closed.

Closed.
          creating a calmer corner.
          Join me here: [ @trashyd4ath ]

The sharpest mind can still cut its wielder.

I’m not writing just 'cause i can.
          I’m not here to drop trauma like breadcrumbs
          hoping someone picks it up and calls it poetry.
          
          I’m not throwing words in a well
          just to hear my own silence bounce back.
          
          i wanna write with why.
          i wanna feel the sentence before i finish it.
          not just wrap chaos in metaphors
          and hope nobody notices I’m still lost.
          
          I’m tired.
          tired of pretty lines that say everything and nothing.
          tired of calling confusion “creative”.
          tired of hiding behind “I’m just expressive”
          when I’m really just avoiding the truth.
          
          I’m not against mess.
          I’m just asking it to introduce itself first.
          let the chaos know its own name
          before it speaks through me.
          
          i wanna write like i breathe,
          smooth. real. alive.
          not like I’m drowning
          and trying to make my last gasp sound poetic.

Life kinda feels like lukewarm tea... not cozy, not cold, just there... emotionally beige.

Sometimes I feel like a forgotten sandwich in my desk drawer, watching the world move on while I rot... quietly, and with a weird sense of dignity.

my heart at the helm doesn't lead me to anything good.

‘trying to hear / explore / follow / test / understand what the winds are trying to tell me’ is my lifestyle my motto btw.

there was just a magical thunderstorm last night.

I live with my head, 
          
          otherwise my heart would break.

when needed, all you have at hand are headphones and your favorite playlists.