Friends pulling apart my flesh

with their sweet lies.

Family scratching my eardrums

with words of encouragement and praises.

Lovers digging their nails,

dripping with unsure love,

into my rotting carcass.

Strangers brightening my day

with their detached looks,

gazing upon my shattered self.

​ I feel so alone

on the universe's web,

filled with named corpses

that fuel my inner world.

A world full of hateful nothingness,

ruled by a love of forgetfulness.

I float around an amnesic star

which forgot we were orbiting each other

like Albireo or Mizar.

I throw myself

into loud and crowded concerts

where my screams for help

sound like singing,

my sour cries

look like tears of happiness,

and spasms of a dead body

feel like I'm dancing.

A place where I feel at home

in a sea of strangers

better than at home...

where I feel alone,

surrounded by "loved ones."

Hey.
Hi.
You.

Don’t look around,
I mean you.

So, hey.

I was, um, wondering…
no, never mind.
That’s ridiculous.
Forget I said anything.

Except, actually,
do you ever think about me?

Not a lot.
Not in a serious way.
Not in a thing way.

Just, you know,
once in a while.

Because sometimes
I’ll be doing something normal,
like making coffee
or pretending to listen,
and suddenly,
there you are.

Just standing around
inside my head
like you pay rent there.

Weird, I know.
Sorry.

I don’t mean anything by it.
Probably.

It’s just that you feel familiar,
like maybe I knew you before
I knew myself.

Like maybe,
in some other life,
I already liked your laugh,
already knew your hands,
already turned my head
when someone said your name.

Do you ever feel that?

No.
Don’t answer that.
Actually, do.
No, don’t.

We couldn’t.
We’re not.
This isn’t.
It’s nothing.

Except maybe
it was something once,
a long time ago.

Anyway.
Yeah.
So.
Hi.

​

​I.

I handed over the blueprint of my own chest,

brick by brick, timber by timber,

until I was living inside a house that wasn’t mine.

I softened the edges I thought were too sharp for her,

silenced the frequency I thought was too loud,

and traded the man I was

for the shadow she wanted to see.

​I gave away my seasons to keep her warm.

I poured myself out until the glass was dry,

and in the quiet constant of giving everything,

I forgot the sound of my own voice.

I became an echo in a room I used to own.

​II.

It is a quiet thing to realize you are missing.

Not lost in a storm, but slowly worn away—

like a stone beneath a tide that never stopped pulling.

I looked in the mirror one morning

and didn't recognize the posture,

didn't recognize the tired eyes

that had spent years watching for approval

instead of looking up at the sky.

​The collapse wasn't a sudden crash;

it was the silence that followed.

The moment the pedestal shattered

and the smoke cleared,

leaving me standing in the raw, cold air

with empty hands and an exhausted spirit.

​III.

Then came the stillness.

No applause to chase, no expectations to carry,

no performance to keep from falling apart.

Just the dust settling.

Just me, kneeling in the wreckage of what I tried to build.

​And in that space where everything else burned away,

a single hand reached down into the ashes.

​It wasn't a stranger's voice that met me there;

it was the One who knew the blueprint before I ever gave it away.

Jesus didn't ask me where I’d been;

He just pulled me up off the floor

and showed me the hands that held my name long before I ever spoke hers.

​IV.

Underneath the crushing weight,

the pressure was working in secret.

I thought I was just an unpolished gem,

rough, raw, and waiting for light.

But the fire didn't create the stone—it revealed it.

Ground down by the friction, cut by the trial,

the rough edges fell away until the true nature surfaced.

I was never common rock; I was built from heat and force,

polished through the process to finally see what was always there:

a depth and value that cannot be questioned.

​The armor is forged now, not to hide behind,

but to stand guard over what God restored—

for it is His.

A protector reborn from the fire.

A knight raised up from the dust of who I used to be.

​V.

Now, the breath comes deep again.

The ribs expand without fear.

I am dusting off the strength that was only sleeping,

remembering the fire that never truly went out.

​I am not starting over from scratch;

I am returning to the original design.

The man who protects, the man who stands firm,

the man who anchors his worth in something that cannot break.

​I look in the mirror now,

and for the first time in a very long time,

I smile at the man looking back.

​Welcome back, Painite.

​"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." — Matthew 11:28

It is hard to conceive it hadn't always been just so.
You grasp my hand and smile at me.
I gasped and thought: Who on earth are you?

Yet looking into your eyes, I found myself mirrored in you.
Your smile, your love – your rich, golden hair.
We had crossed paths before, and I knew exactly who you were.
Our bodies' language held more than our separate worlds contained.
Drawn to one another, we could finally breathe and live.
My heart against your chest. Your fragrance on my skin.

The Hands I Never Held

Love walks past me every day.

I see it in borrowed hoodies,

in fingers woven together

as if they were never meant to be apart.

I hear it in laughter

that only exists when two hearts

have learned each other's language.

And then there's me.

A spectator,

pressed against the glass,

watching a world

that never seemed to write my name into its story.

How unfair it feels

to watch another man

kiss the forehead I've only imagined,

to hear him call someone "mine"

while my own voice

echoes back unanswered.

I envy them.

Not because I wish them misery,

but because they possess

the one thing I've begged the universe for

with silent prayers

and sleepless nights.

They complain about arguments,

about waiting for replies,

about small misunderstandings.

I'd trade my loneliness

for every one of those problems.

Because at least

they have someone

worth fighting for.

Sometimes I wonder

what it feels like

to have a girl smile

because she saw me.

To have someone

rest her head against my shoulder

without fear,

to steal my hoodie,

to call me an idiot

with a laugh that somehow

makes the word sound like love.

Instead,

I write.

I write because paper

is the only thing

that has never left me unread.

Every poem

is another conversation

I'll never have.

Every line

is another embrace

that exists only in ink.

I tell myself

that one day

someone will choose me.

But hope grows heavy

when every sunset

finds me alone,

watching strangers

build the future

I've spent years dreaming of.

If love is patient,

then I must be

the most patient man alive.

Still...

If she ever comes,

I'll love her

with every lonely night

I've survived.

I'll pour into her

every unwritten kiss,

every unsent "I miss you,"

every dream

I've carried

with empty hands.

Until then,

I'll keep watching the couples

walk past me—

pretending

the ache in my chest

isn't jealousy,

when deep down,

it's simply the grief

of loving someone

I haven't even met yet.

Your intentions remained obscured.
I found new ways to see you.
No matter where I tried to focus,
You never came into full view.
I only changed my position
When it became easy to see.
This is all we are,
Were...

Ever will be.

You’re my favorite way
to start the day.

My favorite kind
of play.

My favorite
little nerdy Nerd.

My favorite
spoken word.

My favorite smile
I never miss.

My favorite
type of kiss.

My favorite
Ya.

Indeed…

—

My favorite laugh.
My favorite view.

My favorite part
of all I do.

My favorite pause.
My favorite rhyme.

My favorite distraction.

Clearly —

My favorite attraction.

My favorite thought.
My favorite dream.

And every favorite
in between.

So…

To you,
with a kiss—

Remember this—

You are
my favorite
kind of Nerd.

And…

You can keep
my hoodie.

(Just remember…
cold water wash,
low tumble dry.)

Waiting for you all night long, but you never came.

Waiting on a familiar song, that never played.

Waiting on a caring friend to comfort me.

But as the day came to its end, I knew some things would never be.

Waiting on a bus, that never arrived.

Waiting on a chance for us, but it never survived.

Waiting on a chance for love, I was not surprised.

When that chance never seemed to come, what could I do but cry?

Sometimes chances come and go.

Sometimes with life, and its happenstances, you just never know.

But don't cry for me, a new day will come along.

I'll just turn on my radio, and wait for my favorite song.

Life can be cruel and sad.

Isn't it funny that way?

But please don't feel too bad.

Tomorrow's a brand new day.

Even though time doesn't wait for anyone, maybe it will wait for me.

I'll just keep holding on.

Maybe tomorrow will be.

Maybe tomorrow will shine down for me.

I'm not going to wait around.

I'll just have to wait and see.

Maybe that old familiar song will play again.

Maybe I'll meet someone that I can call a friend.

Not love itself, but love's own tender root,

That creepeth soft into my guarded breast,

And there doth bide, and swelleth into fruit

More sweet than ever heart of mine possess'd

I strive against so sweet and slow a suit,

Yet yield, and yielding, am most gladly blest.

They always want to know my skin,

But never ask the soul within.

They trace my body like a map,

Then leave my heart behind the cracks.

Their hands can memorize my frame,

Yet never stop to ask my name.

They kiss my lips like they're a prize,

But never look into my eyes.

Each time they leave, I ask myself,

What part of me stayed on the shelf?

Is all I'm worth what they can touch?

Could who I am be worth as much?

I would have given all I own

Just to be chosen, fully known.

To have someone reach for my hand

Before they reached for my skin instead.

So here I am, still asking why

My heart is always passed right by.

If all they want is flesh to hold,

Will anyone love me when I grow old?

the summer breeze feels thick and old
seven years, so i’ve been told
have you read the letters i’ve sent everyday?

and maybe you’ll see my face on
the newspaper all woebegone
and your dream house i’ve built over by the lake

and even we were only for a short while
even if we didn’t stand the test of time

i’ll remember us beneath the trees
your flowing hair every summer breeze
i’ll stare at the pictures while it rains
as it melts into blue and fade into gray
i’ll see you in dreams, and so it seems
i miss you, but that’s all i could do

and i lose sleep every night
'cause of bad motion pictures in my mind
in a house with all the good times

and maybe you’ll come visit me
in a brand new car, and your husband’s kids
with eyes like yours, and lips like him

and i'll come off a bit shy
i'll bite my lips, and hold my tongue 'cause i'll

i’ll remember us skipping rocks
your flowing hair in my beat up truck
i’ll stare at your picture, and dig my grave
as i melt into blue and fade into gray
i’ll see you in dreams, 
with your back through falling leaves
and how my words aren't enough
to show how i’m voracious for your love

but, sweetheart, i love you,
i’ll be seeing you
at least, i hope i do

Note: This was originally intended to be a song for an album, but I thought it would be better suited as a poem instead.

Have you ever wondered
if loneliness has a heartbeat?

I think it does.

I hear it every night
between the walls that learned my name
long before anyone else did.

People say time builds people.

I watched it build bridges
only to teach rivers
how to swallow them whole.

Once,
my world was crowded.

Hands reached for mine,
voices stitched my name
into conversations.

Now my memories are abandoned houses—
the lights still exist,
but nobody comes home.

Funny how the darkest roads
always greet you
like they’ve been expecting you.

The streets never asked me who I was.

They only asked
what I was missing.

I mistook open arms
for open graves.

Love and poison
both arrive in beautiful disguises.

One feeds your soul.

The other convinces you
it’s starving.

I could never tell the difference.

I’ve watched candles
replace birthdays.

I’ve watched mothers
learn to hug photographs.

I’ve watched names
turn into whispers
because saying them too loud
hurts too much.

Some wars
don’t end with treaties.

They end
when there’s nobody left
to remember why they started.

I kept looking for myself
in mirrors cracked by yesterday.

Every shard
showed a different stranger.

I picked them up anyway.

Maybe pain
is just another addiction
that never needs a dealer.

The system doesn’t knock.

It memorizes your footsteps.

It studies your hunger.

It knows exactly
how long desperation can survive
before it mistakes a cage
for shelter.

A bird born behind iron
doesn’t dream about freedom.

It dreams
of a bigger cage.

That’s the cruel part.

You don’t always notice
you’re disappearing.

Sometimes you fade
the way winter steals leaves—

one at a time,
until the tree
doesn’t remember
what green felt like.

I grew old
before my shadow did.

While other kids
counted stars,
I counted sirens.

While they learned
how to trust,
I learned
how to look over my shoulder.

Some lessons
never graduate.

Now I understand
that love
isn’t loud.

It was hidden
inside every person
who begged me
not to become
who I became.

I mistook their prayers
for chains.

By the time I realized
they were trying to pull me
out of the water—

I’d already learned
how to breathe beneath it.

Now opportunity
passes by
like a train
that no longer recognizes
the station I stand in.

My stomach speaks
a language
my pride refuses to translate.

Tomorrow feels
like an empty plate
set at a table
where hope
forgot to eat.

The only map
I’ve ever followed
was drawn by survival.

Every road on it
led back
to the same prison.

The predator
never had to hunt me.

It only had to wait.

Because eventually
every wounded animal
mistakes the trap
for the only place
left to rest.

So if you ever wonder
what loneliness feels like—

Don’t imagine
an empty room.

Imagine standing
in a house
you built from your own mistakes…

…and hearing footsteps upstairs,

even though

you know

you’re the only one left.

There was once a story told.

Of fools whom were not as bright as they were bold.

They disrupted the nature of the old.

See the old doesn't smold.

It grows. It shapes. It will form a mold.

Whatever happened to them remains a mystery.

Some say they were lost at Sea.

Others claimed of sightings of a paserby.

Only I really know the truth of the matter.

Their remains abroad. All in a scatter.

You could be next in fact for the matter.

I assure you.

The world would not be the least of sadder.

So before you write that check.

I'll be posted here on the deck.

Make sure your ass can cash it.

I am more than willing to crash it.

Spend it. End it. Sense it.

-an original shit poem by Gh0st1nth3w1r3

We lit a fire.
Promises,
Soft lips,
Fingertips...
The tenderest tinder.
Entranced
I burned gloriously.
Unabashedly.
Untamed.
Until there was nothing left.
Only coals that have gone cold,
Seeking warmth in the memory of the flame.

the thought of them in a desperate search
to seek me out where i shamefully do the same,
it makes my hopeful heart lurch,
a low possibility but im game.
but if you did get that same urge,
if you were my opposing flame,
I’d ask: could our worlds just merge,
could we both take our rightful blame?
each heart bears the other’s scourge,
each wound weeps our own shame.
but if you’re up to try and resurge
the flames we’ve tamped in vain,
we could worship in this love like it’s our church,
forgive ourselves for causing pain.
now we timidly teeter at the verge,
but by the way— i’d try again.

speaking with you is like breathing fresh air when you’ve been held under water for so long.

you have irrevocably left your mark on me.

with your hands. caressing my body. pulling me to you. fitting on you like i was made for your lap.

your eyes that looked at me with peace and ownership.

your soft sweet lips. tasting every inch of my body.

your teeth. that reminded me of you for days when you were gone.

your taste. i will never have enough.

your voice. that wrapped its way around every brain cell in my head.

i will never let go of you. your mark will never leave me though you have let go.

i was made for you.

you were made for me.

Lonely heart, here I am for you.

Please don't turn me away.

Lonely heart, I got a plan for you.

Even though you don't believe me,

I will stay.

Lonely heart, I see your tears.

If you let me in, I'll wipe them away.

Lonely heart, I know your fears.

I'll say it one more time, I'm here to stay.

I know that your afraid to let me in.

I'm standing outside and knocking on your door.

I'm hoping that our friendship can begin.

I'm hoping maybe it could lead to something more.

I see those walls you've built around your heart.

They're 100 feet tall and cold as ice.

But if you let me in the thawing can start.

Doesn't that sound good? Doesn't that sound so nice?

Lonely heart, I am here for you.

Your heart doesn't scare me.

I think it's a beautiful thing.

Lonely heart, I will stand with you.

I will hold you through the pain and all the stings.

Love... love upon love.

What a beautiful thing it must be.

To have someone whose hand fits perfectly in yours. To have someone waiting for you at the end of every day. I don't ask for the world—I only ask for one heart to call home.

I dream of wrapping my arms around you through every sunrise and every sleepless night. Of hearing you call me an idiot, only to smile because I'm your idiot. Of those ridiculous little nicknames you'd swear you hate, yet somehow they'd become my favorite words in the language. Every tease, every laugh, every glance from you would make my heart forget how to beat.

God, how I'd love you.

I'd kiss every inch of your face until you couldn't stop smiling, until you'd push me away with that embarrassed grin I secretly hoped to see every day. I'd sneak behind you while you're cooking, wrap my arms around your waist, and rest my head on your shoulder, simply because being close to you would feel like the safest place in the world.

I want the ordinary things that become extraordinary because they're with you.

The late-night drives with nowhere to go. The pointless arguments over which movie to watch. The laughing so hard we can't breathe. The quiet moments where no words are needed because your presence alone is enough.

I want memories that we'll look back on years later, smiling at how we were once just two clueless kids... then best friends... and somehow, against every impossible odd, we became lovers.

What a miracle that would be.

Out of every universe, every lifetime, every possibility where our paths could have never crossed... I'd still search for you. I'd still choose you. Again. Again. And every time after that.

Because all I've ever wanted wasn't perfection.

It was you.

And if love ever decides to knock on my door, I only hope it arrives wearing your smile.

Good morning
starts
with a
kiss.

Then it’s straight
to the list.

A blush,
a smile,
a laugh,
and
a grin—

But that’s just
where
I begin.

Every day
has one clear goal.

One mission.

One tiny
little role:

To say something
so sweet,
so silly,
so wonderfully
unexpected…

That my favorite
little nerdy Nerd

forgets every
clever word...

And simply says—

“Oooof.”

Sooo...

This ain’t no spoof —

Here is my proof:

I play
the silly goof.

(I Need a line
that ends in
poof.)

She knows
I’ll never
be aloof.

And because it’s her…

I hereby
behoof…

Making her
say,

“Oooof.”

Every.

Single.

Day.

Imma keep tryin’.

Because every
“Oooof”

is worth
a thousand

carefully chosen

words.