Dear Diary,
- Reads 1,169
- Votes 41
- Parts 15
Ongoing56m
Last published Mon, Oct 6, 2025
My sacred place. Inner thoughts. A grain of sand in this vast universe.
All Rights Reserved
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Bedroom Whispers
The bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were content with the strokes and curves of the fluid dispenser. They seemed to have joined the fast-lane train, and thus demand new meals. While I lay down and hit the keys with a mystic rhythmic sway, I hear the sounds as they hit my ears. No. They're not forceful. Not now, at least. Like music from the slow strumming of a guitar, these sounds bring messages. And memories. And musings. And a medley, sometimes. And so it is, that I'm made to scribe. For when gods speak, their words are immortal. Oh. Wait. They're just thoughts. I thought as much.Complete
SAND
𝑆𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠-𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛, 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦. 𝑆𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑒. SAND ~By Vyrenoir~ Siderea Vale was diagnosed with Oneirophrenia as a child. a rare disorder where dreams bleed into waking life. For years, she's learned to live with the distortion. Medications, therapy, routine. She smiles, she works, she pretends to be normal. But the edges of her reality keep slipping. The people around her change. The days repeat. Time bends, folds, and forgets itself. Her doctors say it's her mind unraveling. But what if it isn't? What if something or someone is reaching through the cracks? A presence obsessed, patient, and timeless. A man who whispers through her dreams, bending time just to touch her again. Until time itself shatters in millions of tiny pieces... like sand. SAND is a surreal dark romance of obsession, blurred reality, and the entity who refuses to let go-no matter how many lifetimes it takes.
Imagine ✔
My poetry. | © planetaryinfluence |Complete
||Will-O'-The-Wisp || 💫#FreeMentalIllness ||Wattys 2020||
✿*:･ﾟPoetry ﾟ･:*✿ ~FEATURED ON WATTPAD'S POETRY LIST~ ||•WINNER Of The Recognition Awards•|| ||WINNER of The Second Ohana Awards|| ||WINNER of The Best Aesthetics In April Jane's Awards|| ||WINNER of the Constellation Awards|| ||WINNER of the Young blood Awards|| •Will-O'-The-Wisp • ❝A Misleading Elusive Goal Or Hope❞. •Magic Shop• ❝A Psychodramatic Technique Which Exchanges Fear For A Positive Attitude❞. ─━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━ Highest Ranking In Poetry and Poems- #1 ─━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━──━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━ Here's To Those Whose Demons Crawl Inside Their Head Fighting To Be Let Out . Here's To Those Whose Minds Have Been Left Torn And Tattered After The War Against Themselves. Here's To Those Whose Minds Are Dark Labyrinths Of Thoughts, Fuelled By Their Lost Dreams And Broken Memories. ✧♬•*¨*•.｡✧♬•*¨*•.✧♬•*¨*•.｡｡✧♬•*¨*•.✧♬•*¨*•.｡Complete
Silent Echoes
This is where I let everything out-the chaos, the silence, the things I can't say out loud. It doesn't judge, doesn't ask why, doesn't need explanations. It just exists, ready to catch whatever spills from my mind, whether it's broken pieces or fleeting moments of joy. It feels like talking to someone who's always there but never speaks, just listens-and somehow, that's enough.Complete
Palmprints on my Soul
This isn't a story about perfect people or happy endings tied up with a bow. 🎀 This is a collection of late-night thoughts, heartaches that left marks, and the quiet moments no one talks about.🕯️ It's about growing up, feeling too much, and finding beauty in the mess of it all. ⌨️ If you've ever felt misunderstood, too soft for this world, or like your heart was both your greatest gift and your biggest burden-this is for you. Turn the page. You might just see yourself here.🤍
Petals of my moonflower
Red isn't always romance, sometimes it's blood, Moon isn't always for lovers, but sometimes for secret cries, Flowers aren't always for marriage, but sometimes for grave, Petals aren't always soft, sometimes they prick the soul. No plagiarism/No hatred plz. Also some things might contain mature contents like self harm. I want to say those kinds of suicidal poems are not to inspire anyone to self harm. I'm strictly against self harm myself. Those thoughts are just a means to release myself. Started writing this book around 25th June, 2021Complete
paracosm-delusional nightmares
{poetry : completed} "𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞." in a tiny corner of the world, but in the vast corner of my imagination, this is my paracosmic delusion, something that i've created out of indignant, dejected and euphoric emotions. each word in this book constitutes my delusional nightmares, the ones that i know aren't really there, yet i write about them anyway. this is me, my barest and deepest feelings, and my monstrous thoughts. ✦✦✦ {all rights reserved || ©2021, ashe} {published on may 30, 2021} {cover designed by @paracosmic_being} {peace \/}Complete
The bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were content with the strokes and curves of the fluid dispenser. They seemed to have joined the fast-lane train, and thus demand new meals. While I lay down and hit the keys with a mystic rhythmic sway, I hear the sounds as they hit my ears. No. They're not forceful. Not now, at least. Like music from the slow strumming of a guitar, these sounds bring messages. And memories. And musings. And a medley, sometimes. And so it is, that I'm made to scribe. For when gods speak, their words are immortal. Oh. Wait. They're just thoughts. I thought as much.
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