Poetry irrelevant thoughts

[bayleen]

Perfectly Imperfect
Stop daydreaming; Your imagination is infesting your brain; kill it before it kills you; Don't be so sensitive you're not made of glass, you won't break; Don't eat that, you'll get fat; If you're fat, no one will like you; What will people think?; Think before you speak; You know nothing; I'm only helping; Tell me what you're thinking?; Your heart will get you in trouble. Your brain will get you a degree; Don't scream; hold it in; Don't show them your feelings; Like a snake, like a serpent, sell them; Step on them before they do you; Don't trust your friends Julius Caesar was killed by his; Kindness is a weapon; use it only when it benefits you;

You're slowly erasing me; I'm losing grasp of what I thought I knew; I don't even know who I am anymore; Buried beneath layers of unfamiliar faces; I'd rather go to the movies; I'd rather devour a three hundred tier cake; Drown in my sadness; Dance even though I can't dance; You've tucked me away into the earth's soil; Without you, I'm a Giant, and a giant will never falter from a dwarf; You're chained to society standards; one hundred pounds to fat, nothing a surgeon can't fix; You'll deface yourself to please this society, but I'll escape;

I'll jump into a blue abyss; Their words won't reach me; They can try, but I can't promise their sanity; Six thousand six hundred feet in the absence of light is more merciful than your society; Fishes aren't ones to judge unlike your society; I declined Noah's Ark and embraced the ocean's tides; This isn't my demise this is my beginning; Who would hurt me when I have an army of sharks?; You'd be envious to know the sirens are friends of mine; I can't swim, I'll eventually descend into everlasting peace; Never been good at soccer but this time I've scored;

The sea will be my shelter, escape, and retreat; Left my outer shell in the hands of the Kraken; My soul at peace riding on the back of the great white whale, Moby Dick; Captain Ahab could never hurt us because where we're traveling is out of his reach;

Your mind couldn't fathom how such a place exists; A euphoric feeling, and I don't mean drugs and alcohol; A place where I will forever be loved; A place where I am an impenetrable fortress; A home where I can be just as I am perfectly imperfect.​

 

[bayleen]

My safe space
What's the safest place for you?
Where is the place that you would run to-to feel like satan's whispers cant reach you?
I can guess that you didn't say your home.
Why is that?

Why is it the I don't feel safe at home?
I feel safer in an elevator filled with men rather than my own home.
I feel safest far away from home.
I feel safe in school with the chance that I might die in a school shooting.

I feel safer under the sea because that's more predictable than my own home.
My safe space is not a place.
It's a mindset.
I'll take myself under the ocean.

When it gets too hard to breathe, I'll take myself to the tallest mountain, and when the breathing becomes too much.
Then I'll go to outer space.
The space vacuum will pull the air from my body.
​

 

[bayleen]

If the moon fell into my arms,
I would hold her as if she were my own.
But if she slipped from my hands,
he would steal her light away.

I lack the strength to guard her glow,
he tells me, "It's just human nature,
it's just evolution."

But I fear we are an abomination.
He'll burn her, destroy her,
and then cry when it destroys him.
He knows it's wrong,
but his heart is blinded by the light.

The glaciers are melting,
fires have devoured my sycamore trees,
and he’s laughing on his moon.

I scream, I shout,
but he silences me with a grin:
“I trump your science." He says.
And what’s science against a man’s wants?​

 

[bayleen]

Coffee is my obsession,
black as the night when no stars dare linger.
It whispers to me in the language of shadows,
its bitterness an intimate truth I can’t unlearn.

Each sip is an offering,
each swallow a hymn to something ancient.

They call me old-fashioned,
as if my love for the past is a flaw.
An old soul, they say,
but they don’t know the weight of it—
how coffee cradles me when the world feels sharp.

This is not the chaos of a Red Bull,
or the cheap promises of canned energy.
Coffee is the earth’s heartbeat in liquid form,
Coffee is different—ancient, patient.
A ritual carved into mornings,
a quiet ceremony of life and longing.

In its blackest form,
it doesn’t energize me; it resuscitates me.
Each sip pulls me closer to myself,
like the tide to the shore, inevitable and constant.

They say it's addiction
I say it's devotion.

No other drink, no other force,
holds a candle to its darkness,
It is not just coffee;
it is the pulse beneath my skin.​

 

[bayleen]

Tw: ed
I kneel before the porcelain altar,
whisper prayers between dry lips,
fingers down my throat like rosary beads.

They say beauty is effortless,
but I carve it out of myself,
scrape it from my bones,
spit it into the drain

I fold myself like paper,
thin and fragile, easy to tear.
They say beauty is delicate,
so I cut myself down
until I barely exist and watch it spiral away.

I keep my secrets in the porcelain altar,
spit them out between gasps of air.
The taste of salt and shame lingers,
but I tell myself this is discipline,
that hunger is a choice I have mastered.

My body is a tide pulling back,
smaller, smaller, smaller—
until I am nothing but 99% water,
a fading outline, a hunger that never ends.

They tell me I am shrinking,
that I need to stop,
but I don’t know how to be full
without drowning.​