Hey there! How’s life? You don’t know? It’s alright. Let me tell you two secrets. One, almost nobody knows how to answer that question. So here I am, writing about life because apparently you can’t conclude it into one sentence. As I go, I also try to humor myself, so if you are the unfortunate one that reads my bad puns and mostly immature writings, I suggest that you immediately sign up for therapy. Why? Because here’s an explanation of who I am:


I pour my soul on these papers.
They’re brown and matted, old and used.
They’re stained and soaked
With dripping coffee of my sleepless nights.
The paper is filled, but I am not.
I’ve a lot to say, a lot to express,
But my paper is full; I cannot write anymore.
So I keep it in, bottle it tightly…
I only hope I won’t erupt
With volcanoes of misery
And joy.

I pour my soul on these papers.
They’re drenched and limp
Because of the gasoline spilled.
I see them grab a lighter,
And they lit the paper, turning it to Ashes,
Dead now. No!

I pour my soul on these papers,
Singing tired words and broken rhythms;
Scarred harmonies and shrill orchestras.
There is no order, only chaos.
And I seem to lose everything-
gone astray now.

I pour my soul on these papers:
Swirls of gold mixed with silver;
Magical words and vivid pictures
Stuck in a never-ending rewind.
It’s tiring.

I pour my soul on these papers…
There’s nothing to pour anymore.
It’s done.
It’s death.
I said I would write until my last breath.
Inhale. Exhale. Silence.

My nerves were fluttering .
My heart was thundering.
My anxiety was pumping.
But my feelings were -are- silent.
I had nothing else to write.

What a sight! So-

I look at these blank papers and wonder where the emotions hid.
I didn’t hurt anymore, but I realized I never did
Because THIS hurt -s- more:
Being in a numb state, dead but alive.
I smell -ed- the decay and what could’ve been and what could’ve died,
If ONLY I gave -give- it a chance.

I look at these blank papers and wonder when it had -s- all gone wrong.
Where my soul, or better yet, my heart
had a tear that I didn’t notice.
Voyaging through the waves of tribulation and sin,
I saw a lot of hurts that did not heal.
This doesn’t seem real.
It never does


Complicated, eh?