Hardcover Or Paperback? Bookstore Or Library? Bookmark Or Receipt? Stand Alone Or Series? Nonfiction

“Human beings can withstand a week without water, two weeks without food, many years of homelessness, but not loneliness. It is the worst of all tortures, the worst of all sufferings.”

— Paulo Coelho

Been a while to be back being low

But it never surprises that I’d be over this soon.

At a point where everyone feels distant

And those who’d feel close never really are.

Turned my view to where everybody is like everybody.

But times like this are better, when I want myself for me not for anyone else,

To only worry about myself and care for myself,

Everything and everyone is an eyesore.

Wish if I could erase all these and not just run away from it

I don’t want to run nor escape

But just be omnipotent and rip away the fabrics of life that’s attached to me.

Kindly hear me !!

Not anyone but the entire entity that binds me with this phantom of a life.

And if it rather be, I’d stay in this ignorance

And heavy it is to hear but in eternity.

I close my eyes and all I see is you,

Thoughts arise but they all lead to you.

What has become of me? I cannot know

Im caught in your pull, wherever i go.

So I breathe the air but it’s scented with you,

Words form, but they whisper of you.

You’ve taken me entirely

It must be not, surely!

If this is a dream, then let me dream on

Cause you’ve take a piece,I no longer own

Now I find myself drifting in an ocean of you

But if I’m adrift, only to be lost,

Then I’d rather be lost in you, no matter the cost.

What man may say of me

Will I not let it bother me

Nay that I be perfect

But have more to grow as a fact

Yet, if what you say is true my friend

Then all I have is to give you my thanks

And consider your words in being no less

Shall I not marvel if the world hate me

But be with pity, that all you have is malice for me.

- iron bard

Revisiting and old poetry

Take me back 🏞️

Some words, some promises—

that’s all it took to bring me here.

And here I am, revisiting my pain,

as if searching for a reason to heal.

My words aren’t meant to blame,

nor to trace the fault back to you.

They exist simply to reflect

the state of my being.

For I feel violated—

not in body, but in spirit,

as if my emotions were currency,

spent without care, discarded without thought.

Hope dangled before me, only to be pulled away,

leaving behind nothing but despair.

And my heart?

It does not sink into my chest,

but into a pit—who knows how deep?

I do myself no justice,

for I feel no rage, no fire of indignation.

Only weariness,

the kind that settles in the bones.

Tonight, another sleepless night awaits me.

And if I see you smile,

I will wonder—

are you truly happy, or is it just a mask?

I wish grief upon no soul,

least of all for my sake,

but still, I’m left to wonder—

does your conscience sit in silence,

or does it whisper to you in the dark?

Regardless…

I know myself.

If I were to see you again,

disarray would follow me like a shadow.

My mind would tell me you’re beautiful,

but the eyes of my heart have seen you—

and it is terrifying.

Hide not the calamity that resides in you,

And hide not the dark.

Your weary eyes,

Withered fingers,

Forsaken heart—

Hide them not.

A good looking sky there!

My gaze is contagious

foreign and lethal.

My stare—engulfing,

Swallowing your eyes whole.

Tenacious, leaping bounds,

Setting your eyes ablaze.

It won’t stop until your eyes burn red,

Until they’re flooded I say.

For my stare—a plague.

You won’t be the only victim.

And my sight—infectious…

You’d too be guilty.

(So ask what it is…)

Pink eye—conjunctivitis.

A random conversation about having conjunctivitis led me to this💀