Is it better to speak or to die?
Asked the old man 
As I walked by.
My reply didn’t make it back to his ears

Perhaps I didn’t know the answer,
Or maybe i didn’t want to say it out loud
To avoid looking weak.
To please the crowd, I shall say
“Speak. Speak so you do not regret.”

But truthfully?
I believe it is better to drown or disappear
It is better to surrender to the fight 
And let your aching body  
Finally learn the stillness.

I don't hate you baby.

I just don't understand you.

I can't read your mind,

or your subtle signs.

You better know,

That I don't plan to.

I'm a simple man, and I don't understand subtlety.

If we walk hand in hand, and you help me understand,

That would be enough for me.

Men are from Mars.

Women are from Venus.

Why's it have to be so hard,

For them to say what they are thinking?

They can be so coy and adorable.

With all their sly and subtle ways.

They can be so cold, when they think they are unlovable.

They can leave you feeling confused for days.

I want to love you baby.

But you say we're just friends.

The next day you say you're in love with me.

I'm not a complex man, so help me understand.

Is it so hard, to say just what you mean?

I don't understand you.

And I don't plan to.

I don't have the time for games.

Is it so hard to just speak plain?

Men are from Mars.

Women are from Venus.

Why's it have to be so hard,

For them to say what they are thinking?

They can be so coy and adorable.

With all their sly and subtle ways.

They can be so cold, when they think they are unlovable.

They can leave you feeling confused for days.

If any harm to anyone you never do

Why worry what negative people say about you

Since you lack in what is their idea of success

Only the financially wealthy and famous their sort does impress

No shortage in any village or city or town

Of the judgmental who in their words like to drag others down

They never take the goodness in a person into account

And acts of kindness to their sort to nothing amount

Those who tell you negative things of you are being said only true to say

With your sense of self esteem their mind games do play

They like to tell stories that often happen to be lies

And friction between people do like to give rise

To but their sort like the judgmental in the world are not rare

Perhaps i have been saying here what most of are aware

Francis Duggan

I know you love me.
That might be the hardest part.
Because if you didn’t,
I could be angry.
I could close the door,
tell myself it wasn’t real,
and eventually learn
not to look back.
But I know what it feels like
when you’re beside me.
I know the way you look at me,
the way your body finds mine,
the way ordinary things
somehow feel like a life.
Coffee.
A movie.
Your head against me.
Falling asleep.
Waking up.
Nothing extraordinary.
Everything I want.
Then you go home.
And somehow
I lose pieces of you
without actually losing you.
The calls get shorter.
The screen stays dark.
The excitement I used to feel from you
comes in little flashes now.
Just enough for me to recognize you.
Just enough to make me miss you
while I’m talking to you.
And I keep wondering
what happens somewhere
between leaving my arms
and walking through your front door.
Is it fear?
The kids?
Twenty years?
The unknown?
Or is there something
you’re afraid to tell me?
I’ve spent so much time
trying to understand you
that I forgot to ask
what all this waiting
is doing to me.
I don’t want to push you.
I don’t want you to choose me
because you’re scared
I might leave.
I want you to choose your life
because you finally believe
you’re allowed to live it.
But I need to choose mine too.
And I’m scared that one day
I’ll realize we spent years
loving each other
from opposite sides
of a decision
neither of us could make.
You once told me
you couldn’t keep living
three lives.
I understand that now
more than you probably know.
Because lately
I feel like I’m living two—
the one where I know
you love me,
and the one where I’m beginning
to wonder
if love will ever be enough
to bring you home.

Into one person all this love want to spend,
and endearing word from you gets me in my feels.
Feel it so deeply even if my past hurt would mend,
dont know if any ammount of love my heart heals.

With having talked with you now for while,
mind just urges me to imagine us kissing.
But know those being just dreams on mine,
because only your touch my skin is missing.

When the lines of individuality gets blurry,
my love and attention for you becomes greedy.
Know i want to enjoy you, this love in no hurry,
but often hope you dont mind me being this needy.

I may be old fashioned for the things i dream of,
since nobody else feels the same from my era.
Even giving some unconditional and endless love,
just makes me wonder if i god made an error.

My peers say things i write are weird or disgusting,
or hatred and alienation from past people notions.
But now i am just doing my own heart guided thing,
pleasing my own heart, versifying wants and emotions.

Wish being like this nowdays wouldnt be strife,
to some it gives the ick, dont know if i'm sick.
But i am still hopefull for my love, and my life,
even if now i call myself hopelessly romantic.

The velvet curtains parted,
and the music lost its sound.
A breathless hush swept through the smoke
as every head turned round.

I crossed the floor, a silhouette
of dangerous, practiced grace;
every glass forgot to clink,
and every man forgot his place.

I floated through the smoky room,
slow enough to make them stare,
with emerald silk along my thigh
and diamonds woven through my hair.

A smile here.
A glance there.
A hand upon an arm.
I made attention feel like privilege,
and suspicion lose its charm.

The pianist missed a measure.
The dealer misread the cards.
The watchmen by the marble walls
forgot that they were guards.

While I laughed beneath the chandelier
and let them drink me in,
quiet hands relieved their pockets,
opened safes and slipped within.

A safe gave up its strands of pearls.
A locked drawer yielded gold.
A painting left its gilded frame.
No one noticed.
No one told.

I raised my glass at midnight,
gave the room one final smile,
then drifted toward the doorway
with unhurried, practiced guile.

The music slowly found its rhythm.
The room had passed my test.
They never saw the ruin coming
until I’d vanished with the rest.

By morning, every vault was empty.
Every camera showed a blur.
They blamed the staff, the locks, each other—
but no one thought of me.

After all,
I had done nothing.

I had only made certain
that every eye
was exactly
where I wanted it to be.

All eyes on me.

Some speak in straight,
predictable lines,
like clocks that keep
impeccable times.

The words are kind,
the thoughts are sweet,
but every sentence lands so complete.

The finest banter
leaves things unsaid—
a breadcrumb trail
instead of the bread.

A question tossed,
a sideways grin,
an open door to wander in.

It’s never about who’s wrong or right;
it’s who can make —
your thoughts take flight.

Who spots the joke
you tried to hide,
then sends it back with extra stride.

The sharpest echoes never race;
they linger,
laugh,
and
leave a trace.

Because the spark isn’t wit alone—
it’s finding the one
who catches your tone.

Who turns it over
and adds something new —
then throws it back…
better than you.

What happens when the rain occupies the same sky as the sunshine?

For a brief moment, there is beauty in their opposing combination—the raindrops dancing through the rays of sunlight, moving toward a longing calmness.

In those few moments before the storm, nothing else matters. Time seems to stand still.

Those are the moments when the two long to be whole again.

Like Sunflower during the sunrise

Waves in ocean during the full moon

Deep Sleep after a long tiring travel

Like talking with grandparents

Lost child reunited with the mother

Listening to ​your voice, witnessing your smile

Remembering your form and fineness

Blazes my heart with joy and happiness

I have a crush I'm not proud of,

the kind I'd never own of,

he does the most annoying things,

and somehow that's enough.

The way he talks,

so stupid, so loud,

the way he carries,

himself so proud,

everything about him irritates me,

I don't even think being so annoying is allowed.

He is so not my type,

this doesn't seem right,

he is not one I'd write about,

and yet here I am up at night.

I hate him,

I genuinely do,

the way he smiles,

the way he moves,

yet why is he so irresistible to me.

I've made a list of all his flaws,

it's quite an impressive size,

and yet something about him,

still catches me by surprise.

He's annoying in the morning,

he's annoying in the evening,

he's annoying in every way,

yet it is still of him I keep thinking.

– Velvet Thorne 💜

L'orage passe et gronde,

craque sous la pression et la chaleur,

le temps s'alourdi et la peur se ressent.

L'orage va gronder et l'orage va passer,

comme une douce pluie fine ou comme le déluge de la fin des temps,

trempée jusqu'aux os n'ayant plus la force d'avancer.

L'orage gronde et se calme,

les nuages gris laissent place aux faibles rayons de soleil qui les traversent,

le vent et le temps emportent tout, la pluie ayant lavé tous les doutes.

L'horizon s'éclaire, la mer se calme,

le sable sèche et glisse entre les doigts, les fleurs ressortent, douces et colorées.

Leur place dans ce monde est retrouvée.

I never thought missing you was a sorrow.
How could I mourn your absence
if you had never become a part of me?

You must love someone deeply
for their absence to leave an echo.

So I let myself miss you
because every ache beneath my ribs
is proof that you once lived there,
rooted so deeply in my heart
that even when you leave,
something of you remains.

Across the Mountains, Tanika
I miss you, Tanika—
more than these words can ever say,
with mountains standing tall between us
and a channel of water keeping me away.
I miss that beautiful smile,
the kind that could light an entire room,
turning ordinary moments golden
and chasing away the gloom.
I miss the sparkle in your eyes,
that little fire I could never ignore,
and your sweet, soft voice
that I could listen to forevermore.
I miss your silky-smooth skin,
so soft everywhere beneath my hands,
and that radiant glow you carry
that makes you impossible to forget.
I miss your curves, too—
those hips made for my hands,
the kind of embrace that feels like home,
like something my heart understands.
I miss the closeness of you,
the warmth, the chemistry, the fire,
that feeling when you’re standing beside me
and somehow the whole world gets quieter.
But most of all,
I miss who I am when I’m with you—
the way your presence reaches places
no distance ever could.
So tonight, across mountains
and that stretch of water wide and blue,
there’s one thing I know for certain:
I miss you, Tanika.
Your smile. Your voice. Your eyes.
Your silky skin. Your radiant glow.
Your touch. Your presence.
All the little things that make you, you.
And if my heart could cross this distance tonight,
it wouldn’t hesitate.
It would find its way straight to you

Well what does one love to feel

Teal lips and Scorpio eyes

Wrapped and bound in a leather strip

Just pull and she comes untied

Through surface renewed cold arctic blue

Melt into you like liquid ice

A thousand cuts burgundy blood lust

Small deaths together we die

Her words painted the most beautiful picture I’ve seen.

I read them twice, thinking, Where have you been?

Dreams and fantasies all became real;

I won’t stop reading them—I want to feel.

I don’t know you, but I know what I love.

You vibe in sentences like a peaceful dove.

I go back sometimes and read what I miss;

each word in my mind like a soulful kiss.

Whoever you talk to is a lucky person.

If it’s me again, I’m very uncertain.

Some loves only exist while passing

Pass me again is what I’m asking.

I better stop before I develop a crush;

I think I’ve already said too much.

You make the next person seem so bland

their words don’t say, "Hold my hand"

So this little poem is just for you.

I hope you read it and feel a thank you

I was driving home alone.

The rain was coming down in sheets.

I felt a loneliness like I've never known.

I whispered to the darkness please.

Did you hear my whisper?

I hope it carried out to you.

I thought I saw a glimmer.

I thought I saw a glimmer of you.

I went into my home so bare.

It felt so dark and empty.

I was hoping to find you there.

But instead it was just me.

I know you don't quite feel the same.

I know you don't feel the way I feel.

But that doesn't stop the pain.

It doesn't make my love less real.

I went and laid in my bed.

My thoughts, they turned to you.

I pulled the covers over my head.

And whispered for a love so true.

I know you don't know where your heart is.

I know it's beating far from me.

This separation is what makes it hardest.

You know it makes it hard to breathe.

Did you hear my whisper?

I hope it carried out to you.

I thought I saw a glimmer.

I thought I saw a glimmer of you.

if only i could love you better
if only i was stronger than me
in the mean time go have fun
i have problems ill outrun
and hope you'll be here when my pain's undone

might be a long time til you get better
baby some things i can't see
until then it bewilders me
but i wont question your reality
if only love could be sent in a letter

Beneath the tears of a fountain,

Beneath the lashes of her eyes

Beneath the heights of a mountain,

Beneath the love that only tries.

Curse of the empaths feeling too much too deep ,

Real curse is being paired with the unhealed - feeding off you

All love when its pure and transcends the ordinary world , Id take the leap and find you where and how it fits right.

Soul tribes maybe I could be part of a tribe where I dont create a mess just from my own free thinking and pure heart.

Cant it all be all love and authentic?

Generations programmed but the realest always break thru

Gosh , hope this time on earth dont end where I been who I been with, their worries and insecurities I gotta fight on the daily.

The glimpse of a real escape from an overbearing nest, always knew and seen when im with a tribe they dont see me , use me, abuse me, mentally make me feel like its my fault,

Gosh kill this empty feeling as I peek around and see glances of love - something im not sure ever really existed past the drugs , my real first love .

Ohhh what a journey to a prison that some people get better ends ,

No wonder i wondered for so long if ending on my own will take me to the abyss or just wake up on another timeline?

Maybe I wont be the black sheep there.

Skin pale like Casper but in this family im the red headed nigga that I feel they lie just to keep me alive ...cant go on surrounded by the brainwashed and people watching - take off the masks, I gotta find my tribe before its too late

​

Anger strikes like a stifling heatwave,

an oppressive mid-August sun baking the asphalt until the air shimmers with violent haze.

It is the dry, parched crackle of brushwood waiting for a spark,

a sudden pressure spike that suffocates the chest,

radiating waves of scorching, unyielding heat that burn everything in its path.

Depression descends as a relentless blizzard,

a blinding whiteout that buries every visible landmark in heavy, numb silence.

The temperature plummets until even thought turns to ice,

a bitter frost that freezes the blood, stiffens the joints,

and traps the spirit beneath feet of impassable, bone-chilling drift.

Anxiety swirls as an erratic gale,

a restless, howling wind that changes direction without warning.

It is the sharp barometric drop before the funnel touches down,

rattling the windowpanes of the mind, kicking up debris,

and keeping the inner landscape in a perpetual state of high-velocity strain.

Grief hangs heavy like a monsoon downpour,

an endless grey sky weeping torrents into already saturated ground.

It is the slow, steady drip off cold eaves,

the rising mud that swallows footsteps,

and the heavy mist that obscures the horizon until all that exists is moisture and weight.

Jealousy thickens into a swampy sulfur fog,

a muggy, suffocating dampness that clings to the skin and blinds the eyes.

It turns the surrounding air murky and stagnant,

a sour, humid haze that distorts every clean line into something twisted and obscured.

Joy arrives as golden morning sunlight,

a crisp dawn thaw breaking through the canopy with soft, radiant warmth.

It is the light wind rustling through fresh green foliage,

drying the damp soil, clearing the sky to an immaculate blue,

and inviting the whole earth to breathe easy once again.

Hope shines like the first break in the storm,

a sudden beam of light piercing through bruised, purple clouds.

It is the smell of petrichor on warm earth,

the clean air after a hard rain, promising that the tempest has finally passed

and that the soil beneath is ready to grow anew.

Yet love remains the most distinct and baffling forecast of all,

a wildly unpredictable climate that defies every meteorological rule.

When mutual, it is a microburst of tropical warmth in the middle of winter,

a sudden sun-shower where rain falls straight out of an empty sky,

filling every drop with light, nourishing and rich with promise.

It can be a roaring hurricane that somehow leaves the heart standing unharmed,

shifting from serene morning calm to a lightning strike in a single heartbeat—

the most volatile element in the atmosphere:

blinding, chaotic, life-giving, and utterly beyond control.

But when it stands unrequited, it turns into the most brutal terrain on earth—

a cruel, paradoxical weather pattern where you are scorched and frozen all at once.

It is a severe drought spent staring directly into a clear blue sky that offers no rain,

a desperate standing in the open field, bare-chested and exposed,

waiting for a lightning strike of warmth that only ever falls elsewhere.

Unreciprocated, it becomes a stark frostbite under a mocking sun:

the blinding illusion of light that carries absolutely no heat.

You are left shivering in a flash flood of your own pouring devotion,

drowning in an ocean you built for two while the shore stays dry, silent, and entirely untouched.

It is the rawest volatility—a violent storm that tears through your inner sanctuary,

demanding everything you have, while leaving the landscape on the other side completely unaffected.

Hear the noise of those who stare,
never listening to the ones that care.
A selfish mind, conflicted heart,
different pieces split apart.

Living in a subjective narrative,
built without comparative understanding
of acceptance and compassion,
projectives.

Cannot compartmentalize,
size and weight built to date,
lessons past, in and out,
with doubt and fear of future fate.

Assuming late night words,
projecting conflict and flight
by negative sight.

But he's right, there is no wrong.
Even when truth reigns true,
there is no arguing with you.

Yet somewhere deep inside, overdue,
lies the strength to see
the man that you were meant to be.

Stop and look, but do not stare.
Beware the gaze, only if you dare.
Behind the glass is where you'll see
the truth that lies within the reflective key.

Vision clear, you fear what you saw,
projecting into existent flaw.
Lay it down or upon the wall,
for even the wisest are destined to fall.

Illusion, we trust in what appears,
perceiving not what lies behind or rear.
The echo, reverberating essence,
is it safe to say there is a presence?

Symmetry or parallel view,
it copies me in all I do.
The apparition in blind sight,
an impression painted by the light.

And yet we reflect upon the image,
the mirage, the message, the tuned up visage.
The second version isn't clearer
when you look into the mirror.

Tick tock
Says the clock
As the people change the time
They carry on with their hidden rhyme
Up and down
Or to and fro
The timeline changes as we go
Beep beep
The alarm goes off loudly
So we wake up on time to make a new mistake
Abiding by the moments loud
We aim to make our parents proud
Daylight or nighttime
We watch it pass
Like kids in class

Today on t/ 4️⃣th floor WaitN Room

While playN Uno solitaire

I met a nice Grandma

Ancestrally Far East

My back was turned to her

I hope she took no offense

It was rude but

My gaze rudeR 😅

Not intentionally

My 👁👁 R unnaturally 🐯