when someone hurts you intentionally that is sin, it is sin, sin, sin, slithering its way beneath your skin, raising a scar, be it a reminder or a trophy for all to see that says yes yes yes i won this fight and this is my reward and even when it’s a helping wound beneath the blade of a scalpel or point of a needle and thread the hurt is all the same and your scars will raise and bubble with blood that pops and spills and hurts all over again and your skin will get thicker and thicker and thicker until you can’t make it hurt anymore

occasionally you bleed too much, too much, too much, and the evil can’t worm its way through the mess and into your flesh so all it leaves is emptiness a divot where your skin should be but it isn’t, isn’t, isn’t, and that’s quite a thought because oh where did it go where did it go your skin is a canyon where there used to be a river of blood now dried

sometimes it’s an accident and that’s ok because a small cut isn’t big enough to give way for the devil but oh son do small cuts bleed and bleed and bleed, they scab over, they shed and peel and itch but then they turn white and disappear and thank god they do because it’s embarassing to have a mistake etched into your skin isn’t it

Flames rip through us Dreams ground into dust Enough ghosts roaming To swallow the earth whole If only they breathed The same air as the living The sky hangs dark And thick with tragedy Hope glints like distant stars You squint to see any of it You reach your arm out to fit just one Into the frame of two fingers At just the right angle You lean into the illusion That it’s still within reach You tell me you’re crazy I tell you I know You see it in me too So you pull me close To kiss the missing parts in you You wander through your heavy house The walls are screaming You can tell by the way the paint is peeling Bursting with memory and feeling Years spent off balance Has sent it all reeling Art to cover the walls And hands to cover your ears You try to explain what it is that you hear When night falls and the wind blows Carrying the message of the weight of the world It whips flames through our homes Manufacturing early graves Toppling trees and battling with the seas It whips blood flow into our cheeks Begging for an audience Wake up! It pleads But no one will hear it The world keeps burning We stare at screens and fan the flames We consume and we are consumed Look for little pleasures to give it all measure What’s a life worth building When you can’t see through the smoke Build anyway and watch it shatter? Or patiently wait for the ashes to scatter And start again

A creaky door A squeaky floor A creppy eiree feeling Shadows here Shadows there Ghosts everywhere I feel a presence Light and airy Terrified all the same A ghost a ghoul with whom I will duel With my heavy beating heart I breathe hard Dust scattered My feet shuffle around I fear I am not alone I shudder I hear a scowl I jump I screech I run That was not at all fun

I kissed your chaos once, tongue tracing the edges of your jagged promises, swallowed your fire like it could save me, but it burned holes in my throat, Now I’m unable to scream.

You were a hymn in reverse, words stitched backwards on my brain, Needle and thread, a drug I thought was medicine, but now I see the needle’s rust.

Love is a liar with a venomous tongue, I remember the taste of poison on your lips. Your hands carved infection into my skin, the lines between passion and punishment blurred, Like rain on a cracked windshield.

I hated you, softly at first, like a shadow lurking at the edges of the sun. But now, that hatred brings me to my knees, Drowning the stars in the blackest night. You devoured me like a disease.

Every “I love you” was a loaded gun. Each kiss, a trapdoor. I fell through and kept falling, until numbness caught me like a safety net woven from the fibers of your lies.

You were beautiful once, But even love must crumble into hate, Every rose must decay, and thorns will still draw blood, Long after the pedals fade and fall.

Don’t let anyone who hasn’t walked in your shoes tell you how to tie your laces remember your destined travel to great places.

At least everyone say we shouldn’t race to be first place to not focus on our friends to not follow any trends .

They tell you to clean the mess you have created , but they have never stained the floors with there own blood .

Judged for every mistake and imperfection as they nudge my mind to the tomb , as you wait for it to consume my soul as you watch me fall .

You see society is filled with people that carry two faces , People who are willing to throw you into a grave to dim your light and stop you from being brave .

The scar upon my skin are proof of the battle I faught within my mind . I wish I could rewind to the day I etched the blade across my skin the way I signed the design .

The never ending plaster hopeing to fix the disaster , hiding the gaping wound to escape from the harm that I inflict upon myself , how the urges always win .

Don’t be alarmed ! I’m trying to be calm the way I trace around my palm taking a breath with every stroke , inhaling to ease the drumming of my chest to find a moment of rest .

Can’t you see I’m doing my best .

Darkness surrounds her As she tries to break free The binds that tie her Also tie me

We try together To untie the binds Birds of a feather Now both blind

Living in hell The house our prison We both know too well What is the reason

Rich and lucky Most people think The gilded cage is heavy Both on the brink

Luxury is a habit No money for ourselves Trust fund rabbits Life on the shelves

I find you so lovely It breaks my heart On your back grows a million trees Their eyes spaced apart As they watch me I wish I could see you But my eyes are blinded By the stars in your crown I wish I could feel you But my fingers are torn To shreds by your thorns I wish I could hear you But my ears are vanished Hidden somewhere in your mist You are only concept Not yet true, or never real? I find you so lovely It breaks my heart.

Once when I was in high school, I wrote a creative piece on laundromats. At the time, I loved them. At the time, they represented my mom.

Let me explain.

My parents finalized their divorce about May of 2014. This was shortly after my grandmother died, and shortly before I was to graduate high school. For anyone thinking of getting divorced; don’t wait until your kids are older. It really fucked me up.

But I digress.

Laundromats remind me of my mom, because her first apartment after we moved away from my dad didn’t have a washer or dryer. For the first time in my life, I had to use a laundromat.

To elaborate;

My dad is an electrician, so while we weren’t rich, we always had what we needed. Plus a little extra.

At least, we should have.

My dad had quite laundry list of bad habits when it came to money. While my mom fought to budget out the bills, my dad bought all sorts of gadgets and toys. He was horrible about money, which is why I always see loads of debt and money mismanagement as a big red flag. It’s caused a few breakups for me.

But that’s for another time.

Quarters have always been my favorite coin, at least in American money. I haven’t seen another country’s money, or held it in my hands. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will. I’d love to see a euro, and spend it, of course. For now though, quarters are great.

Because, you see,

Quarters remind me of pill bottles. My mom always kept her quarters in pill bottles. That way, we always knew exactly how much we had when we went to the laundromat. I got a roll, my mom had a roll, and my sister had a roll. With 10 dollars worth of quarters each, we could do about 2 weeks worth of laundry.

Or, if you’re my sister,

Save them up to buy a sandwich or two, and just do laundry at dads house. She wanted to stay with him most of the time, but I didn’t really understand why.

I never did laundry at my dads house again.

He never liked cauliflower No brussel sprouts nor mint with chocolate. No sugar in his coffee Never a fruit kind of candy like skittles. She’s just the same In little ways I can only hope their ends don’t match.

Not man, but more than machine In the cut lies a niggling fear uncanny valley signposts between Dei ex machina ensnare

What does it all mean? Too uncomfortable to bear A person yet not a Human being How did we get here?

For the latest tech we’re still keen Our endpoint AI whispers in our ear ChatGPT generated maps evergreen As We Race to our clockwork nightmare