i am trying to

forgive myself

for having the heart

to dedicate all of

my poems to you

but not the guts

to put your name

in the title

-mars

emigration — forbidden

I'll leave motherland today

I'll go to Norway to weld ships

or build nuclear reactors

I could even wash dishes

just to ensure dignified existence for Cat

yet I travel mostly by my finger on the map

because it would be a little bit hard for me

to leave streets hot like hell

in the summer of the city in which

so many misfortunes happened to me

dirty like junkies river by which we

wasted so many beautiful moments

which we could use for e.g.

secure a better future for us

and empty house out of town

on which I wrote

that life is eventually worth something

Maybe if I was actually someone else

Not just pretending

Maybe if I had a reason

For the things that I do

And feel

And think about

Maybe if this was years ago

Before parts of me began

To fall off

Before my name left me

Before I lost my balance

Before my mistakes came up through the ground

To bury me

Before they left bloody handprints

Up and down

My body

Before things ripped and shattered and broke

Maybe if I was

Different

Better

Maybe

These days wouldn’t hurt as much

And I wouldn’t find myself

Wishing

For things

That will never belong to me

call

here i’ll sit,

in these desolate halls,

waiting for your calls,

calls that will never come,

my voice will be the only thing to ring out,

in the silence of it all,

and like crumpled paper,

i’ll throw it all away,

keep it at bay,

and miss my aim,

because what is life,

if not ever tormenting,

ever cold,

and never more,

these feelings fleeting,

like the light in these halls,

can you hear my call?

Incase you ever feel worthless, remember that none of us have wings so that makes pigeons cooler than us. So basically we're all worthless, so you're not even special you're basic and worthless like the other 7 billio-...oh boy this isn't helping is it? Well I like icecream :)

Each time I close my eyes, I think of you and how heavenly it would be if you were by my side.. I keep thinking until I fall asleep. When I open my eyes I gaze onto the wall infront of my bed and wonder how your mornings look like.. its the same everyday.. but I'll keep believing that one day I won't have to wonder anymore, I'll keep believing that one day our mornings would be parallel.

-r. n

the reality is this: you will never have to ask someone who cares about you to prove it.

of a river that journeys to the sea

what red sand rolls over your tongue, awash the curve of the rough ocean wave. broken shells and glass bottles, litter. storms rage and seize.

I am smooth, unwavering glistening in moonlight. carrying silt from the river's lush mouth into estuaries where we meet in calm, unscented waters.

I curl into lapping, receding eddies of muddy desire. mingling - cold with warm, currents with white water fresh with salt from your tongue.

© SoulReserve 2021

(a response poem to Alex’s beautiful poem on “desire”. of course I had to make it into a love-poem haha) 

Untitled 159

‎Yo talk to me about ⁦‪Palestine‬⁩ though.

Tell me you are seeing the horror. Tell me that you can’t sit idle while children are massacred in their homes.

TELL ME YOU WILL STAND FOR HUMAN RIGHTS.

‎Tell me you want justice. Tell me you want the ones responsible to be held accountable.

Talk to me about ⁦‪Palestine‬⁩.

So that when your children read about this in history books you can say you were on the right side of history.

#zauqezindagi . . . . . . . #typewriter #poem #emotions #igpoet #poetsociety #shotstory #writerscommunity #prose #paint #writing #poenoftheday #art #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #creativewriting #wordgasm #poetryislife #poetrycommunity #mywords #instapoetry #fellings #poetsofig #instapoet #poetsofinstagram #poems #poetry #poetryisnotdead #poema #creative (at Lahore, Pakistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CPB_UaPB8xI/?utm_medium=tumblr

I wonder who I’d be

If you’d loved me

Enough

To make a difference

You taught me

To be disappointed in myself

To count my flaws

And feel their weight

And that’s a lesson

That’s stuck

Another poem for school

Transportation By Tk Storm

I used to be a wild horse: Free to move where I please, Without goals or ambitions, Having infinite energy, Yet no known purpose.

Now I am a car: Following a predetermined path, With an end planned and in sight, With just enough energy to get to the next stop, And miles of road behind and ahead.

I don’t really like this one because it’s not my style.

Everyone I love turns to dust. Rust. I am caustic, toxic, whatever way you put it; I am poison. Love eliminated by my debilitated ability to balance. Reason. It being the only thing I run towards, the only thing I can not obtain. Legs made of stone. Rocks made of arsenic, stoning whoever looks twice.

Sometimes, waking up, I still feel like I'm holding your hand.

Even if it's getting more and more rare.

It is so scary how years still go by

while you're gone.

Body Dysmorphia vs Gender Dysphoria

Body Dysmorphia vs Gender Dysphoria

How can anybody tell the difference? You’re living in a body With genitals, and an Outward physical appearance. Everyone seems to hate puberty, it’s kind of a Universal experience. I knew that I was gender dysphoric Because I realized I’d love to be a fat man And hated being a fat woman. Everyone listening Heard fat both times. I only mention it, to make a clear distinction– I always…

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overall pockets

Ah There are deep pockets in my dirty overalls They swallow up my forearm I could lose many things there I could lose many many things there 

I am given a book Of great importance I am given a tale Older than time 

It begs to be cracked open, Read, for it is greater than divine 

Do you open it? Do you open it? 

I drop it in my overall pockets And feel it fall through the universe

The Mirror (1975)

Director: Andrej Tarkovskij

One-Sided Information

Damn. Today was a lot. Woke up and read a FART/transphobic article Comparing HRT and transgender medical interventions To lobotomies, and it’s mass appeal and popularity as a Cure all approach to mental illness in deviant women. Then I found a counterculter trans guy who hates the BLM… Then I realized that Nobody is right, everybody is wrong, and We will all just have to wait and see how…

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