of hidden memories, filling me up with tears
tear through the seven layered skin and sew me a bag of brand new fears
make the people of hatred come together to save this sphere
be kinder to the gentle deers and enlighten the insincere
january, send letters of strength to persevere that last till the end of this calender year
Jan 20, 2025