May 24

A concept of time.

    I have come here to share and decipher things of philosophical interest to me, and hopefully to you. Things that I have considered for a long time, but have only recently began to truly analyze. To begin I will explain a philosophical idea, that I consider and truly believe to be factual in every concept of reality.
These two rules are a fact that determine many of my more complex philosophies:
    There is only one possible future, and there is no possible way to change that fact.
May 20

writers block

I want to write.
And yet here I am, deleting the same line over,
and over,
and over.
It feels like sometimes, words simply...
      from us.
And the other times, words come to a
We can't control it. Maybe others can. I can't. It's something so uncontrollable, and yet so unnoticeable. When the words flow, writing is so simple.  
I have a friend who says she can't write. I have multiple friends like that, who spend hours on a small haiku because they can't break that dam that stops the flow of thoughts and words and everything in between. 
The dam can be repaired, of course. But sometimes, once broken and rebuilt, it's easier to break again.
Apr 19

Remarkable: A Reflection on the Twenty First Century

If I was born in the fourteen hundreds, I might have been burned as a witch. As a queer, mentally ill, autistic Jewess, there would have been no chance for me. If I was born in the sixteenth century I might not have lived very long, for I was born three weeks early and had jaundice. In the 1800s, I might have been comtitted to a sanatorium and left to wander empty halls alone and more crazy then when I started out. In the '50s, I might have recived an ice pick lobotomy at the hands of some uncaring doctor and left with my frontal love scrambled. In the '70s, I would have lived through the passing of the American's with Disablities Act and how disabled people had to fight and fight and fight to ahve their voices heard.
Apr 16
The second mouse's picture


The present we live in is as unstable as the future we walk into.
One second, one minute, one look, one scratch, one wave of emotions different and I wouldn’t be here.
Everything has been set up so beautifully yet horrifyingly perfect so that we experience this second in the moment for each of us. And that scares the shit out of me.
What happens if I look the wrong way, forget my keys, look at my phone?
We play a game of Russian Roulette with a million guns already shot a million times, and we do so willingly to the point we’ve forgotten the bullets even there
and I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse

Apr 15
Morgan D's picture

Younger me nostalgia

When I was a younger child I used to get up every morning on the weekends and watch the show Courage The Cowardly Dog.  Now that I’m older I know that it was quite disturbing and I have no idea why I liked it so much. If I was given the chance to watch it again I probably would but I might not like it as much. It is about Courage the dog who has to survive all of these weird scenarios. The one I remember the most is when courage and his owners were transported into the painting at a painting museum. Anyway I miss the show and might watch it again. 
Apr 05

Hate Worthy For The Gods

We were made for the gods, for petty entertainment.
We were made for the gods, we fight their battles. 

They will laugh their shallow laughs,
watch in amusement of our blood baths. 
We were made for the gods, sculpted and shaped. 
We died for the gods, in an attempt to escape. 
We were made for the gods, and learned to hate.
mortal wars are far worse
disagreement becomes a curse. 
fatalities and crying mothers
all because of hating others. 

human hate. 
​limp on a puppet string, dangling from perpetual power. 

How I wish it would stop. 

Apr 03

The World Wants

Snoopy’s obsessed with his French girls, and Clario wants Sofia. Jane pines for Bingley, and Trump always needs more. Gandhi strove for peace, Eve a fruit. Slaves want freedom, and birds need wings. Lucy chases Schroder and Romeo loves Juliet. The ocean needs a shore and a shore needs the ocean. The hills need the valley and the valley needs the hills. We need the world but the world doesn’t need us. We want space but space doesn’t want us. We need each other but we push each other away. Killers bring Death but Death is their downfall. Mirrors show reality but reality shatters. Poets need words and words are made for them. We want what we can’t have and take for granted what we do. We come together only to break, and break only to come together. Time tears and time heals. We search for the truth but we lie. We live only to die. We laugh only to cry and cry only to laugh. We live only to die, we live only to die.    

Mar 31

screaming in my head

i just sent a message 
to someone who i can't say the name of
because they hurt me
and now i'm screaming
because i can't talk to them
and no one knows i sent a message
so i'm in a full-blown panic
because i'm scared they hate me.

Mar 13

moving: the good and the bad.

soft spoken skin, 
unmatched to the 
horrors of the night.

dirt filled nails,
laughing children
with fruit juice dribbling  down their chins.

marble and gold.
they tease me.
and i will watch 
in envy.
of the queens crown.

tragic endings or slow beginnings haunt me. I do not know what to do.
the good and the bad of the move.
Mar 07

Grow Up and Listen

You don't wanna talk to me or listen to me or hear what it is I want to tell you so badly and that's fine.
You never want to listen to anyone anyway.
You'll never understand what it's like for everyone else because you never listen.
You don't care and you don't want to.
You're stubborn and greedy and everything I dislike in a person.
You picked and poked at the people I love for being different.
You nag and nudge because you can never be like them.
You can never be original or funny or free.
You'll always be trapped by your own hate, unable to be happy, unable to let go.
You'll never understand what it's like to be born in a body that you don't feel is yours.
You'll never know what it's like to be scoffed at and ridiculed for being yourself.
You'll never know love or friendship or family and for that, I feel sorry for you.
You're just too busy being torn by hate and chewed up by its disgusting mouths.
Mar 03

I Am The Quaking Aspen––A Revelation

Did you know?

The tree certainly couldn't have relayed the message to you.
You named it a wise old woman:
tender, battered, sexual.

It seems you knew.

Her scars––the tree's––were so similar to yours.
And she told them to you. In colors, in seasons, in falling branches.
In her quaking––unsure if it was applause or fear-trembling.

And yet you weren't aware she was you.

You created her story, her labia and breasts, tears and dance moves and 
sacred femininity. 
She was truly old though––and strong.
You didn't make those up. Those were simple observations.
Mar 03
rant 2 comments challenge: Unjust

Is this normal?

Here's what I need. Next time you speak to me, call me a baddass before you talk or ask about my ass. I need every person who makes an objectifying  comment, sexual advance, or otherwise problematic innuendo, to imagine they're saying it to their baby sister. To their neighbor. To the kindergarteners we walk past out in the world, to the mothers who fought so hard for equal opportunity in the workplace. I need each and every person to ask themselves before they speak, "Does this sentence use a woman as an object? Am I going to benefit the people around me by saying this, or am I simply insecure?"

Because while I can recover from your comments, jokes, and phrases that are seen as normal in our culture of harassment, I don't know if she can. I don't know if the next girl can. I can't sit back and watch while those around me suffer. This language is not normal. It CANNOT be normal. It's ludicrous that women are subjected to crude comments wherever they go. 
Feb 27

Silent Panic

shallow breaths are ignored for sometime now. fingers, clenched up, scratching at others. no. 
control, don’t let your emotion subdue you. right now is when your brain should not control your body.
muffled curses are silently screamed. ink punctures your mental diary. it overflows.
subconscious sirens and hammering heartbeats. sweat forms. right now is when your brain does not control your body. 
Feb 22
Monster_T_02's picture

Do I Miss You?

You asked me, "Do you miss me enough to swallow back the spice filled, delirium inducing elixir?" And I responded "I loved you enough not to" There isn't a moment in time your memory doesn't flash across my consciousness. A moment your smile doesn't cross my mind, Or your laugh doesn't invade my senses. Nearly a year later my heart still cries out for you in my sleep. I still yearn to hold you again. Not a moment your sarcasm doesn't reach, And I don't feel your judgment of my actions. You remind me not to. Your memory serves as a guide. It hold the place my own judgment used to lie. I no longer am capable of asking you what i should do. I can no longer sit next to you eating ice cream. Or find lost books in the forest. I can no longer see your motorcycle, Nor feel the sun hit my face as we swam at the beach. I will never see your face again. But when it ended. I was not the one seeking guidance. You sought out closure, and understanding. Your fear, your hope, your pain,
Feb 21
rant 4 comments challenge: Year 2


conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.
"it's quite normal for puppies to bolt their food"

That's the thing about our
species as humans. We adapt
over time; learn to make the best
of what we have. We are
survivors at heart; it is 
in our blood and nature. We
have been taught to prepare for
natural disasters,
a bunch of random things that could
destroy us. But I swear to god
or anything or anyone up there,
no one could have been prepared
for this. 

My friend has his bar mitzvah 
on the full year of quarantine:
March 13th, 2021. Shocking, 
if you think about it. A full year
of isolation,
facetime calls,
empty nothingness...
it's become normal. 
We've adapted. Now we know
to not leave the house without
a mask and hand sanitizer, 

The Fundamentals

Why is everything? 

what is a human? 


Feb 15

~mental diary~

I wish I kept a diary. 
For concealing everything
That lies beyond my outer shell
Brings no satisfaction. 

If I were to keep a diary, 
I would write my battling breaths
And rattling years.

But if I were to keep a diary,
Would someone walk upon the sodden pages,
And know?
Would my tsunami of feelings
Be found?

Feb 08

you used to love me

and i believed you 
when you said those three words
so go ahead and call me a fool
or a b!tch
or a hopeful lover
but i guess its better than 
never loving at all. 

love is pain. 
that's how i will almost always
link love with anything. 

because you taught me that. 

you stabbed my heart 6 months ago.

i'm still bleeding.

i have these flashbacks
whenever someone says or
does something. i think of
you and only you for
a couple of moments, and 
how you loved me. 

and now
someone loves me the way 
you used to, and though
i may want to (I DONT KNOW)
i cant love them back
because of what you did
to me.


if you see this in the future,
i want you to know
how much you hurt me. i 
may never recover.

and all because of you. 
Jan 24

forever young

forever young.
dandelions, feathers,
floating in the sky,
look up, sir,
we’re going high

forever young.
treated like children,
expected to be adults,
you’ve lived your life,
now let us live ours

forever young.
and we care about friends,
so what?
and we wanna have fun,
so what?

forever young.
blame us for drugs,
mock the drunk,
“get yourself together”,
well you never did.

forever young.
moody? no.
angry? never.
disappointed? yes.
stressed? always.

forever young
riots, mobs, protests,
danger, ire, rage,
bands, beer, parties
connotations, assumptions.

forever young.
wrote in your texts,
in your book,
flip the page,
just take a look

forever young.
rowdy teens, yes?
pointless, idiotic, yes?
maybe we’ve got something to say,
Jan 22

Oh, I love a good book!

I love a good book.

It could be a book where the sleek, smooth surface, hides 
the mossy hardcover book. 
and binding the cream pages, that swallowed me 
in it's thrilling story.
I don't know if anyone has heard of it. I am proud to reccomend it. 
Bought new, published not long ago. 
My sleek, hardcover book. 

It could also be a  classic discovered at my grandma's house. 
A tired paperback, one that I could fit in my pocket. 
Its faded yellow pages
used to be white.
entertaining those before me. 
It's a classic, I am proud to said to have read it. 
My classic, old book.