Fragmentation Stories

A collection of miscellaneous poetry often dealing with finitude/mortality, the vastness and overwhelming complexity of the cosmos as well as society, the loss of control brought about by complexity and increasing fragmentation, fatalist alienation, and Faustian isolation/solitude and pessimism.

Fragmentation// the process or state of breaking or being broken into small or separate parts. ××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××× It's hard for me to complete my poems. And I finally decided to share some of my poetry with strangers. These are short poems or fragments of which I have written regarding my life, opinions, my personal self, etc. Enjoy~☕

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"I do not crave anyone that'll fix me, just someone who will hold my hand when I fix myself." [Also available on: Asianfanfics (blackfantasies_) Ao3 (illusionary_dreams)]

She almost had it. Had it all, carried down the path with grace. But life is unfair. She dies. A ray of light touches her cold, pale skin and she closes her eyes. But then there is warmth. Blood in her veins and breath in her lungs. Is she is back? Is she is alive? Is she is saved?

Poems taken from my thoughts, over many topics.

What is it that remains when everything is still moving? ~ If the world is full, why does something within it feel unseen? And if nothing is missing... why does the search continue? Two walks through the same light. Two breaths through the same rain. Yet who is the one that changes-the world, or the one looking? ~ Is there a glass, or only the belief of distance? And if the glass were never there... what would be left to notice? ~ A question appears, then dissolves before it can be held. Another arrives, but does it belong to anyone at all? ~ Is understanding something that arrives - or something that disappears when named? And when the search quiets, what remains - quiet, or openness, or something without a name? ~ No answer is offered here. Only the invitation to look again. And again. And again.

Winner of the 2016 Anti-Watty Awards. his eyes glazed his tea grew cold his calloused hands trembled he gradually stopped listening to me he never came back

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