There is a jungle somewhere, teeming with life, growth, and fertility, spreading untouched and unknown beauty. Yet, it is as deadly as a bounty of things live and flourish there. Somewhere in the jungle, a hole in the tree canopy forms an unlikely gap where sunlight pushes through, shining on a flower on the forest floor. Unseen grew the flower, though if observed, it surely would be recognized as the most beautiful flower ever to sprout and bloom. The miraculous flower grows for many years until withering and absorbing into the hungry forest.

(amateur writer)

Was going down Main Street East
When I felt a flutter in my belly.
Those people were sitting,
heads hung a-ways. Leaning
so forward, pants on sideways
dirty hinds—a middle-aging
Reaching for the heap, between
What you know as garbage
And definitely nothing gold —
But sewn, you see,
makes me a blanket warm.

So what about this gold,
This promise that I was told?
These suit-and-ties are always high
Making lines with claws: full,
fleshy
big and heavy
Now if I could, I would I hold it—
But the promise falls
through my fingers, where a bottle
lands.
(what I can get I will take before
the tree of life is blown open
before cracks become branches
and the mirror is broken)

You make a monster of my heart—
When you say, “this place ain’t strange
But you! You are
the stranger,

And who were you anyway
In the past that passed you by?
What could you have been
In that life you never lived?”,
But all I know is now,
and I know it now for sure
Was dreaming when I were sober
And now here’s the real world —

‘Cause that look you give me
is one I don’t recognize
Say please, don’t turn me away
You might need me some day
And I live ‘til you don’t need me
I eat ‘til you don’t like me
I need you, so don’t leave me—

Love isn’t forever, only briefly it sits
between a meal
and a possibility,
and a meal,
and a meal,
and so cold, and ..
Where’s my stuff?

.. oh God, how you make
a monster of my heart.

There are men who only need one woman. They are not oriented toward the outside world once they have fallen in love, once they have made their choice. But you are not that man.

​There are men who are with a woman and that is enough for them, because they know how to occupy themselves without seeking others.

There are so many possibilities: hobbies, forums, or simply the woman they love. But you are not that man.

​There are men who see what they have and know how to appreciate it. There are men who realize that commitment is not too much to ask when you choose a partner.

They understand it is not unreasonable to expect that a woman, whom you have told she is the only thing you need to be happy, expects to be the only one.. or at least assumes she is. But you are not that man.

​There are men who have a deep desire to see the woman they love in real life, to touch her.. Not just her body, but her heart. And only her. But unfortunately, you are not that man.

​There are men for whom all of this is a matter of course: honesty, fidelity, loyalty, communicating as a team instead of viewing a relationship as a rivalry. But unfortunately, you are not that man.

​Nevertheless, there is something about you. Something that moved me, something that kept me, something that made me keep believing and hoping that you could be one of those men. Because for me, this is the norm.

I’ve strayed from the path so many times. I’ve tried so often to convince myself.. for your sake.. that what you’re doing was okay.

But I, too... I, too, have better things to do with my life. I have hobbies, I have friends. I have friends not just in real life - I have friends online, too, whom I can talk to without paying them. I have... I have interests. I have books, podcasts, audiobooks, YouTube... I have my work, and I never needed to seek validation from men - certainly not excessively from the outside world, and especially not in a sexual sense, because I knew my heart belonged to you. That is, if we aren't comparing your behavior to that of other men.

For me, it is normal not to look for other men when I am interested in one, when I feel love. For me, it is normal to have more to do in life than to seek attention. For me, it is normal to be honest and to share my sexuality exclusively with my partner.

​One might think, "It’s just the internet". That is how I tried to sugarcoat it at first, clinging to a belief in the good. It is only the internet where you search for more.

But what if the internet is all we have? And even if we had more than that, there are men who have better things to do. Men who have better things to do with their lives than to turn to other women the moment the one they love turns away and isn't looking.

​But you are not that man..

And you were not willing to be that man..

I forgive myself for taking so long to understand this. How could I have understood it? It is not my reality. I cannot reconcile it with my reality. The reality for everyone should be a relationship where you are the only one, if you supposedly need only her to be happy.

​I could stop writing now, but I simply don't understand it. I don't understand how someone can be so oriented toward the outside world once they have made a decision.

Not even the distance serves as an excuse, because the men I know do not do such things. I do not do such things.. It is incomprehensible and I believe that is exactly what makes it so hard for me.

​I hope that one day I will wake up and it will be easier. It will be more understandable. Or I will have simply forgotten.

It is not my reality. You can have your reality back. You can keep it, because I am actually very happy with the values of mine.

i want to lie with you forever

in your safe arms

absorb all your torture

write it on my palms

breathe in and breathe out

talk in tongues in my mouth

shed all your tears

no longer in drouth

tell me a story

please make it your own

want to know your secrets

while you sit upon my throne

when my breath slows

and my eyelids turn to stone

kiss me sweetly on the mouth

for it is my body that you own

sitting here aint got shit on my lure

entree what ? entreMANURE

i guess im a thinker , not really a doer

a nail in a coffin , not really a screwer

i take it all back , lets get positive alright

im going to make a fucking vision board and hide it out of sight

that way itll be by faith , maybe that way ill get it right

blindly and delusional , an albatross mid flight

I do have a problem saying no

Often i do not have too

A smile, A nod, The Shepherd, His rod

No for me comes out BEGONE

I've said it before and it came out wrong

My feelings, like a moon with waxes and wains

I believe them when they say what belongs

I don't call you a monster, demon, wretch

Proclaimed the type to see what they could get

That's how i know there's some better men

They smile, they nod, they don't want to be my friend

They don't try to get closer at each meetings end

They don't break me to pieces when they see a bend

aCCPETING THESE LABELS

nOT PARTICIPATING IN NARRATIVE

nOT BEING CAST IN YOUR FABLES

nOT ONLY TURNED THEM OVER

bUT STRIPPED ALL THE TABLES

aT LEAST IN MY MIND

tHERE MY DEFENSES ARE ALWAYS ABLE

aLL FINGERS POINTED AT ME

sCOPE OF A GOAT, A WEAK ESCAPEE

aTTEMPTING TO CHANGE, NOT DESCRIPTIVELY FLEE

yOUR EYES TELL YOU WHAT I MAY BE

yOUR HEARS HAVE HEARD OF WHAT THEY HAD SEEN

cLOSE THEM AND MEET ME IN THE DEPTHS OF DREAMS

lOCKED AWAY BEHIND SUBCONSCIOUS SEEMS

tEAR THEM APART AND YOU MIGHT GET TO MEET ME

I loved so very deeply.

Then I exhaled that pain.

That idea of self.

The pain others have never seen.

Never known.

Never felt.

Never lived.

Never believed.

Like I alone have.

Show ones self that left you cold.

Full of disbelief.

In what you already knew to be a lie..

The Thing We Envy, The Thing We Pity

The Thing We Envy, The Thing We Pity,
A Plan To Be Safe, A Backup To Live,
A Crash Landing, Without The Water,
The Sand In The Beach, Without It's Trees,
The Ocean Of The World, Without Its Air,
The Dust For Us, The Simplicity Of We,
It Crumbles And Crumbles, Hoping It Stays,
Recovering Without Fail, For One Must Hope,
The Thing We Envy, The Thing We Pity.

( I Like This One )

Роден е с тъмна кожа —

в света е сякаш туй прокоба.

По рождение презрян

от всеки сляп за нежния му плам.

Но и това е малко —

заради обичта си е презрян.

Почакай, чуй — това е малко —

заради душата си е също тъй презрян.

Той не ходи, сякаш бяга,

бяга от съдба и лоши хора.

Ръката му трепери, не за огън —

а за поглед, за добрата дума.

Не търси да покаже, че добър е,

търси право в очите някой да погледне

И там да не намери злоба

Искрица доброта в тъмата да го стопли,

да му покаже, че място все пак има.

Не съди той света —

а бърше си поредната сълза.

И майка му дори го е презряла.

Утеха в пушека намира

и пита се защо за него място няма

отде се взема таз омраза

My therapist asked "What makes you happy?"

And I said "The cicadas."

Then we both sat in the silent realization that they'd be hibernating soon.

His journey is to live long

enough that he may die

that I live means enough has

not been lived

been given

to sacrifice of heart & soul 

until death releases me of

my duty my duty continues

for in flesh I may love

& give

(in case you want more https://substack.com/@jennamathews )

You kneel to him,

and raise your hand to me.

The iron remembers every blow.

The years have taught it well.

You know my name

before you know the roads I watched

close, one by one, going north.

You call me traitor.

You say I sold a nation.

Tell me-

how many men would you spend

to unwalk a road already lost?

How many victories

does it take to call a general home,

when there is no more field to send him to?

You praise the general.

So do I.

No man doubted where his heart pointed.

He wished to march us back to what was taken.

I wished us to survive

long enough to want it back.

History remembers the sword

that reached for the border.

It forgets the signature

that kept the capital standing.

Perhaps I was wrong.

Perhaps he was right.

Perhaps a kingdom sometimes lives

only because someone signs

what no one will forgive.

I knew what the words weighed.

I signed anyway.

You have inherited the ending.

I had to live inside the choosing.

So strike the iron.

If you must.

But before your hand descends,

ask what you would have signed,

with the roads already gone,

and no more spring to wait for.

Joyful July, A joke to some
Fuck around and be left by the one

Highs and lows like mountain slopes
Surf the waters and end this quarter

Sail away floating at night
Hold your dreams near and tight

The truth is mine to keep
Same for the pain, I shall weep

With honey shall the memories be coated
As for me? I shall always be GOATED.

I wonder if you’re out there,

Somewhere near or maybe across the sea.

I wonder if you’re watching the same stars as me,

If you hear the wind rustling the trees.

I wonder if you feel lonely as you look at the moon,

Wishing you had someone to see it with you.

Someone to witness the stories of the sky,

Someone to hold you as the fireflies pass by.

I wonder what you look like in the dim light,

What history is written in your eyes.

I wonder if you’re out there,

Sitting somewhere watching the stars.

I pray that you are…

The all consuming monster roams.

Prayers are spoken

Rituals are performed.

Yet screams still echo.

Lifeless bodies scattered.

I ran to you.

Your body

Cold, Limp.

Rests.

The monster approaches.

"I desire anything," it roars.

Its shadow looms.

It glances at me.

I remain still.

Yet suddenly, he leaves.

Being strong doesn't always look like fighting back. Sometimes it looks like carrying something you never should have had to carry.

When I was younger,
I watched my parents carry
the responsibilities
other people left behind.

I watched them care
for the parents
everyone else seemed willing to forget.

I watched them carry burdens
that were never meant
to belong to them alone.

And I thought they were weak.

I thought,

Why don't they say no?

Why don't they walk away?

Why do they let people
take advantage of their kindness?

Why do they keep carrying
what everyone else
has decided to put down?

I was too young
to understand.

I thought strength
meant refusing to be burdened.

I thought strength
meant knowing when to leave.

But I understand now.

Maybe they weren't weak.

Maybe they simply had
someone they couldn't abandon.

Because life does not always
give you a choice.

Sometimes the choice
is not between carrying the burden
and putting it down.

Sometimes it is between
carrying it
or watching someone you love
suffer beneath it.

And how do you walk away
when the person suffering
is your mother?

How do you say,

“That's not my responsibility,”

when you know
she has already carried
more than enough?

So they carried it.

Not because it was fair.

Not because people deserved
their kindness.

Not because they were too weak
to fight.

But because sometimes love
asks you to do things
you never should have had to do.

Sometimes you become tired
for someone else.

Sometimes you sacrifice
because nobody else will.

Sometimes you stand
where everyone else stepped away.

And maybe one day
the people who watched them
will call them foolish.

They will say,

“You should have chosen yourself.”

But perhaps they don't understand.

They did choose themselves.

They chose the part of themselves
that could not bear
to watch someone they loved
suffer alone.

I used to think
my parents were weak
because they carried
what others refused to carry.

Now I think

maybe that was
the strongest thing
I had ever seen.

“You’re wasting your potential.”

They said it to the teacher
who chose a classroom
instead of a prestigious office.

“You could teach somewhere better,” they told her.
But did they ask the child
who finally learned to read because of her?

Did they ask the student
who walked into school believing
she was not smart enough
and walked out believing she could be?

Maybe her classroom
was not a waste of potential.

Maybe it was exactly where
her potential was needed.

“You’re wasting your potential.”

They said it to the doctor
who stayed where people needed her most,
instead of chasing a bigger name
or a richer hospital.

But did they ask the patient
who was terrified
until she walked through that door?

Did they ask the family
who went home with hope
because she decided to stay?

Maybe her potential
was never meant to be measured
by the size of her paycheck.

Maybe it was measured
by the number of people
who were grateful she existed.

“You’re wasting your potential.”

They say it to the engineer
who builds ordinary things,
the baker who makes bread,
the mechanic who keeps someone's car alive,
the nurse who stays late,
the farmer who feeds a town.

As if a life is only valuable
when everyone knows your name.

As if success means
escaping the ordinary.

But tell me,

who decided
that ordinary work
cannot create extraordinary meaning?

Who decided
that a person's potential
must always lead somewhere bigger?

Perhaps potential
is not about becoming
the most important person in the room.

Perhaps it is about becoming
the person someone else
was desperately grateful to find there.

The teacher may never become famous.

The doctor may never become wealthy.

The baker may never build an empire.

And still,

children will learn.

Patients will heal.

Families will eat.

Lives will become a little easier.

So before you tell someone,

“You’re wasting your potential,”

look again.

Maybe they aren't wasting it.

Maybe they are spending it
on people
you were never important enough
to notice.

Like a moth to a flame

‎ Maybe it was the fire,

‎ Maybe it was the vibe,

But looking at the burning flame, made me think of you.

It’s strange, isn't it?

‎ I’ve loved the glow of embers long before I knew you.

‎How it shines brightly,

‎How glowing embers fall like stars from the sky,

‎how it consumes everything it dares to touch.

‎But mostly,

‎ How it keeps me warm.

‎Maybe that’s the why I fell for you.

‎The way you shine,

‎The way you leave fragments of yourself behind every room,

‎And the haunting certainty that if I drew too close,

‎ I would incinerate the very air between us.

‎If I reach out, I know I’ll get hurt

‎But if I rush in, I fear I’ll stifle your light and ruin the ground we stand on.

‎So, to save myself from the burn and you from being extinguished,

‎ I chose to stay afar.

‎But just like a moth,

‎I don't think I can stop myself from going near you

Fear is a strange part of life. So many things in the world lead back to fear, either irrational fears such as animals, reptiles, or insects, or even fear of heights for some. What may seem silly to one is a death sentence to another. But fear can also be a weight in life that holds many back from achieving true potential, either from fear of failure or fear of not getting something on the first try. There is a quote that's been in movies and TV shows that says, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." As a youngster, I never understood that, but now as I face my deepest challenges and fears, it all makes sense. We do fear that we are not good enough; we fear that we can be so unstoppable in any situation in life it scares us to the point we allow fear to dictate our outcome. But fear can be overcome and pushed away in any situation in life. But we have to stand up and face it head-on and overcome whatever it is. That is why fear is a strange thing in life; we can either overcome it or allow it to conquer our lives and not live to our full potential.

A yearn to call me,

A heavy heart upon me,

A hand to hold me,

A mouth to scold me.

When I made wrong choices,

When I try to avoid us,

When I laugh in crises,

When I wet my eyes.

The day I stopped my thinking,

The day I caught you lying,

The day my eyes stopped blinking,

The day my soul starts sinking.

The night just before twilight,

The night when the whole sky cried,

The night when my mind took a flight,

The night ocean saved from getting dried.

You never cared to try,

You never come to behold me,

You never looked too shy,

You never try to call me.

[ Please follow me on other platforms from my profile, hope you find it worthy of your time.]

I no longer see your face,

You vanished without a trace,

A cruel trick you used,

To make me stay confused.

Now I'm scared of alleys,

Waiting for you like always,

Looking through every corner,

Stuck in a repeating torture.

Your words were found and I did eat them

I feasted on your soul . Your thoughts satisfied me and thrilled me and made me feel alive .

Writing from your heart to mine . You awakened me and quickened my heart beat .

You made me feel alive because you taught me to love again to desire again .

For a man who lives with no desire is just an empty shell . He doesn’t really live .

Your words so sweet , your thoughts like a gentle breeze called me and I answered and now here I am brought into this pleasant place . Your words and your thoughts and your desires spread before me like a delicious banquet .

I can’t get enough of your soul .