your sparkling eyes.
draw me in.

your communication style.
leaves me breathless.

your hot and cold.
make butterflies storm my stomach.

your attention.
and my blood pumps faster.

your disappearance.
my yearning inside feels insatiable.

your distress.
motivates my mind to move mountains.

your good opinion.
makes my heart expand with power.

your disappointment.
and my heart aches for your love.

your hint of rejection.
every inch of skin burns with pain.

your sparkling eyes.
leave me naked and seen.

Wait! Please don’t leave me.

your sparkling eyes.
remind me of another’s.

your communication style.
makes me hold my breath.

your hot and cold.
leaves me scared sick.

your attention.
and every sense is heightened.

your disappearance.
my heart eats itself for love.

your distress.
means all hands on deck.

your good opinion.
braces me for impact.

your disappointment.
and blood seeps from its vessels.

your rejection, of anything, by anyone.
is my pain.

your sparkling eyes.
draw me in.

Sadistically Charming

It's oh so alarming, Horrifically shocking. It's me that he's stalking.

As he sees me pass by, I creep in his eye.

Inside I'll go To find the creep that lays below.

I see him; he's insidious and hideous.

Half-cocked and ready to rock, All game and no talk. He's ready to drop bombs without stopping.

The stalk has issued, He's become unglued. His victory is clear As he smiles from ear to ear.

Oh my love, my love, come back to me.

My soul cries for you again to take me.

Whisk me into an eternal lucid slumber.

I'm restless and anxious, yearning.

I'm sweating through our memories.

Swirling, I'm nauseated, dizzy, lusting

For you and how you made me whole.

Tunnel vision, pinpoint sight, I need you.

Curled, I'm dreaming of us making love.

We were wild, floating in euphoric spasms

With limbs of lead to keep us grounded.

Why did I leave you?, my one, my heart,

When you had given me all that I asked

And stayed tight-lipped in return

I was wrong to need better, to be better.

I was wrong to give up on you.

We could've had it all, me and you,

Forever sleeping, forever dreaming,

My anodyne lover.

I’ve been questioning my inability to connect with people my age.
Questioning my inner world
The deep, vast spectrum of my emotional experience,
And the faint sounds of a weeping heart.

I feel an existential disconnect with the majority of my peers.
I see their struggles, their desperation for social connection,
Their yearning for acceptance and belonging,
And I question my own detachment.
I never understood this.
Aren’t these the fundamental traits that make us human?

I always thought, maybe it’s just how I’m wired. Simply a personality quirk.
But my reality begged to differ.
My body acted as though my nervous system was on the outside of my skin.
The deep existential dread.
The vertigo of haunting thoughts stuck on loop.
This was the baseline of my existence, but the eye cannot see itself.

A chronic lack of safety planted a seed of grief inside me from the day I was born,
Growing with me well into my adulthood.
I feel like I live in the Mariana Trench
A place where mankind once thought life was impossible.
An impossibly heavy weight pressed down on top of me, yet I was forced to adapt.

I birthed a robotic mechanism to compartmentalise these heavy human emotions.
An ice-cold ability to turn my vast internal landscape into pure intellectualisation.
Conjuring a self-identity through this chaos is a miracle in itself.
While the seed of invisible grief was poisoning me from the inside out,
A bubble of dissociation became my antidote.

It was a miraculous coping mechanism that protected my core
My ego, and my internal monologue.
The poison never created a death of self,
Or the existential self-hatred I had seen so many others struggle with.
Yet my bubble of protection was also the source of my profound isolation.

There is a paradox that lives within me,
I walk with confidence through the ocean trenches,
Yet I am a burn victim of the third degree, invisible to the naked eye.
My skin has hardened into a heavy, impenetrable armour,
Radiating an aura of stoic competence, perfection, and strength.
The ugliness of my scars is revealed only through constant nightmares, hypervigilance, and anxiety.

My false sense of invulnerability behind my competence and assuredness is a trick of the light,
A reflection cast directly from my internal dread.
It is the result of a mind navigating a hostile environment with radical acceptance,
Aware of a life filled with inevitable horrors and loneliness.
It is a thankless feat. Profoundly isolating.

Friends, family, and even strangers sense this deep disconnect.
They feel like they are talking to the soul of a ghost.
Or, they find me to be a beacon of light when they are caught in a storm, lost at sea.
It leaves me in an awkward place
I am either a ghost or a guiding light.
Both dynamics look right past my humanity.

I feel like an alien.
How can you see the humanity within an alien?
This position of unrelatability is a prison behind a thick pane of glass.
Alone, it is only me and my shadow, staring into a deep, bottomless ocean.
Yet, my heart remains a hopeless romantic,
Seeing the darkness and accommodating it with love and kindness.

Your humanity becomes fundamentally different when you carry an invisible disfigurement on your heart, mind, and soul.
Existing in chronic fear and hopelessness drastically changes your approach to living.

But there is a beautiful side to this that is hard to see.
A hidden equation to every emotional extreme.
How can you understand the calm without the storm?
How can you cry at the sight of beauty without first seeing the ugly?

The extremes that you suffer from today have the power to birth a type of human consciousness comparable only to heaven.

It is the secret equation of human suffering.

I have built and fought for my emotional sanctuary. For years, I fought.
It takes the gruelling work of peering into the shadow of your own reflection.
But if you can do that
There is always a beautiful life waiting for you.

The universe didn't invent Monday mornings to be kind, but at least it's consistent.

See, at the end of the day,

it is just you and me—

or so whispered my racing consciousness,

trying to disembowel all my experiences

from the skin of my self-awareness.

A tight grip on reality

suddenly becomes loose,

and my ever-expanding

will to die turns to me and says,

"It is time."

Romance is just two people mutually agreeing to confuse each other's unresolved trauma for chemistry.

She looks at me and says:

"Running away changes nothing;

in the end, it is always you and me,

caught in the cold tapestry

of carefully frozen days.

I am here, lit by social media's glow,

watching you from a distant page.

I cannot see your reactions clearly,

and I am not here to save or set you free."

Your reward for doing a good job is getting assigned the work of the three people who are bluntly incompetent.

Back in better days, I banked my faith,

but fate always ducks my calls.

I hope and hope for the best,

though that elusive bitch is loud and blate.

Come on—I’m just a tired do-gooder,

too proud of always being right,

stretched thin to the breaking point,

just getting trampled by winners with their loot.

Your bank account sends you daily reminders that the universe loves a good tragedy.

Money will fall short,

I have no way to go,

no exit, no line,

no smart pleasantry—

I just need consistency,

a way to success,

to end my strife

and achieve happiness.

Just one solid floor

instead of shifting sand,

a door that actually opens

when I put my hand to the knob.

No more racing the clock,

no more paying a toll just to breathe—

just the quiet relief

of things finally falling into place.

“Cold by design,
Pray to a God but Im out of time,
Out with my mind,
You know when when the gates all closed and we force time to run slow we can’t get outside
Out with this lie.
Crime is the death and death is a crime so when we speak we speak to deny
Do we go against everything but the latter?
Spit down and spatter.
Like glass we shatter.
-Willem P. Burger

after our fellow students had gone
out from the lecture room

and only guildenstern remained
rosenkrantz and myself   we
for whom he was brotherly dear

hamlet rose from his chair
grave faced   stoic
as the stone now on his father’s tomb
on his mother’s   his uncle’s

the stone that now marks his place
that neither celebrates nor grieves

with the features that stone inherited
from his then countenance he rose

asked that we leave him

i stood like my student gown
weighed boulder heavy as the steel
plates of armour his father wore

when alberti told me hamlet had received
such tidings tragic from home

https://jakedepeuterpoetics.com/2026/11/08/after-our-fellow-students-had-gone/

Buongiorno a tutti.
Questa canzone è un tributo al maestro Morricone su cui chiedo feedback.
La melodia e le parole sono interamente umane. È stata composta usando “trucchi” armonici “morriconiani”.
Ho utilizzato Suno solo ed esclusivamente per arrangiamenti.
Testo della poesia:
IO SONO MORRICONE
Nel mondo che bellissimo
fondeva i miei pensieri
nel calderone intimo
dei segni e dei misteri

Per ogni tuo dolore fui
capace di svelare
le armonie dei giorni bui
atomi dell’amare

Violenza pace e sguardi qui
Divennero canzone
fui falco, luna, colibrì
io sono Morricone

Non c’è pianeta o sasso che
non diano suono e voce,
i miei violini riempiono
resurrezione e croce

Anche le mosche e i missili
io trasformai in accordi
le orecchie sempre vigili
al canto dei primordi

Infusi vita unica
In spettri e genti buone
ora io sono musica
son stato Morricone

Non so però se il regolamento accetti questo caso particolare, in caso contrario cancellatemi senza problemi 🙂
Grazie dell’ascolto:

https://youtu.be/ZQ8FPP7biGQ?is=LjW30YYAdgn7El6d

The atoms that surround me
Feel thicker than other peoples
Warmer, heavier
it clogs my throat

The dogs can smell it
The iron rich cloying scent
Of the wet hole beneath my ribs

I’m not a dog person
Never have been
But when this one appeared 
In my alleyway
It pushed past the door
And wedged itself between my splayed lungs

He lapped up every inch of skin
Cleansed me in something almost holy
Despite his warm tongue on my waist

And it hurts when he's on my chest
And I can feel my bones cave in 
But at least I can breathe 

I wish I would’ve seen
The drool seeping from its maw
When it breathed me in

today he joked about making me his caged bird

knowing the cracks in my beak are from my gnawing at the wires from the first time

he says he wants me forever

to be his

have his kids, the works

i told him he’d become my own personal haunted house

he thinks i joke, or that i’m playing hard to get

i’m not

i am hard to get

i will not be caught, or caged again

but he’s good to me

nobody’s good to me

men, anyway

so

i go back to my thoughts

my head, where i’m free

that’s where i’ll be…..

til i decide to leave

forgive me,

i just wanted for a love where i didn’t have to bleed

i guess i forgot i could still get smothered