I remember 

when I hurt myself and my hand was aching 

my friend told me 
he’ll hit me in the leg so I don’t feel the pain in my hand 
I believed him, we all believed him 
that’s why we heal pain with more pain 
blending chameleon-like into the background
our addiction camouflaged against each other's
counsciosly distroying ourselves 
we normalised drugs that kill

the universe is pregnant with
such a miraculous species but
we race to slow our hearts
lies
drinks
games
sex
pufs
lines
what's wrong with us?

​

we sculpt sentences, sentenced 
to paint nothingness, nakedness 
meaningless blackholes, 
air bended, collided sounds, stressed syllables gliding 
from lungs to throat 
to voice the surrender of butterflies 
the feeling of lost time, lost you -
the poet cry, 
the unsaid truth.