Breath grinds stone in the hollow chest,
time loops, cruel clockwork chewing marrow.
Each step refracts an endless cascade,
mirrors eating mirrors, swallowing meaning.
She watches herself dissolve, still walking,
hands trembling over undone buttons.
The walls bend inward, whispering static:
a language faceless, flat, unending.
Memory slits its own throat quietly,
bleeds until the air stinks of void.
Faces blur, cruel smudges framed in frost.
Fingers forget what they’ve once held.
The ceiling fractures, mercury spills night.
Dust coats the tongue, sour scripture of collapse.
Sanity laughs, teeth like shattered porcelain.
She screams and keeps on breathing.
Nothing stops. Nothing starts. Stillness spins.
Somewhere in the debris, she remains
a scream folded inside a name,
a self rusting softly in endless loop.
Breath grinds stone in the hollow chest,
time loops, cruel clockwork chewing marrow.
Each step refracts an endless cascade,
mirrors eating mirrors, swallowing meaning.
She watches herself dissolve, still walking,
hands trembling over undone buttons.
The walls bend inward, whispering static:
a language faceless, flat, unending.
"Echo without collapse"
Memory slits its own throat quietly,
bleeds until the air stinks of void.
Faces blur, cruel smudges framed in frost.
Fingers forget what they’ve once held.
"Echo without collapse"
The ceiling fractures, mercury spills night.
Dust coats the tongue, sour scripture of collapse.
Sanity laughs, teeth like shattered porcelain.
She screams and keeps on breathing.
Nothing stops. Nothing starts. Stillness spins.
Somewhere in the debris, she remains
a scream folded inside a name,
a self rusting softly in endless loop.
"Echo without collapse"
It leaves traces in the body long after it leaves the room
Some of them are soft, like flowers pressed between pages
Just the way I like them
Like light that lingers on walls after the sun is gone
Forming the most perfect silhouette
But not all are kind; others are heavier
Like coffins we never asked to carry
Built from endings we did not choose
Sealed with everything we could not say
I keep living between both
My love sinks sometimes, dragging whole seasons downward
But hope,
Hope refuses to learn how to drown
And I have started to understand that memory is not always mercy
It can become a place you go to visit
Or a place you never leave
So I am now learning to hold what happened
Without letting it become the death of me
To remember to survive the remembering
To choose life even when memory calls me back
To everything I lost
To choose breath
Over collapse
Love.
Pleading for a moment of silence
I remember.
Even if it was filled with the suspense of another blow,
even if all I felt was throbbing
just one quiet second.
I let it consume me.
After you, the air itself became carnivorous.
Like swallowing knives where the blood spilled within.
The body survives by reminding itself that
this is the only home that will ever shelter it.
Some nights, I hear myself scratching on my own walls,
behind the plaster, like a buried saint.
My love for you has not left; it had merely rotted,
sweet as fruit collapsing under flies.
Numbness is not resurrection,
neither is survival absolution.
But this emptiness in me is honest in ways you ever were:
it asks for nothing except its full weight.
So I entered it willingly, at last,
a dead star learning how to finally collpase -
embrace the void.
Crumbling around the edges,
cracks on the surface.
Slowly, a chasm opens on the inside.
Suddenly,
the surface splits,
swallowing everything inside.
Not with a flash,
not with a bang —
silently,
as if it had never been there.
That's how my world ended —
right then,right there.
My fellow Americans have given up
They’ll let Iran, Russia and China win
Those countries’ spies and terror cells
swarm and thrive here from within
Is it more noble to collapse in on ourselves ~
Is resisting sworn foes of freedom such a terrible sin
Once there was a debate in the lost paradise,
All the heavenly bodies are sitting in disguise.
The muscle flexing was seemed to be the only priorities,
The stars tried to take over the show as they were in majorities.
The Sun was smiling at these herds and their counterparts,
The moon looked at the firing Sun sitting in cold altar.
The moon was furious on the other hands to disregard their presence,
The Sun hesitate to enter into this fight of crown with diligence.
The moon asked the Sun to protest against these twinkling stars,
The Sun smiled and said
"We are neither near nor they so far."
Lies, words, truth —
three pillars of trust.
One used at the wrong time
can make the whole thing tremble.
So we invent a fourth pillar:
impeachment.
Not for law,
but for a heart
that trusted you with the structure.
But a building can’t stand on two pillars.
It only shakes —
harming the one who broke it
and the one still trying to hold it up.
Skin slick with sweat,
Firm thighs grind around my hips,
Your nails carve red moons into my back.
You whisper filth like prayer,
Voice breaks on every thrust,
I pin your wrists above your head.
Your body arched, greedy clam clenched,
I can't hold back any longer,
You milk me stroke by stroke.
Your tight wet heat pulses wild,
I feel you shatter first,
Your hot rush of salt and sin drenches me as we collapse.
The alarm clock sounds off to the tune of Neil Young’s, There’s a World.
A place that is non-existent in today’s life of a constant upwhirl.
Our dreams and aspirations are put to the side.
To get ready for the day of demands and haste for pride.
We enter our vehicles to begin a long drive, tiredness and red eyed.
To a place called work.
That requires you to do the tasks for that special perk.
No time to think.
No time to blink.
Your life is full of deadlines, distractions, until the pen runs dry, out of ink.
For hours on end, is this constant repetitive action.
You’re told what to say.
You’re told what to do.
Colleagues are fighting over who is using the offices favorite glue.
We are all in this mess together.
Bound like pieces of sewn up stitches of leather.
All for the reward.
A paycheck to continue to do it over and over again.
Feeling like a dartboard.
Designed, controlled in the trap.
It is the life of a well paid collapse.
children dying in the global south
we cannot drink oil and gas
coral reefs are dying in the ocean
we cannot eat coal and live
species are facing extinction
he keeps filling his vaults while
children starve from hunger
and diseases spreading like wildfire
this poet finds it preposterous
why should i be afraid of the one in wrong?
to say out loud their names-
the one in power and the one pulling the strings,
its a game of power and money-
an endless hunger of greed,
ecosystems collapsing
forests in fire, cracks in the land,
oceans are toxic and storms wrecking havoc
and the cost is the humanity that we must preserve
our own kind keep pushing their agenda, calling this crisis a hoax
people are dying across the globe
we cannot survive from eating coal
Breathless,
words like cordyceps adhere to my throat,
Choking me as the unspoken wrap around, seizing vocal cords.
Sticking fingers down, I claw to clear closing airways,
Yet the more I struggle, the more entwined they become.
Disconsolate spores have taken root within heaving lungs,
Spreading to each chamber of the heart, systematically.
Transported through streams of hemoglobin,
Swiftly infecting Broca's area before moving to the primary motor cortex—
As all speech ceases to be.
Collapse Caused Mishaps Horn Haiku
when causing mishaps
we would presume and perhaps
could create a collapse
AI is the ultimate plagiarist
mimicking patterns in human devised data.
Its models needs training on high quality data,
billions and billions of bits and bytes
of high-quality human derived thoughts and information.
But, AI output, with its hallucinations and flaws,
now has begun to flood into the data sources themselves.
Just like inbreeding,
the training becomes regurgitative,
feeding off its own output recycled.
With no way to tell the difference
between original and AI derived stuff,
the models become dumber and dumber
as each model learns from the previous one.
Rehashing the trash, disgorging, re-eating its own sick.
AI is its own Tower of Babel, the omniscient fountain of all insight, capable of all and anything, is fundamentally flawed and inbred.
AI is destined to become a rabble,
a Babel babble, incoherent, useless flotsam and jetsam.
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