Sickness — Jaded
Bowing down to the uncertainty of unconditional surrender, shifting down, shivering through the crowded body I’m left carrying, pulling at the strings that are holding me up while fighting the cruelty of my own maker. Teardrops fall like a rainstorm…
Just It — Jaded
Loneliness isn’t the right word for my distance. And calling me a poet— well, that doesn’t mean love will find me. When you hear opinions, assumptions, mediocrity, you learn to brush off their tracks— yes, tracks. Because sometimes you have to go back…
Time: The Gift That Keeps Screaming — Jaded
It doesn’t just whisper its secrets. It slams down on the table like an old friend who’s had too much to drink— a few scars, some bruised memories, and just enough bitterness to leave you wondering if you ever really knew who you were. The gift it leaves…
Essence of Others — Jaded
Carrying the weight of broken discharge, blood-tears from a heart used and undone, categorized by the enders of whispering plants, puddling up with splashes of memories. Hazy air brushes the backdrop, fluttering with hazel dew. I break beneath the…
I Can Sit There — Jaded
I can sit there— give you everything. Knowledge, hands that help, even a roof when storms hit. And what did you do? You got comfy in the riddles I gave you— “Give him an inch, let’s see if I can run a mile.” So you tried. Oh, I saw. And I sat there. Sat…
The Anti-Hero Handbook — Jaded
Oh, why stir the pot, then cry when it’s hot— play the anti-hero like it’s some grand plot? 2025? Yeah, I’ll set the scene, watch the world burn, then call it routine. But hey, don’t play victim when you lit the fuse, then hand out sob stories like…
The Momentum — Jaded
The mountains I climbed to reach my destination left me on my knees, praying to the heavens for strength to complete this worn-out path— a journey through repeating routes, endless cycles, and roadblocks I once thought were impassable. When I give myself…
Should’ve Pulled the Trigger When You Had the Chance — Jaded
the Chance My soul drifts from its capsule, slipping into pictures of sticks and stones, fresh off a cleansing—curses still smoldering. Healing? A lie I tell myself while writing a script where I’m both the sinner and the priest. A donor of evil, smiling…
Press — Jaded
They spent more time backstabbing him, with insecurities plain as day. Yet the audience gathered. Were they feathered or what? The nest got bigger, migrating more and more— hatred, conniving, and shifting became the wreckage of missed mistakes. …Who’s…
Ever Hear Yourself Walk Away from Your Body? — Jaded
Body? Ever hear yourself walk away from your body? Yeah— that’s the first sign of pitching a pity party. It begins with a howl to your own pack, begging them to assess the emotional damages they inflicted. The scar? It hijacks your process every time you…