The machine wants to draw me a picture
It has the hands to draw
It has a brain to think
It picks colors and shapes and sizes and compositions
I guess it is just as human as me

The machine wants to write me a story
It has the hands to write
It has the brain to think
It creates characters and scenarios and dialogue and plots
Sounds like it's very human

The machine wants to give me advice
It has the brain to think
It has the experience too
It makes predictions and analyses and conversations and plans too
How much more human can it be? 

Maybe one day the machine will be another human like me
Maybe one day it will sit on my couch
Drink out of my mug
Wear my face
Live my life

I would like to write a poem
a piece of text so raw,
so exceedingly brutal,
words that you would read
and make you feel a gaping hole in your heart
the place in that organ where your feelings should buried.

I would like to write it
when I have time,
when I have energy,
when this kind of exhausting life 
doesn't eat away at my soul.

I would like to write a poem
for myself,
for my future,
for anyone who might feel like I do,
for a chance of experiencing something better.

I have been dying to write a poem,
there are all of these things in my brain 
and my heart and my soul, too,
that refuse to form into words I can speak,
I guess they would be words 
my tongue finds too strong,
too harsh,
too real.

I have to write a poem,
lest everything will come out in tears, 
screams,
insults,
violent acts,
towards myself, only me

Writing poems
is how I know to take care of me

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-That’s a very broad question. Who am I supposed to be killing?

-Well you kinda just answered yes but anyone.

-No.

-Huh?

-I need to picture someone.

-Are you saying you’ll actually weigh one life against

the other before you decide who gets to keep living?

Playing God, aren’t we?

-You’re the one who asked. If I had the means, there’s nothing

I wouldn’t do to protect the ones I love. And if there’s no actual

God to stop me, then what’s the problem?

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-Miss what?

-The sunny days.

-The ones with no clouds up above? No shadow for the light?

-Those, yes.

-Do you?

-Terribly.

-Well, you were always the bright one.

-Your cynicism will leave you to die.

-What a terrible death it would be indeed.

Maybe then the sky would cry for me.

the end of all things,

the day the darkness came,

and the stars were going out in the sky.

I meet you at an intersection,

between two impossible choices,

the last choice anyone would ever have to make,

and the snow was nothing but ash.

I meet you at the world’s Big Bang,

where the beginning and end converged,

time become the illusion so many claimed it was,

and we could have eternity together.

I meet you.

Over and over again,

you there,

you here,

you then,

you now,

you everywhere,

you nowhere,

you at all the times,

you at no time at all,

you.

I meet you.

And that is how the world came to an end.

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i sink my teeth into your skin,

just to feel the warmth on my lips,

and the rush that comes to my veins

it’s my ecstasy,

my dream escape

something i can only get from your blood

while spending my nights awake,

avoiding the sunlight as if it’s my only mistake

i take your scent as my xanax,

the sound of your voice as my call,

so when you come back i know

i know my heart will beat again when i find your pulse,

when i find your blood bleeding inside my veins

only a god would know how many years its been

how much time ive spent wondering without a destination,

until you because my paradise

only a god would know, the restraint its taken,

the control i’ve exercised,

before you took over my every impulse

my every thought,

a perfect calming sign

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It’s been a couple of years

since I opened my eyes, awake in my bed,

without a crushing weight on my chest.

Such suffocating feeling, taking all of my breath away.

What do I think? It all has to be fake.

I question throughout the day,

I wonder if my brain doesn’t like playing tricks,

I ask if that in itself doesn’t mean

that there is something wrong with it.

There’s such a continuous effort 

to mask the chaos in my mind,

The muscles around my mouth petrify 

into a forged smile.

I’d love to say it has only been a day,

But this has been going on since

I was told to obey.

What an excuse, right?

But it’s even more of a drag, a damn drag,

The wish is to tie it all together and throw it all

 in the garbage disposal,

watch it all be shredded, and disappear from my view.

I can’t see

I can’t hear

The evil speaks to me

It whispers and it screams

And it doesn’t really matter how it speaks,

The volume remains the same.

Even in my sleep,

I still have dreams,

But they make no sense

And some have become nightmares.

I am always the character running away from Something

May it be a burning house,

May it be a chaser,

May it be death,

Always a danger, 

Always I’m fighting for my life.

The evil’s voice always following,

the sounds enters my ears and drills at my skull and it gets to my brain

Just to make it all worse.

So I wonder what would happen if I solidified these feelings

That bang at the walls of my chest

And made it into a weapon.

Perhaps a bat?

Or a gun- SHIT NO,

I already have something in hand.

So what could I do with my first punch?

I could throw it at myself:

My brain refuses to cope in healthy ways

So it berates me for simple mistakes

And the all the crying I’ve been doing every day,

‘Obviously, your friends are all sick of the damn crying!’

I wonder how could there be so many tears

In a body that feels so small and with so little energy?

I could throw it at my parents:

If it were up to them,

I’d work all day and night,

I wouldn’t even have the time to cry anymore,

Much less to do anything I could actually want to do,

OH, or to even sleep! Did I mention that I am always tired?

It’s uncanny

And I don’t enjoy it either,

That I can promise with hands up in the hair

And the clearest of consciousnesses

I can barely get a wink in this house

The walls are incredibly thin

And my door is always open,

Even when I leave it closed

It feels so hard to even breathe

But better yet, maybe I should throw my first punch at everyone:

Everyone around me that doesn’t begin to try and understand

Everyone that smiles at me, 

expecting a genuine smile back.

Everyone that misses my quiet screaming.

That punch is gonna land somewhere,

it might as well cause a good amount of damage

I just wonder what will be of my by the end of the year.

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I wrote this a few years back when I felt everything was crumbling around me. In case anyone worries, I’m a lot better right now. But if this poem can reach someone and make them feel understood, or less alone, or just give them any cathartic feeling, that would be good.

Thanks for reading!

buy me a coffee

only to jolt awake at any reminder

any call to action

any memory

of the tragedies and evils

prancing around in our Earth

cold and burning

coming out of my finger tips

at ungodly hours

cold and burning

keeping me awake

its been lying dormant for a while

but now it roars alive

and takes shape in these words

takes shape in every action i take

every scream i let out

anger no longer sleeps in my bones, it riots

when will it be enough

enough with the egos of kings

that don’t fit under their bloodied crowns and throne of corpses

enough with the greed of the elite

that lay waste to everything we hold dear

when will so many calls for it to be enough

finally just be enough?

the anger has slept enough

it will never go back to sleep again

Share wyn has poems in their head

you can sit back on the couch,

relax your muscles,

take a sip,

let the warmth wrap around your bones,

let it take away all the wariness off your smile,

this will only take a while

I don’t want to ask where you’re from

where you live,

how you’re doing,

what’s your favorite color,

or if you’re a dog or a cat person

I’m not interested in silly details, you see

what I want to know is something uglier,

something deeper,

a thing so true you want it to be a lie

tell me how you let all of your fears

dictate every aspect of your life

how you don’t truly know yourself

because you’ve never allowed you to be

how your shadow holds most of you than your body does

don’t worry, dear

I’m only asking because I care

I’m only asking because

I’m only asking

why would I want to know your birthday,

or your favorite movie,

where you grew up,

where you would like to go next,

what your dreams and desires are

that’s tea party conversation, dear,

we are having hot chocolate, just us

I want to know how your mind got to be

this twisted sick thing that hates its own flesh

this undeveloped organ you don’t know what to do with

and which doesn’t know what to do with you

does that not that sound way more interesting to you?

but dear,

that hot chocolate is getting cold,

and you’ve been sinking into the couch

won’t you drink more?

won’t you answer?

won’t you give me every disturbed little detail I’m craving?

here, hold on,

I’ll tell you a disturbed little detail of my own

I am you

you are me

and the cup cocoa is a cup of alcoholic medicine

and the couch is a lonely old street.

so may the bitterness wash away the sadness in your tongue

the aftertaste a reminder

an alert on your mouth

do not speak of any of this again

you don’t know who may stop to listen

you don’t want them to know you

maybe that’s why you chose to not know yourself.

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A gangplank in front of me

But where it leads,

That I cannot see.

But I smell the salt water,

I feel the breeze,

And this place is so familiar to me,

I feel it in my bones -

If I take one more step,

just one more,

I’ll fall into the sea.

t

h

i

s

s

e

a

This sea under me

So blue, so endless,

It calls me, it loves me,

It distracts and relaxes me

And the sound of the waves takes me

Takes me so far

So far away from this wreckage of a boat

Its wood with cracked,

Its sail torn,

and its mast broken

And who else is here?

It is just me?

Really just me?

Only me?

It’s really just me?

It’s only me.

And only myself.

1

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long for the darkness reigning,

when the world falls asleep

when there are no more lights to blind,

no more noise to deafen.

Dreams of the night

know nothing sweeter

watching the suns disappearing under the horizon line.

The hectic day

bruises a soul

which has long felt too fragile

which has long held a weight greater than its own

never having learned how to let go.

Dreams of the night,

bury their secrets deep in their blood,

lock them away in the imaginaries of their mind,

before the sun comes up,

before the world awakes,

before there’s someone to see it all.

For the night teaches its dreamers

how to imagine

how to believe in

how to dream

of a life where they don’t need their dreams

to feel free.

1

how might you are, old captain

with loaded guns you shoot at

unmoving targets (innocent people, you turn them into fools)

with heavy bombs you drop on

terrorist headquarters (libraries, religious sites and schools)

with charged words you aim at

criminals (people who can't survive under your rule)

how great you are, old captain

you love hearing your medals on your chest

those symbols of great honor

(for attacking the innocent and weak)

and great courage 

(from your protected seat)

how admirable you are, old captain

you’ve built an impressive Empire

(on top of all the corpses you made)

you’ve made yourself a legend

(known only for wielding scythe, your favorite blade)

my, old captain

how are you still surprised at

how many people come to celebrate (scorn) you?

you, bewildered,

there are infinite words of praise (insults) to your name?

what an alternate reality you must have been living in

old captain, you’ve had quite the run

don’t you think?

it’s fine to retire

the seas you so courageously braved will calm,

the terrains you conquered will bloom,

and all the skies you slept so soundly under will weep

but don’t you worry

you'll never be quite forgotten 

I made friends at work last year. Three people I thought could, at the very least, be my friends for as long as I was at the company. Maybe they wouldn’t be with me if I left, but I thought, as long as we shared that hellish space, we could be each others safe spaces. I was their work bestie for less than a year.

One of them just left the company and posted an Instagram story. It was a photo of the three of them, with the caption “where it all began, the dynamic trio.”. Trio? We were originally three before we went up to five, and then four, then up to seven and now it’s just the three of them. I haven’t talked to them much in a while because two of them started dating and gradually distanced themselves so I wasn’t even invited to their goodbye. So I guess I wasn’t worth keeping around for them either. Good to know.

The thing with me is, this is not the first time it’s happened. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve given so much of myself to someone, only for them to forget about me in the end. I know people come and go, I know sometimes you are just a passerby. I like the train station theory that says people are just passengers in your life and they can get on and off at any station. I haven’t found a way to make it hurt less yet. And honestly, most of the time I feel somewhat wronged. With these work friends for example, we celebrated Christmas and birthdays together, I got drunk with them for the first time because I felt safe with them, I traveled to go see a concert with one of them, they were part of my inner circle for that while. And then suddenly they decide they don’t want that anymore? And don’t even talk to me about it, they just stop inviting me to things, stop messaging, stop trying. It’s like you’ve been drifting away at sea but they were your lifejacket and suddenly it’s not there anymore and you go back to drowning - disoriented, confused and scared.

I’m fine without them, I am because at the end of the way we were close for less than a year. I just fear one day this will happen with someone I give my whole self, my whole heart and soul to. I can’t bear to think I’ll meet someone, get completely attached, only for them to eventually decide enough’s enough. Hence why I don’t want to try dating, too.

It often made me wonder if I was the problem. There was this Brazilian guy that helped me out the first few weeks I was new at a Portuguese school. He was the first person who talked to me, who insisted on inviting me to sit next to him every day, who invited me to do things outside of school. He said Brazilians immigrants should help each other. He got himself a girlfriend, which I encouraged him to do by the way, and suddenly I wasn’t worth all the effort anymore. And I spend over a year agonizing, trying to understand what I did wrong. I never confronted him because I’ve always been a scaredy cat like that and we weren’t close enough for me to feel comfortable to freely speak to him about my feelings. But turns out I did nothing wrong, he just didn’t want to be my friend anymore.

We live in societies that put romantic relationships above any other (except familial ones) all the time. Romantic partner are expected to become your family eventually too, so of course you must prioritize them over your friends. But I’ve held friendships for longer than a lot of people kept their romantic partners. My childhood best friend, my first friend ever at the age of three - we don’t talk so often anymore but she’s still my friend, its been twenty years. I know she’s finishing up her bachelors degree in Europe, she’s either in Paris or Italy by now. My current best friend, we’re approaching a decade of friendship even though she lives in Brazil and I’m over here in Portugal. We talk every day. I can absolutely die without a romantic partner but dying with them would be the same as me dying without a heart.

I deeply resent the notion I and others like me will die unloved and alone if we don’t build a family the way society wants us to. And I don’t want to be become guarded, I don’t want to put my heart in a cage, lock it with seven keys and throw away in an ocean I can’t reach. I don’t want to put up walls so high no one would be willing to try to climb it. I want to love freely and be loved the same way. I don’t want to be questioned on my feelings for someone, especially someone of the male sex, if I’m worried about their health, if I notice their absence, if I express how much I like their presence. I don’t want to exist in this world that romanticizes and puts importance only Storge and Eros while ignoring some of the other types the Ancient Greeks spoke of.

I understand I have to be more selective with who I let in, I do. I just wish I didn’t. I might not even be a good enough judge.

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witch,

you have been judged

as you are guilty of being born in a body

which tempts the good sir

guilty of morally corrupting the good sir

guilty of not being as good

as the good sir

witch,

the devil which you worship

is corrupting the good woman too

is stealing our good children

is destroying our good society

witch,

we burn you at the stake

so you can take your devil with you

and all the corruption its brought

we drive you out of our good society

so we can be safe from your influence

witch,

you cannot blame us

for the problems you have caused us

you cannot blame us

for defending ourselves

witch, you knew this was your fate

you know this to be fair

good sir,

if my crime is only being

born with this body you say is so tempting

is it not your crime to be so tempted 

by something I am not even attempting to do?

oh such a good sir,

the devil of my worship you speak of

where do you see it?

in our good children,

in our good woman and our good men?

how is that a good society then?

what a good sir you are, good sir

tallying up all my so called crimes

so you can put me to die among the flames you created

to apease your own mind of a problem you invented

my so very good sir,

I can and I will blame all of it on you

as you have been doing to me

would you not say that this is only fair?

1

the devil has a human face
you've seen it before
you walk past it every day on your way to the grocery store
on your way to school university, home
you see it online
every time you scroll on social media site
and a celebrity shows up

the devil can smile, you know?
they can look at you with kind eyes,
they can beam at you and make you feel good
the devil can also cry
they can also feel sorrow and hurt
they can also care about some else, something else
and watch it leave them

the devil dreams and the devil hopes
sometimes they dream and hope about terrible things
sometimes about lovely things
sometimes about trivial things 

the devil can shake your hand and hug you,
ask about your parents, your child, your friends, you
they can be charming and sweet,
they can make you laugh, they can make you sob
they can be your friend, your family
someone you've come to love
and who might claim to love you too

the devil can lie or tell the truth
and you wouldn't know which is it until too late

the devil is not any less human than you
don't mythologize it simply because you wish it not to be so
simply because it's easier to accept it as an ancient evil,
unseen and untouched,
rather than recognizing we are all capable of it

1

this poem was loosely inspired by ’s piece Epstein, Baal and Mass Hysteria. The recasting of the Damned, please go give it a read

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an untouchable feeling I have in my chest,

a forever promise unable to be kept.

my devotee calls me by name

to summon my grace and favor,

making it their own.

my devotee cries at the feet of my grave,

bows at the feet of my statue

and dies at the feet of my temple.

my devotee has never seen my face

never heard my voice,

never felt my touch.

still their heart and mind are mine,

mine to govern, mine to mold.

my devotee...

tell me, who is the divine?

my devotee,

you make me feel my own humanity,

and question my own divinity

.1

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A moment settles,
And touches what I thought lied inside my chest
Limp and weak,
Sore and beaten,
b r o k e n.

A heart pulses,
Slow, tentative,
Nearly undetected,
yet there, and strong.
It’s almost painful,
it’s been a few years too many.

Have me,
my own body whispers,
hold me and never let go,
drag me whever you wish,
I will let you.

Even when it stings,
a simple touch makes every thought in my head vanish,
And instead of lost in my own mind,
I am lost in you.

Lips on mine,
soft, steady,
ready to take me,
plunging into a deep ocean,
and instead of swimming to shore,
I relax,
I take a breath,
I let it pull me.
Because I could drown in this.

This which feels like a sunrise after years of snow,
This which feels like rest for exhausted bones,
This which has always been my most awaited surrender.

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