The algorithm doesn‘t care
About the old, the new
All it cares is
If you push through

Endurance endures me
Repetition of the timeless
Old and new
So let me push through

I said it a thousand times
I want my paradise

I am rot and decay,
Every day all the same.
When last I felt sane,
I cannot proclaim.

What’s left of my mind,
All is in disarray.
A jumbled confusion
Where once was beautiful music.

A soul lacking passion,
Drab, wasteful, repetitive actions.
Regrets are a mansion,
Hope far fled, fragile features fractured

Action, inaction, dissatisfaction, distractions.
Stagnation, self hatred, silent mutilating flagellation.
A barren abyss chasing everlasting bliss.
Future once blinding, now endlessly winding.

Concrete below, craving above.
Time slowly slipping, slugging along.
Wistful glances, dreaming morningstar dances.
Light and despair, two feelings shared.

Double infraction, one foot in the casket.
Left outwaiting that which I cannot abandon.
Sympathy for souls not of my own.
Suffering must not be begotten alone.

I’m not sure how much strength
I have.
I guess I’ll find out.
I can feel myself growing older by the minute.
All it would take is for someone to throw water on me
and I’d melt like the wicked witch.
I’m blindsided by my sadness
I’m sandbagged by my tears
I sandwich my serenity
between slices of misery
and smears
of grief

Encapsulated by flowers of my mind;

Roses, tulips, daises alike

The sun shines against their small spines

I water them from time to time-

When I remember, or sometimes a bit too much

Getting excessive with care and pellets of feed

How my garden grows.

I watch it all blossom, from steps to buds

And when it storms I do my best to cover them up.

Wrapping each individual blessing in the vineyard along a rod for structure,

Analyzing soil that others classify as simple dirt.

So pure, i am, with them

Even if the seeds root in negative intention

And so it grows, the garden in my head

Sometimes of bliss, some days of misery

the constancy of beauty in small things.

I will always love you, my flowers.

You can tell by the way she walks that she's my girl
You can tell by the way she talks, she rules the world
You can see in her eyes, then, oh, I miss her change
She's my girl, my super girl

And then she said, "It's okay, I got lost on the way
But I'm a supergirl, and supergirls don't cry" And then she say, "It's alright, I got home late last night
But I'm a supergirl, and supergirls just fly"

And then she says, and nothing can go wrong When you're in love, what can go wrong?
Then she laugh, the night turned into day But she never fears the other room

And then she said, "It′s okay, I got lost on the way
But I'm a supergirl, and supergirls don′t cry"
And then she said, "It's alright, I got home late last night
But I′m a supergirl, and supergirls just fly"

But I'm a supergirl, a supergirl
Then she saw and sees this barren tree
Then she saw and sees this barren tree
Yes, she's a super girl

She′s a super girl

Finally, Finally I Got There!❣️

I can give you unconditional understanding

I can give you unconditional forgiveness

I can give you unconditional love

But I cannot give you unconditional access to my life

I can understand you and I can still leave

I can forgive you and I can still leave

I can love you and I can still leave

Finally…

Finally I got there…

I matter too!

- L. B. NEWALLME

She's born in June and he's born in December

A tale that'll be chanted for ages was written by a lost man

Written by the man who never met November

It was me and him when he was counting his last breath

He told me to burn this poem into ashes after his death

There was a red flower I once saw from my windowsill

I knew she was my Autumn, so I reopened the same page

Which had the smell of smoke

lines I've never read before

I never let his immortal kiss the grains of sand

I wrote a line which made me a poet of his kind which was unplanned

Rain

Oh rain

Don't you cry when monsoon is gone

Beautiful things are never meant to stay forever

I cry

I must

Sweetheart

I cannot abandon the love of my life

He taught me how to love

How to live

How to fall

How to feel

Our emotions have been expressed from centuries

Does that mean we will always meet again?

If there's a thing called reincarnation, then let me be your every single time

There will come a day
Fluorescent light, sterile smell,
draped in a film gown,

I am rushed to your side
to hold your hand,
to whisper assurance,
to take the abuse.

While people in scrubs
seek a vein of good fortune,
while you spit and shout and swear,
pleading for a reprieve
when none can be found,
as the IV line pushes
you off to somewhere else.

The flailing gives way
and your eyes fix
in awe of something
behind my head.

And I realise
there will come a day
when I am no longer here
to hold your hand.

And it terrifies me.

What's the point?

Poem by Emilia Sameyn Desmet

16/10/2026

What is the point?
A dot?
A Circle?
An endless cycle?

Einsof

All was one dot, then the big bang
One electron forms a wave

Family tree becomes one human

Hedera Helix

Hydra Hell

I wonder why?

Sleep, Wake up, Work

Trying to get by

We clean to get dirty

What a pity

What’s the point?

What’s the point?

The devastation
In my conscious
Truly begs
The question
If anything left of me
Is good.
Or is it all rewritten
As tragedy
Longing patiently
For a happy ending;
A quiet eye
Admist the storm.

dh

maybe you’ll see me
maybe you won’t
maybe you’ll hear me
maybe you don’t

maybe i’m breaking
maybe i’m not
maybe i’m falling
maybe a lot

maybe you love me
maybe you don’t
maybe you’ll change
maybe you won’t

maybe i see you
maybe i’m blind
maybe you’re different
maybe that’s fine

maybe we’re pushing
maybe too far
maybe we’re pulling
maybe apart

maybe i’m guessing
maybe it’s true
maybe i’m here
maybe i’m through

I was supposed to be in love with you

I think

I don't know when

I don't know how

But truth is what is left

after the flesh is off the bone

in the silt and tide and earth compounds

and it seems so clear here

at the end

It was supposed to be you.

Sometimes we miss,

but this time,

it was meant.

You cultivate a Barren Plot
If a flower had been there,
You’d have heard it scream
Or you’d have seen it
Because everyone knows what a flower is
How covered, how colored, how loud
How obvious

You bury the Seed in that Barren Plot
If a flower had lived there,
It shouldn’t have been
Or maybe it should’ve been more hardy
Like a root or a tree
Or maybe it should’ve been a flower
With a nicer smell
Or a louder scream
And maybe then you wouldn’t have
Let it wilt
Back into the dirt she didn’t deserve
You ask her why the soil rots
While you lie in it
Up on that Hill
And just maybe those signs from the sun
Mean you are safe from flood

In that Barren Plot
Until another’s hands find you
When you lose your cover, color, size, and smell
Wondering how you fooled yourself
But never the rain that will always come

D
O
W
N

And once again,
The growth is washed
The Plot remains Barren
You try to scream
Now it is you
Who’s wilting

She moves as a melody with a sweet song in her step
Has a thirst for knowledge that knows no depth
An inquisitive eye, undeniably fly
She takes little effort to dress up and impress

Loud and flashy attire becomes polished and refined
Not a hair out of place with it’s lovely golden shine
A voice that is lyrical, never harsh or irritable
She stays stable and steady through any version of time

Hear her velvety laughter ripple through the air
Reflect on the wisdom she dispenses with care
In prose bespoke with simple elegance
A softened stroke of linguistic eloquence
Her words are your cure for dread and despair

Gifted is she with magnetic wit and charming grace
An eclectic spirit befit in a warm and pretty face
Citing poetry to move you, using logic to disprove you
Showing you why philosophy cannot be tied
To certain religious rights or race

Can this perfect persona truly be real?
Or is she a crafted ideal with no definite form
Living as an image protected from scorn
She hides behind the inner corners of the mind
Where change must take shape before action is born

So when I catch a glimpse in the mirror
It is only me who I see
Missing is that girl I know I’ll never be

Mine is the midnight ride of Paul Revere by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow because of the length of it

If it's only living and dying,

That nothing comes close to holy.

Would you make it homely?

Make space even for crying?

It's not so grey and dull,

Maybe the eyes are just adjusting.

Don't let definitions put you into a lull,

Let it flow into your own making.

So,

Is it truly only?

Maybe,

And that maybe can be yours duly.

Everything was present here
Except for my true being
I hid behind this fear
Of things within me
That were not worth seeing.

I have shovelled long enough
Forgot to smooth the soil out
It was looking quite rough
I thought I could rest here
But these feelings would return
Where it suggests
I have not done enough.

Force-fed this forbidden fruit
Then treated as if I was the root
As if I was Adam, I have sinned
Then, sinner, I was,
And pretty thick-skinned. 

I have been hurt by society
Hurt by them, hurt by you
So I thought I would hurt others too. 

Under this mask I would wear
I would show them that I care
Say the right things in their ear
Suddenly it all felt so loving and dear
Once the psychoanalysis was done
I got bored, and I would run
I have broken so many hearts
For no reason but fun.

I had no desire for sensual feelings
My dealings were only with the mind
To understand you and to chisel my craft
For me, they were my art
I would decipher the strokes
When it all became apparent
It would become apparent to them
That it was all a hoax. 

Why was I like this?
Why have I hurt so many?
Because my pain sent me
In return for my atrocities
I have had nightmares, plenty.

For weeks, these nightmares haunted me
They seemed so surprisingly real
Gosh, it became a big deal!

A montage of faces angry at me
Tears, shrieks, and pain
Now I was there for them to see
This is not who I want to be!

So I went out to seek mercy
Stirred quite a controversy
I wanted to repair everything wrong
Yet this darkness is deep and spans so long.

Oh no, what have I done?
What have I done?
Broken hearts, and I’ve broken someone
Yes, I have done terrible things
But do they know what was done to me? 

You could never understand nor see
The same way I can see through you
One look and it’s as if I knew you.

I care deeply, and I feel a lot
Do not get me wrong
But there is something attractive
About this beautiful song
I want to introduce to your lives
In return for the happiest days
That I invented for your eyes
I will take away one of your nights.

But I stay away; I tuck it under my chin
I control myself from the sin
I try to help when I can
Because I can see you
Oh, how deep I understand.

You wouldn’t see it coming
So skilful, my sleight of hand,
Though there is no god for me
I wish one upon you if you ever enter
The depths of the fire in my holy land.

If you could see inside my mind,
the places that we go,
the little dreams I have of us
and things you'll never know.

I'd pull you close and kiss your lips,
and hold you for a while,
I'd whisper all the things I feel
and melt beneath your smile.

I'd spend my mornings next to you,
my evenings in your arms,
and fall asleep beside you,
so safe and loved and warm.

And sometimes when I close my eyes,
I almost feel you near,
close enough to make me smile,
then wish that you were here.

But until dreams become our days,
and all our wishes come true,
I'll keep on dreaming every night
of waking up with you.

A tickled sacrum stirs the reaper

As troubadours strings weep widowed secrets

Here hunger is a tameless beast that fears not death and never sleeps

Shoot no arrow into darkness
Lest you bare yourself upon in starkness

Then winters bite steams a
piping kettle

While the sheets stay warm between the threshold

There’s no escaping one’s own nature

a fate endowed scribed nomenclature

Fools in love dropped defenses surrendering sovereign inhibitions

Companion planting with tantric handling overgrowth begins dismantling shedding skin a new supplanting shedding antlers anew descanting

Howl into the silver solace of a bygone truth
admonished

Changes tumble down into the mystic life you thought it

A deep inhale is a loaded gun
Drop the vail
And lift the sails
As you go walking into the sun

Being a fool is a bliss

Words won't hurt you,

And the truth is worthless,

Because you are a fool.

Being a fool is a blessing

You don't need to face the cruel reality.

Their stares will mean nothing.

Their laugh will be just a laugh.

Being a fool takes courage

To forget everything and pretend.

Pretending to be a fool is to be happy.

Life would be easy if you know nothing.

I wanted to be a fool,

But I can't.

I can't un-know.

I can't eat everything and anything.

But I want to be a fool so it won't hurt anymore.

There is not point
In curving
The shape of you.
The way your glasses tilt,
As the perfect imagery would fail.

If you are a light,
Pass through me at a glance.
It is shy.
Under the broad daylight,
Refractions were made right.

And I am ready,
For becoming your readiness.
Just hum a word out,
Until the roses in the window smile.

Liberated from life’s constraints
without grievances
resentments
or complaints,
afloat
on a single note
high
melodious
and sweet
present
whole
and complete

I knew the sun would burn me.

I knew the wings would fail.

I knew that every beautiful thing

comes with the chance of hell.

But God, the sky was endless.

And God, the view was worth it.

For a moment, I was weightless.

For a moment, I was perfect.

I could have stayed upon the ground,

kept my feet where they belonged.

Lived a life that kept me safe,

never right, but never wrong.

But I had seen what waited there.

I'd felt the wind against my skin.

And if the price of touching heaven

was the fall that followed it

Then let me fall.

Let the ocean take me.

Let the feathers scatter wide.

Let the world say I was foolish

for believing I could fly.

At least I wasn't watching

from the safety of the shore.

I don't know you yet.

I don't know where you are, likely at home.

I don't know what you do, likely lie in bed.

And I don't know what you think right now.

I wish I would.

I wish I would know where to look for you.

I wish I knew what you'd like, what you aspire, what makes you smile.

I wish I could find you and tell your we are meant to be.

But I can't.

You're somewhere out there.

You have to be....

Cuz if you aren't this emptiness inside me will never disappear.

It will always pull on me to find you.

It will always remind me that it's there.

Cuz this emptiness fells like there's a piece out there matching it.

This emptiness, I feel it everywhere.

In my hands at night,

when they both feel like they're missing their counterpart.

When they get cold from my open window

and it just feels they're supposed to be wrapped up in someone else's hands right now.

On my waist whenever I come to a stop,

when it feels like a pair of arms should exist out there that match their curve.

When I cook and the idea of being hugged from behind feels so right

I can almost feel it. Just almost.

Anytime I lie down to rest and theres space.

Anytime I go visit my parents and drive alone.

Anytime I achieve something and I wish I had someone to make proud with it.

Anytime I wish It wasn't just me out here.

I wish I could find you.

To share with you.

To dedicate my every step to making you smile.

Because even though I don't know you yet, I am sure it will be all I need.

I'm sure you will be all I need.

Your smile.

I bet it's beautiful and pure.

I bet once I see it, I'll never need any other reward in my life.

It must be. Because I will love you, with all my being.

Your eyes.

I am certain they are a sight to get lost in.

I am certain once I see them, I will fall for you.

I will love them, because they are a part of you.

Your passions.

I know we won't have the same and that's good.

I want to hear you talk about them, explain things to me and get lost in your own thoughts.

Because I will be able to see how happy they make you.

I just wish you were here so bad right now.

Looking over my shoulder, smiling and commenting on this:

"Why you writing this... You already got me!"

How I wish you'd say that right now.

How I wish you would meet me tomorrow.

How I wish we could write our own story.

How I wish I could cherish you.

How I wish I could hold you.

I don't know you yet and maybe that's what scares me the most about this.

You might be out there. But maybe you aren't.

Maybe I am not meant to fill this emptiness.

Maybe I'll never get to know you.

Context:

I wrote this like an hour ago, nothing too deep just wanted to let out that feeling of longing and felt like sharing it. Never uploaded a poem so I hope you enjoy.

The human mind is a fungus. Our ideas are the spores of the self, and our words carry them into the world like the wind.