Price of Nice — Jaded
He smiled when they cursed, bowed when they mocked, gave when it hurt, and never once balked. He listened too long, spoke softly in storms, offered his coat when the world wasn’t warm. They called him a saint, “A good one, a light,” but shadows grow long…
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…
The Syllabus of Existing — Jaded
Oh, the grand cosmic joke we keep trying to annotate like it’s some holy textbook— we spend our days decoding meaning like it’s buried treasure, but darling, if we’re all still searching, doesn’t that prove the damn thing matters? Case closed, Your…
You’ll Figure It Out. Sure. — Jaded
Power move. Pretend to have a plan. Cue the usual chaos. Melancholy with a soundtrack— tragedy scored in a minor key, wrapped in poetic nonsense. Every breakdown gets its own climax. Every heartbreak, a metaphor. Cute. And in the end? It’s all just…
Faded Echoes (a script) — Jaded
(A dimly lit room. The narrator sits at a desk, scribbling thoughts into a notebook. Outside, rain taps against the window, but his gaze is fixed inward.) NARRATOR (laughing dryly to himself) You ever wonder if life’s just one big joke we’ve all been too…
Inferno — Phoenix Heart
My heart is ticking its last breath for a cause from years ago, no longer shedding a tear, but quenching the flames of anger before your satire becomes a satanic regret.
Faded Echoes — Jaded
The rain taps against my window, a rhythm of forgotten thoughts. I was someone once, or maybe still, buried under the weight of “what ifs.” Hope flickers— but it always fades. And so do I, into the grayness of another night. The echoes of what I could…
Haha. Life, Bby — Phoenix Heart
If we’re always trying to figure out its meaning, isn’t that enough validation to close the case? Hahah, life, baby! Memories are statues. Memories are staircases, creating beautiful masterpieces. The coursework is a uniquely beautiful, torturous journey…
Hammer — Phoenix Heart
Laughter pounds during the climax of a depressed journey, traveling back in time. The past resurfaces. Laughter pounds, dismissing the wreckage. “Less is always more”— it’s what he was taught.
Describe one habit that brings you joy. — Journal Entries 2023
A morning cigarette, and the thought of having a joint right after.