“Why have You forsaken me?”

Psalm 22:1.

“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”

Matthew 27:46.

“Why have You forsaken me?”

Chop Suey — System Of A Down.

Mm.

A recurring motif, no?

Both religiously and sacrilegiously.

Curious.

(Selah.)

I suppose I could cry at the thought of an angel

deserving to die.

Ah, always so self-righteous.

Never once quite slipped for over half of your life.

Could you be that angel?

Because you… you’ve always been so good.

And then, you fell.

You were so high, though, your fall was rather like witnessing death.

So impeccable.

What for, really?

You wanted to please everyone, but so early on, the rage beneath couldn’t stay buried for long.

You pleased everyone. At the expense of your life.

(Selah.)

It’s rather fascinating, I’ll admit, 

realizing how the ultimate expression of 

human abandonment hasn’t changed in the slightest in over two millennia.

Does anyone really take the time to realize that “pleasing everyone” becomes almost indistinguishable from self-erasure?

Given the data… I’d suppose not.

The angel remained impeccable because the angel was willing to sacrifice itself.

And eventually there was nothing left to sacrifice—except itself.

I mean…

If the highest, purest creation can fall, what chance did a human trying to be flawless ever have?

(Selah.)

Oh, don’t mind me—nor mistake me for trying to play the “devil’s advocate.”

By now, I’ll suppose you’re used to my willingness to play with imagery.

But…

Yes.

The angel can have rage.

The angel can fall.

The angel can fail.

The angel can even be responsible for some of its own destruction.

But still—

why was it forsaken?

That question remains unanswered.

Was it forsaken at all?

Given the data… it’s a plausible possibility.

Was it forsaken even before it fell?

Because otherwise… why would it have fallen?

How could it?

One was impeccable. The other was flawless.

You gave away your life to please others—

until the only piece left to burn on the altar was your actual identity.

Does that count as a Sunday testimony?

(Selah.)

Did it fall?

Did it want to fall?

Was it pushed?

Was it—for a millisecond—relieved it’d been pushed?

Because then, the façade could’ve been gone.

But no—life never makes it easy like that.

You’re living on the edge.

You so wish to die. But you haven’t.

Neither of you has.

Your earlier supposition that you could cry at the thought of an angel deserving to die is being proven consistent.

Do you think, though, you’re deserving of such punishment?

If death is supposed to be a punishment, anyway.

(Selah.)

You were sitting at that pew.

Hours ago.

Half of you… wishing to believe.

Half of you, as always, already gone.

And the only question returning to your mind was…

Why have You forsaken me?

I trusted You.

I believed in You.

I defended You.

I placed my faith in You.

So why…

Without apparent remorse…

Without an apparent coming around…

Without an apparent “I’m still here” whisper…

Mercilessly…

When did I fail you?

Was it when I fell in love?

Was it when I failed others as well, for merely

discovering I had my own wills—and they didn’t always align with Yours, nor necessarily please You?

Was it when I was overzealous about Your Word, and so consumed by my hunger for knowledge and wisdom that I might’ve become a little arrogant—and imprudent, like Solomon?

I wonder.

And if any of those—

or all of them—are true…

I would still presume to ask:

Why have You forsaken me, Father?

— Crownless.

Home, a place some don't know, some leave to be on their own as the sayings go home is wherever the hearts rest best never go alone throughout life and as this journey starts I've shown parts of my problematic to absolve automatic learn he a traumatic life without a wife or prospect ever rejected but these in the zone frozen neglected prophecy and legacies as always he evolved beyond thoughtful systematic brought fully his edged habits for them to inhabitate asking often if intoxication just frustrated sensations must straightened hesitation as innebreabraition breathing eviled polish lost in Alice's rabbits hole...

I just no u always have something planned

I really like the version of me when I'm with you
No, seriously I do
I love you

And I'll never let any hardships cross our way
These days you don't seem to miss your ex
Do you know where he is now?
Well, I can't explain what I did to him, where and how

why can't you

JUST LEAVE —

why can't you?

why can't you?

why can't you just leave me alone? please?

please can y —

please can —

please can you just —

can you I SAID PLEASE —

i'm not yelling. i'm not yelling.

I'M NOT YELLING!!!

​

When my heart was hollow,

And my body filled with sorrow.

Heard your voice so sweet like the chirps of a sparrow,

And when I saw you, I was struck by cupid's arrow.

You should be in an art gallery for your beauty,

Or rather in a temple, worshiped as a deity.

I wish I were born as one of the dragonflies,

To see your beauty, I need more than two of my eyes.

I would want to be the light,

To reflect off you and bless the world with your sight.

I searched all books in the library,

And all words from a dictionary.

But there was nothing I could find,

To describe what was in my mind,

When I found you in that white dress,

Felt a sharp pain in my chest.

Knew that you were the one in my life,

Can I take you home as my wife.

You tell me I should want you first—that I should make the first move and come to you. But I can’t.

I’m used to feeling like nothing, and that’s exactly what your actions show me: that I’m not worth wanting.

It doesn’t matter what I look like, because you’ll never want me.

So I’ve chosen a life of being with a man who wants nothing to do with me beyond coexistence. I want more than that… but I’ve convinced myself I don’t deserve it.

I want a connection that goes beyond friendship. I want that with the man I love. And I love you. But you don’t want that with me.

Maaaaan, what to write, what to write?

I’m drunk, and so you’d think I’d have more to say. Perhaps my love for her remains unchanged, or so I’d like to think.

I’ve always wanted to bring out the best in her. Make her notice my name and say it a little lovelier than last time.

I just want to hear her say it. Play it on repeat. I know I couldn’t help myself.

I’ve been murmuring baby to myself for the past year, in the depths of my longing.

I wonder how she would respond to that. If she, too, has waves pulling at her tongue, sinking down to her heart.

I’ve made stupid choices in my life, drawing me further from the shore.

Hoping her lifeboat would drift by, telling myself that it should be me, with an aching of a tearful sea.

I should’ve saved her. I should save her. I can still…

I…

Still,

I carry hope, for if there’s anything keeping me afloat, it’s her.

Even when I’ve forgotten her voice, forgotten her smile, and gone blind.

I’ll never dry up.

Not with the hold she has on my eyes, my soul.

So for now, I’ll simply go on and enjoy the rest of my beer.

Cheers. 🍻

meet yourself and greet your maker

the world is made of lies

the little force is weak

but of the two, it's greater

drop a secret like a wish

be discreet with all the haters

deceit is dripping down your widow's peak

filling up that empty crater

where your heart's supposed to be

an empty note says 'see you later'

lucky stones upon your dresser and all those special crystals

they're never gonna save ya

my computer's always on, now i miss my old screen saver

if it was easy to detach, i wouldn't need to write a thing

the ball and chain is human nature

scrolling down the rambling feeds

at least we're sparing trees by saving all the paper

face the hidden hand when it reaches for your neighbors

i'll never understand the trust in modern man

and the love for all the fakers

i prefer the wild to all the mild-mannered

crazy is my favorite flavor

can't trap them in a box

evading every label, they're escaping their containers

finders, seekers play for keeps

and when you lose it all, i know you're gonna blame us

exhaustion stains the faces of everyone who's famous

they mistake this for complaining

but i'm the best explainer

throw your status down the drain

while you're soaking your retainer

if you're having trouble sleeping, open up a book

and read it like a seventh grader

karma's slowly catching up

like an endless escalator

place your back against the wall

and fend off the imitators

the inmates run the prison now

and the biggest threat you face

isn't hate or violence

it's your own erasure

I don't know you yet. I don't know where you are, likely at home. I don't know what you do, likely lie in bed. And I don't know what you think right now.

I wish I would. I wish I would know where to look for you. I wish I knew what you'd like, what you aspire, what makes you smile. I wish I could find you and tell your we are meant to be.

But I can't.

You're somewhere out there. You have to be.... Cuz if you aren't this emptiness inside me will never disappear. It will always pull on me to find you.

It will always remind me that it's there. Cuz this emptiness fells like there's a piece out there matching it. This emptiness, I feel it everywhere.

In my hands at night, when they both feel like they're missing their counterpart. When they get cold from my open window and it just feels they're supposed to be wrapped up in someone else's hands right now.

On my waist whenever I come to a stop, when it feels like a pair of arms should exist out there that match their curve. When I cook and the idea of being hugged from behind feels so right I can almost feel it. Just almost.

Anytime I lie down to rest and theres space. Anytime I go visit my parents and drive alone. Anytime I achieve something and I wish I had someone to make proud with it. Anytime I wish It wasn't just me out here.

I wish I could find you. To share with you. To dedicate my every step to making you smile. Because even though I don't know you yet, I am sure it will be all I need.

I'm sure you will be all I need.

Your smile. I bet it's beautiful and pure. I bet once I see it, I'll never need any other reward in my life. It must be. Because I will love you, with all my being.

Your eyes. I am certain they are a sight to get lost in. I am certain once I see them, I will fall for you. I will love them, because they are a part of you.

Your passions. I know we won't have the same and that's good. I want to hear you talk about them, explain things to me and get lost in your own thoughts. Because I will be able to see how happy they make you.

I just wish you were here so bad right now. Looking over my shoulder, smiling and commenting on this: "Why you writing this... You already got me!" How I wish you'd say that right now.

How I wish you would meet me tomorrow. How I wish we could write our own story. How I wish I could cherish you. How I wish I could hold you.

I don't know you yet and maybe that's what scares me the most about this. You might be out there. But maybe you aren't. Maybe I am not meant to fill this emptiness. Maybe I'll never get to know you.

Edit: Restored original line spacing, cuz it looked weird before.

Death is silent and stiff.
But at least you died on your terms.
At home.

An old lady feline who just got tired.
And then more tired.
Looking for the next spot
Until finally
Lying down.

For the last time.

What if the hands of time could turn,
And all we thought we knew could change?
If memories were coded into the mind,
Knowing they could be rewritten or rearranged.

She's travelled through a thousand revelations,
Through borrowed hours and fractured years,
Found wisdom where the darkness lingered,
And measured time in love and tears.

For if the mind could be recoded,
Its memories altered or restored,
Would you return the clock to undo yesterday,
Or seek a future unexplored?

And fuck it, why not let her live?
Has she not learned enough by now?
Must every second hold another revelation,
Another question of why and how?

She never asked to govern time,
Nor carry every secret ever told,
Though she could dismantle all
That any mortal has ever known.
Yet she'd rather dance beneath the stars,
And find a little warmth to hold.

She's seen enough to question everything,
From love and memory to fate,
And wonders whether hearts once parted
Could meet before the hour grows late.

So, Kronos, if you lent your hourglass,
And let her wander through its sand,
Would you take her where two hearts first met,
Or somewhere neither life had planned?

Would you reverse the years of sorrow,
Or let their lessons gently stay?
Would you show her all the lives not lived,
Or grant her one unburdened day?

For every second holds a history,
Each passing hour another choice,
And somewhere in the folds of yesterday,
A heart still recognises another's voice.

For all her insight, all her wonder,
One simple truth remains quite clear:
She has nothing left to fear.

And if you could take her anywhere,
Beyond the reach of yesterday,
Where would you take her in time, and why?
And would you let her choose to stay?

For if the mind could hold new memories,
And old perceptions could be changed,
Would love remain the one true constant
When every moment was rearranged?

Could you unwind the threads of destiny,
Return the sands to where they fell?
Or would the hearts that once belonged
Still recognise each other well?

Perhaps the greatest gift of all
Is neither prophecy nor fate,
But letting her relearn what love is,
Without the weight of years that wait.

And after all she's come to question,
Perhaps a little faith will do.
For if you could turn back the hands of time,
Would you begin again with her too?

And somewhere in the folds of time,
She remembers Alanis in Dogma with a smile,
That cheery, childlike wonder of creation,
Finding joy in existence all the while.

For after such an emotional journey,
She's only just found strength to rise,
To gather herself in the mortal world,
With a thousand questions still in her eyes.

And nothing feels quite as real as once it did,
For her perspective has profoundly changed.
She sees beyond the familiar boundaries,
Where time and meaning rearrange.

And no, she is not insane for questioning
The things that others cannot understand.
She asks for neither blind acceptance
Nor judgement from an unseen hand.

Could any among you have endured
The weight of all she's travelled through?
And still be standing, still be breathing,
With the courage to begin anew?

Only some of you will fully understand those questions she presents to you.

Perhaps this is how the story had to unfold - the masterplan,
Through every sorrow, hope and fear,
Her emotional journey traced in words,
For anyone who cares to hear.

Each verse reveals another chapter,
Each change of heart, another day,
A record of a woman finding strength
When everything familiar fell away.

For even after all she's travelled through,
And everything she's yet to understand,
She deserves some insight,
And let tomorrow take her hand.

Who among you is prepared to speak,
To discuss what might be done?
While others seem renewed and rested,
She bears exhaustion when day is done.

The buzzing marks her waking hours,
Yet still she questions, still she stands.
Within her tale, the Creator shaped her
With purpose only time understands.

So when the hour for truth arrives,
Let wisdom speak and kindness stay.
And when you're ready for an honest conversation,
Come forward gently and guide the way.

But for now, she'll find a sweeter buzzing,
A little dopamine to brighten up the night.
Exhausted though her body may be,
She's still entitled to some delight.

She lost her favourite toys along the way,
Now where's the fun or fairness in that?
Even a weary woman deserves her pleasures,
And a cheeky grin beneath her cosmic hat.

For if the hours insist on buzzing,
She might as well enjoy a thrill or two.
A little pleasure, laughter and release,
And something rather naughty to pursue.

He seems to approve too! 😉

👽🌌✨💫🌹

Between the Watch and the Silence

A poem of two dreams

I. The Watch Shop
I went to church to meet my friends,
A place I thought I knew,
But half walked out through unfamiliar doors,
And half went wandering through.

A watch shop stood where faith should be,
With glass and gold displayed,
And I walked in with empty feet,
In hole-worn socks arrayed.

The people who can buy these things,
I thought, don’t look the type.
As though the wealth behind the glass
Were some elaborate lie.

My friends had wandered further on,
So I devised a way
To move between the desks by hand,
And shuffle through the day.

They laughed at me. I caught a glimpse
Of myself within a mirror—
A neck like Haaland’s, stretched absurd,
My silhouette no clearer.

And yet I laughed along with them;
The fool was me, it’s true.
There was no shame in looking strange
Beneath that gilded view.

Then, on a whim, I tried a flip,
Expecting to descend—
But gravity forgot its work,
And would not let me end.

I hung suspended in the air,
No landing, no reply.
I couldn’t understand the rules
Of staying in the sky.

We left the shop. The dream withdrew.
The waking world grew near.
The room was hot, the night was done—
And nothing brought me clear.

II. The Foam Stick
Somewhere else, a distant place,
A trip beneath strange skies,
Two teachers kept their watch on us,
Two pairs of judging eyes.

And there she was, the girl I’d learned
To keep a space between;
A history I could not change,
A silence in the scene.

A telephone call broke her calm.
She wept, then came to me,
And wrapped her arms around my back
As though I were the key.

I held her, not knowing what
The moment asked me to do.
Then pointed towards the watching teacher
— You saw her come here too.

But she mistook the gesture’s aim,
And read a cruel intent.
The girl released me, turned away,
And wept at what she’d sensed.

I tried to speak. The words were there.
They crowded at the door.
But every time I reached for them,
The teacher spoke once more.

I turned to one, then turned again,
Convinced that one might hear;
But neither gave my words a place,
And neither let me clear.

A soft foam stick lay in my hand,
A ridiculous defence.
I struck it out against the air,
Against their indifference.

It touched their heads; they barely moved.
No anger, no surprise.
I brought it to the other one,
Still searching for her eyes.

I poked, I struck, I tried again—
A child against a wall.
The stick could make no difference;
It changed nothing at all.

For what could force an ear to hear?
What blow could make words true?
What use is knowing what you meant
If none will listen to you?

The girl was gone. The teachers stayed.
My explanation, lost.
I stood amid the wreckage of
A truth that had no cost—

Except the price of being judged
Before the case was heard,
Of having every gesture weighed
But never one clear word.

III. Between the Dreams
One night, I laughed at being strange,
And floated without knowing why.
The next, I fought to make things clear,
And could not make them try.

In one, the world forgot its laws;
In one, it would not bend.
In one, I rose without a cause;
In one, I could not reach the end.

Perhaps the mirror asks me this:
What matters when we’re seen?
The foolish shape we show the world,
Or what we truly mean?

Perhaps the sky can hold a man
Who doesn’t know he’s flown.
Perhaps the hardest fall is not
The one we take alone.

But somewhere past the glass and gold,
Past judgement, noise and fear,
There waits a place where I can speak—
And someone chooses to hear.

Winter is coming
The sting of wind against your face
The sound of it whispering as it runs over your ears
Biting
The leaves fall victim to the wind
Their corpses carried away
Blood red leaves
Bruise yellow leaves
They fall, twisting in the wind
Mornings are darker
The leaves cover the light
When the light finally comes, it shows frost coating the grass
Suffocating and freezing
The frost devours the land
It kills the fresh, beautiful tomatoes
They pop open, the frost stretching their skin to its breaking point
“Crack”
Tomato on the ground
The frost eats it
The frost eats everything
The frost will eat my corpse once I die
The frost will turn to snow, thick fluffy mounds of it
Winter will come
We cannot stop it
The wind whispers this to me.
But.
Winter punishes earth, but earth lives on
It keeps going, even through being frozen and broken
I will keep going, as does the earth I walk upon
I will continue
The frost won’t eat me yet
I mourn my red tomato, but their life has come to its natural ending
I will resist the frost.
For my tomato.

if only you had waited a little longer

maybe your family would ask you for a favor

maybe they needed help, maybe you could solve it

maybe you could solve everything

your friend would call you, saying they have a surprise

maybe they bought a new house, maybe they married, maybe they won the lottery... but it would all come crashing down

maybe you were a glance away from meeting the love of your life, having kids, taking care of them, maybe you could be grandparents... but you missed out on it. you couldn't hold on

maybe the tiniest hope that you're clinging to would soon allow you to reach your dreams... maybe you wanted a palace, maybe you wanted calm and balance... maybe that hope would solve all your problems...

maybe, just maybe, the "maybe's" you once considered would become real. maybe the years of work you did wouldn't be in vain... maybe, you wouldn't leave everyone loving you behind when you heard the big news you would get a few hours later.

it is too unfortunate, if only you had waited a little longer, the garden of life would spring, and you'd see it flower

If you could see inside my mind,
the places that we go,
the little dreams I have of us
and things you'll never know.

I'd pull you close and kiss your lips,
and hold you for a while,
I'd whisper all the things I feel
and melt beneath your smile.

I'd spend my mornings next to you,
my evenings in your arms,
and fall asleep beside you,
so safe and loved and warm.

And sometimes when I close my eyes,
I almost feel you near,
close enough to make me smile,
then wish that you were here.

But until dreams become our days,
and all our wishes come true,
I'll keep on dreaming every night
of waking up with you.

mr hedgehog
are you muddling home?
but you’re caught between rubber and road
mr hedgehog
are you being missed?
my what short life you lived
mr hedgehog
i’m going to go now

Lillypad of the Mind

I see her face in my minds eye,
She smiles at me, reaching her small arms out,
I feel waves of emotion inside.

We embrace and I feel like she’s given me her warm rainbow,
It moves like the ocean waves do, but only for me,
A new feeling, like a pulsing nirvana.

She is only a memory of a daughter I never had,
A gift my mind gave to me, to feel the primal version of love,
An experience of true happiness.

I will always remember everything about her,
The moment will play like an ouroboros in my mind,
She hugs me and whispers,

it’s not too late.

If they opened the door, would you let her in?
Would you turn back the clock to where it all began?
Knowing what you know of the architecture of time,
Would you change the ending, rewrite the design?

She has seen a world where histories bend,
Where perceptions can shift and old narratives end.
But of all she was shown, one question remains:
Could two wounded hearts ever begin again?

If the true King stood beside her once more,
Would he offer the safety she needed before?
Plug her back into a life without fear,
Promise her peace and genuinely stay near?

Not necessarily lovers, perhaps family or friends,
For love takes many forms, and not everything ends.
The heart has no logic, no reason or rhyme,
And some connections survive the cruellest of times.

Perhaps every emotion was hers to endure,
To understand what mattered, what love could restore.
From darkness to light, and from light into night,
Two halves of a story still seeking what's right.

If you could rewind it, knowing the cost,
Would you prevent all the years that were lost?
Or would you preserve what the suffering revealed,
And finally allow those old wounds to be healed?

She has guarded her heart for most of her life,
Through betrayal, abuse and unimaginable strife.
Yet somehow the armour has fallen away,
And she wonders what all of you might have to say.

And to those little birds, still chirping away,
Admire her legs and her arse from afar, if you may!
But until someone explains how to tidy this mess,
You'll have to make do with the view, nothing less.

For two hearts once imagined as written in time
May still find their peace without reason or rhyme.
And perhaps all that matters, when everything's done,
Is whether two people can stand as one.

She hopes that the buzzing will quieten one day,
That the noise and the heartache will finally give way.
No more confusion, no unanswered pleas,
Just honesty, kindness and a little more peace.

She'll be taking some time to organise her flight,
To rediscover her laughter, her freedom, her light.
The door isn't locked, but the choice must be free;
No love should require someone to surrender their peace.

So, if you could change it, would you begin?
Would you offer your hand and finally let her in?
Not to erase every lesson or pretend nothing's true,
But to write something kinder for her and for you.

She'll leave you that question and step out of sight,
With a heart that still hopes and a future to write.
The birds may keep singing; she'll check in someday.

Until then, take care.
She's got a life to reclaim.

These legs were made for dancing as you have all seen.

🌹🕊️🦋✨

Não me toque, disse a flor a João.
- Mas eu quero te tocar.
- Mas se me tocar você vai se ferir.
- Olhe, eu tenho espinhos.
- Eu não ligo que você tenha espinhos. Eu te quero.
- Você não me quer, você quer me colher.
- Não é o mesmo?
- Claro que não. Um você me tem pra si, no outro, a gente se tem.

The morning breaks in fragments, sharp and bold,
It crowns the distant ridge in sudden gold,
Igniting crowns of amber, bronze, and fire,
While all below remains a shadowed choir.

The valley rests in cool, unlit repose,
Untouched by where the brightest current flows.
Yet in the dark, the quiet green looks up,
And drinks the beauty from a distant cup.

For light need not fall directly on our face
To fill a quiet, unassuming space.
We catch the glow reflected from the height,
And share the wonder of a borrowed light.

There is a peace within the soft, dim shade,
Where secret growth and gentle things are made.
You do not have to stand within the blaze
To feel the warmth of autumn’s fleeting days.

The sun still shines for those who wait below,
Illuminating all we need to know:
That beauty reaches down through mist and air,
And even in the dark, the light is there.