hyperstation

[hyperstation]

pink ribbon scars

today could've been the greatest day ever known, in a way that I wouldn't be able to wait for tomorrow.

tomorrow hangs low, I'll come around, I'll rip my heart out before you take it for granted.

I look down at the black and white spiders with a curiosity that doesn't belong to me. I grip stones as the Tower collapses, staring at bugs and the odd beauty that comes around.

the rotten eggs's taste in my mouth, the morning star rising should give me hope for tomorrow, my soul was touched, and there's no going back. I want to go back to the yesterday and spit my heart out before wearing off by disappointment.

tomorrow hangs low, yesterday, I couldn't sleep, I drink tea and read at night, you made clear that our curiosities don't align. as much yours poured into mine, I wouldn't argue about a man's definition of the worth of knowledge.

after the Tower collapses, I stare at the stony rubbish, I want more of life than you could ever give me. I'll play dead for a while, and you won't notice as I wait for something I cannot name, a weekend or two.

the morning star rises, tomorrow will come around with a reap of broken images of the things I learned to love I patch them like the finest tapestry.

I dream of flying with it over the ocean, the smell of the salty water, waves, and whales so close to me. I search for somewhere that the cinder always remains, meanwhile, disappointment doesn't wear off, I write to know I am still alive.

#original poem #original poetry #original writing #poetry #spilled writing #poem #spilled poetry #spilled poem #spilled feelings #writing #v.g

[hyperstation]

age of sensibility

I thank my father for always asking me and, not even once, assuming me. blessing myself with idiosyncrasy, darling, we are not the same, and it's time for me to wear it on my sleeve.

I grew up, and all I want is to reach the vowels of the Universe.

I moved out of my parent's house in February, weekends alone, I could smoke all I want, drink, and bed everyone, but I won't.

I solve equations, I make sense of childhood dreams, I clean my room, I kiss curious minds alike, I fall in love with things and don't feel like a foreigner, after all, I am surrounded by those who can contemplate butterflies pinned up on a wall.

I take care of myself, I stumble and fall, but it's ok, I take great comfort in no faith in the obvious things, I am finally sure of it.

#original poem #original poetry #original writing #poetry #spilled writing #poem #spilled poetry #spilled poem #spilled feelings #writing

[hyperstation]

couldn't sleep, burning

I saw beauty through your eyes, and

is it electric?

hidden in devil's darning needles,

can't sleep, making it to the dawn.

I see beauty through your eyes,

when you show me mythomania,

egomania, and driven knowledge lust,

it's tortoise as it's the missing Manuela,

it's turquoise as your eyes look at me down

in the college hall.

you show me,

when the walkingstick isn't there,

suddenly, here it is,

Phasmatodea,

you show me what you see

'cause you are going to see

everything that there is.

I see through your eyes,

it doesn't make me jump or scream,

squirm and wash it off until the skin bleeds,

because I look at what you see,

and inside turquoise eyes,

beauty heals.

#poetry #original poem #original poetry #original writing #spilled writing #poem #spilled poetry #spilled poem #spilled feelings #writing #v.g

[hyperstation]

sweet nothing—taylor swift

[hyperstation]

high tides, the pull, and a strange angel.

when you sleep I turn to my first love song, as if I have been asleep into a whole decade of longing.

we are out in the endless green, you tell me, it might be misleading but it's where the tropical weather blows, and your heart shows.

I shut my eyes on a floating rock, you meditate for a while and wake me up, "hang on tight in my back, let's exchange the experience".

the sand doesn't feel real, the land doesn't reel, there's only time, light, and tides, I am so afraid, and I could call on angels.

the pull comes between, the same one that makes everything fall into the divine palaces a high tide lets you win, past where the feet touch, the land doesn't reach.

hanging on you after the drown, the crack of lights comes through, I see, laugh, and kiss, my feet still don't reach, holding tight in your shoulder blades, I don't feel the fear anymore, the sea loves you, and so should the moon.

#original poem #original poetry #original writing #poetry #spilled writing #poem #spilled poetry #spilled poem #spilled feelings #writing #h.m

[hyperstation]

hugo

you are half-crazy, and kindness makes you cry, I can hear all the cars driving by, as we dance under the streetlights, how long haven't I seen those cherry skies?

what is going to happen will time fly kindly by? I will join those wretched and scorned out of love?

I peak again through the cracks, but that's finally right, 'cause that's how the lights get in.

#h.m

[hyperstation]

never ending math equation, modest mouse

[hyperstation]

so long now, not a flower left.

this love has come and gone, moments slipping into a thousand miles, and the way the world has kept spinning burns down my memory.

this love has come and gone, and the way I would feel you wherever I went, now hides behind the clouds as the sorrow dwarfs me on the ground.

you were the one that I loved.

this love has come and gone, like the aftermath of an earthquake, everything built on nothing to last, and I don't know how to get back to the old, brand-new world.

so long now, someone once said hell is the Other, but I learned it also gets to be Heaven.

so long, goodnight you won't find me written in the seducer's diary, I sleep better now that's in the past.

this love has come and gone, and it's time to let it go 'cause it will never come home, so long, goodbye, clear as a blue sky, it burns down the memory you were the one that I loved.

#original poem #original poetry #original writing #poetry #spilled writing #spilled poetry #poem #spilled poem #spilled feelings #writing #r.s

[hyperstation]

[hyperstation]

hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you

[hyperstation]

victor

life is achingly beautiful and sometimes, it comes down like a wave that crashes onto the ground.

I told a few people before, some understood, some didn't, one can only love if one is willing to move out of the self, that's the only decision when it comes to love, whatever may come next, it is what the heavens allow.

I was unaware before you, how many times I ran from myself, suppressing my skin and wishing to morph into those who I had thought were better than me.

not anymore.

#v.m #spilled poetry #original poem #original poetry #original writing #spilled poem #spilled writing #writing #poem #spilled feelings #poetry

[hyperstation]

hi, i'd like a "i told secrets i shouldn't tell, i stumbled over all my words, i made it weird, i made it worse" with a side of that feeling of dread because you can't take the shit you said back and now you've got to live with it

[hyperstation]

In Singapore, it's past bedtime, Mount View it's shiny and blue, and there's a cat named Sorte in Copenhagen who always plays with the bravest mouse, just like his owner. At home, I have been watching the world turn around.

I disposed of the bottles in my room, I clean my room, my soul and heart, golden's boy came and went away, giving me mornings and childhood memories, and I know that I am no real-sized doll, but I was hoping my idiosyncrasies could distract him from it. In the end, it makes sight, the way I always know it is what it is.

Setempber is pale, and I always fall in love, I heard a bird flip its wings across the Pacific Ocean, I came a long way to know I could love it until my dying day. my mind won't shake and shift until it's too late, it's too easy to fill in the blanks they create, but not now, I renounce to it this time, walking out with grace, beauty is all there is.

On the 7th of September, I reached lower, descending into the solitude, I want to unlearn all about property, world's holy spirit couldn't move out of me to give me a sense of adequation through life, and time is unreliable.

life hides behind clouds, and I hear its sounds in outer space. I want to disappear, improve myself, and turn into a human being, is that enough to get me to the edge of the world's turning point?

#original poem #original poetry #original writing #spilled writing #poetry #poem #spilled poetry #spilled poem #spilled feelings #writing #personal favorite

[hyperstation]

afterthoughts in the emergency room.

grace doesn't come naturally to me, I need to perform it, and it isn't always enough. I have been trying to accept my limitations. other people's way will always be a magic show for me.

I lit the couch on fire, my hands shake when there's much noise, and I spill the drink and don't receive another invitation. he says the clumsy ones should stay at home, I am five again and aware not everyone is for everyone, and there's something wrong with me that I cannot name but whenever other people pick on it, they leave.

and I will never be someone else, noise will always overwhelm me, I will have to endure this feeling of inadequacy, and find someone who goes to the same mall store with me four times, and looking for the very same keychain, 'cause I am obsessive, and my brain doesn't shake and shift, and it's the story of my life, I am incapable of going home and letting it go.

#poetry #poem #original poem #original poetry #original writing #spilled writing #spilled poetry #spilled poem #spilled feelings #writing

[hyperstation]

golden boy's hour

I have been doing this since I was sixteen, I see it golden, and I see it bright, summer wraps me, entices me in its haze, and oh god, I want it so bad.

I bloomed too late, and now winter is here, summer remains twisted around me as only desire itself could.

it's the freckles on your neck, the tattoos on your ankles, and the Sun orbiting on your laugh, and you should know, but you won't ever know, I saw you in my dreams before, running in an endless green field with paint on your face, the beauty of the world in your chest, till' your father shook your shoulders and took you away from it, you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders as he screamed, why couldn't you ever be still?

I woke up and wept.

every morning my heart races, not knowing what I am waiting for, and what if it could be you, though? or again, I caught myself crossing wires of past and now.

can I fool you into thinking I am a cornflake girl? should I hide that I dream of Hekhalot-Merkabah? you'd probably make fun of me.

love for me is always waiting for a train that never shows, until I get a grip on myself and start to walk on, can I give you a little of myself, and you can fall in love with the world through my eyes? if can't it be me, I will take it what I can.

before I retreat myself for good, reminding that I always know when I have no chance, but oh God, if I could only win this once, because beauty it's all that there is, and it's overflowing, I wouldn't dare to ask anything else of this matter.

#original poem #original poetry #poetry #spilled writing #poem #spilled poetry #original writing #spilled poem #spilled feelings #writing #long poem #long poetry #tlt

[hyperstation]

the gray's haze covers the morning, and I walk on endless green hills, wishing I was tripping with a golden angel searching for Arthurian legends 'cause I am so tired of those who know what's right, but are too spineless to follow through.

If memory serves me right, I turn around and leave before any harm, because goodbye is never an announcement, it's a decision.

[hyperstation]

9th of July.

I don't want to be the girl that cries all the way home, I can be beautiful when I structure myself, I can be outstanding when I show up to appointments, and I need to do the same trick I did in 2019, pierced through the heart but not killed.

I wish you would still think of me, I wish you would dream of me and be embarrassed about it, and the world will always treat you nicer than it did to me, do you think it's such a shame? do you even think about me?

I got it right the first time you left, but in disbelief, I couldn't face letting it go.

are you now in love with someone who doesn't sound or look like me? do you still keep pictures of me since I was twenty, like all the moments you were gone before? you always said your mother would've loved my hair and the prospect of grandchildren blessed with it, though she would be horrified with the way my own mother raised me.

when I remind, you are the kind of person who would trade your soul to a song that could describe how you feel all along, I do those on my own, but the price it's to forget the difference between the now and comes next.

I still fall in love, sometimes, I am glad I reach it, but I force my lover's hand, I fight, kick and scream and I feel relief when they leave, tricking them into being left. in a week, I don't know their names.

9th of July, it's all clear, I am not angry or sad anymore, I see it for what it is, being seen for what I am was the scariest thing, and being left for it, it almost killed me, you were the one I loved, and I cried when I found a picture of you with Sorte.

I am standing so low, and I could've loved you for a lifetime, but I'll come around, because you disappointed me, that's enough reason to let it go, you didn't give me enough, and I was stupid and young to act like it was enough, when it was never enough, and I swear to you, you won't ever find another girl like me.

#r.s