Andres

Yet still I tried, again, again,
To find the pulse in what had been.

-mimic

Diving into Nature's masterpiece.

But instead,
you’re just another lesson
in how silence can be loud
and privacy
should never be begged for.

-mimic

Trust is not a gift,
It’s a mirror—fragile, earned.
And you, through shadows,
Let a third’s whispers pierce
What should have been sacred.

-owl

The moon hangs, half-aware,
ghost-thin above the drift,
while steel scribes lines in air.

-infatuated

The face I wear is a work of art.
Conceals the wonders of the painter’s might.

The stories we are—like the silk of your hand.
I weave it all, and I know where to cut.
 
The lord of lies, prisoner of time.
Stitches can’t heal a broken heart.

-owl

You touched me first —
a whisper dressed in gasoline,
lit the first tile with your smile
and watched me burn obscene.

-infatuated

Do you really know my rhythm?
This is just a drop of narcissism.

-Wednesday

Dominoes never ask who fell first —
just who pushed through.

-mimic

Marvellous past times where light prevails.
Rocks and stars are flying through the cosmic void.
Immeasurable probability where life is unveiled.
Space and time are warped by my own toys.

-owl

Ignorance is bliss

-mimic

Grown accustomed to the ways of home.
Phrases and songs splashed my white clothes.
Sickening is the behaviour of those ashore
Frame the group but only one’s dull.

- owl

Now, go on. I’ll dissolve your blindness
 
Tell me, What do you wish to know?

-infatuated

Those astray from the correct mood.
So obvious, but you can’t get a clue.

-ongoing

Wanderers in every corner of space.
Writing rhythms of cosmos.

-doomscrolling

Turning on the oldest program at hand.
Reality engine: humans_run terra_mater.

-Wednesday

Prefrontal cortex reasoning vs. limbic lust

-doomscrolling

Can rain be more than inspiration for fire?

-Wednesday

I’m blue but not like the skies. I wither.
With no caretakers around, the garden shrinks.
As I fall, my colours bleed.
“Can’t be saved”, the rain screamed.

The plant III

-Mimic

No comment

-doomscrolling

The face I wear, work of art.
Conceal the wonders, painter’s might.

-ongoing

Aren’t we all?

-Wednesday

My many arms touch the skies. I breathe.
The shadow I cast is everyone’s home.
I fight for space, though I am alone.
I’m powerful, I’m powerless.

The plant - II

-Mimic

Cold mornings with clear skies. I look up.
Wind on my skin, I'm feeling alive.
If only I knew my journey’s path.
I wish I knew, I really do.

The plant

-mimic

Like an angioplasty going to the core to get the embolus.

Back to the beginning, to understand the end.

-infatuated

Right on sight, the eagle’s determination
was the only truth deserving pity.
Nothing to be grabbed by its claws
nor anything resembling feelings.

-mimic

Beyond power, the eagle’s imagination
was the only creator of landmarks.
Scouting even in dry soil,
It issued an attack, even critters ran.

If I go outside, what will be my name?

-mimic

From dawn to dusk,
breeze helps me see through the mist.
Soundless. Nothing disturbs the view.
The mystery of nature can’t be obscured.
 
I’m hearing a calling, there’s an owl in the balcony.

-wednesday

My domains are huge, and sometimes there's war.
Sticks and stones at the gates of my home.
They seek to find my lovely soul.
Yet, they all end as slaves, mine like gold.

-ongoing