a cold hash brown.

 there’s a method to madness. but not all methods are justifiable. i’m writing this, deprived of sleep, starving and needing a breakthrough, lol. i genuinely don’t know what this future of mine holds. hell, i barely know what this day holds. this vicious cycle of mine has to break at some point. don’t know when, but it’s storming outside and my only safe haven at the moment is a McDonald’s with a pavilion. i don’t have the energy or wherewithal to dress anything up with fancy jargon at the moment. nothing i feel like i can do or am doing needs any of that. i need peace. i need sanctity. i need more than this world can offer, that’s for sure. maybe i need to be left alone. maybe ill feel differently if i can get some sleep. i read a few hours ago about how sleep deprivation cause your brain to eat away at itself. that may explain where my mind has gone. it’s literally just gone at this point. i hope i can find an orange juice or something.

common side effects.

 death brings clarity. when things are as finite as life is, you come to terms with how you got to where you are when you know you aren’t gonna be here much longer. i feel like im getting closer and closer to that point. in the midst of constant anxiety, fear, uncertainty, confusion… there’s a sense of calm in the middle of the whirlwind. as life continues to pass by, day by day, not knowing Monday from Friday.. 2025 feels like it. my golden birthday last year felt like fool’s gold. like there’s a deeper meaning to all this, but my interpretation differs from everyone else’s. maybe what i’m meant to do with the rest of my time from hereonin is make sure the lives of the people that choose to have me around, is easier for now.. and subsequently after im gone. maybe my mind will change. maybe my heart will slow down. maybe my spirit will discover there’s more to it than this. but the thing is, i already know there’s more to this. 

just not here. 

♥️

- TG3

i forgot about you. (March 2025)

lost in the tirade of being lost.

the sea brushing me further away from the shore.

rushed into a cyclone, fighting to stay grounded.

faces i once knew, no longer familiar.

heart beat racing.

body slowing down.

words don’t help.

not like i used to think they did.

sometimes the complexities of your existence

derail you from your intended destinations.

how often do we find

that life’s detours

are probably what we had in store for us

the entire time

as much as life isn’t linear

how long we exist isn’t pre-determined

at least, that’s what i’d like to think

it’s only so many times

we start over

and over, and over, and over

before restarting feels like failure

how many coins do we have

to keep putting in the arcade

til seeing “game over” repeatedly

feels like a death sentence?

just another aspect of us

every single day

the chaos of it all

the mistakes we make

eventually

it completes whatever story we write

even if we hate the ending 

- DD3

elise lam.

 2024 is a few weeks away. i'm 3 months removed from turning 30. and i feel i've reverted back to the feelings i've experienced back when i was 17. the feelings of... not feeling. everything that should invoke emotions in me or out of me rather, doesn't. 

this isn't the beginning of a suicide note. but it's a declaration of a solar flare being shot in the sky of a populated city where no one bothers to look up. too preoccupied in the here, now, and near future. THEIR here, now, and near future. whatever retribution is taking place, wherever it's taking place, has no intention of allowing me to see what everyone else does. things are just happening. and i have to adjust to the fact that there's nothing more or less to be done about it. if you read this, i hope you find the time to tell someone in your life that they matter. i hope you can MAKE time to remind someone that their existence is something that should be treated as delicately and preciously as the reality of how quickly it can... well, cease. 

cease to exist. right.

- TG3

HBK. June 2023.

Back to the drawing board

Nothin to draw with

A blank canvas, worn in places

Torn in certain pieces

Staring back at me as if

I’m the issue

Like I’m the reason

It isn’t in its best shape

 

But the more I look at it

The more I realize how much

The canvas and I have in common

Nothing I’d like to admit

Yet accountability gotta be held

And there’s nobody to blame

The canvas is just here

 

I look at the canvas a bit more

That’s when I start to see faces

The faces of the people that

I don’t see anymore

The people that, at one point,

Held a great amount of weight

Took a great amount of space

In my life, someway. Somehow.

 

Yet they don’t stay there long

Almost as quick as a gust of wind blows

They were there, and then they were gone

Then there were their voices

Almost melding together to make a universal chant

All saying different things, but almost like a choir

A choir with no direction, yet in unison

 

The more I stared, the more faces meshed

The more voices, the louder they got

It became an antagonizing chant

Like they were all trying to tell me the same thing

While it all managed to turn into a crippling sound

 

Closing my eyes and ears only help so much

As if restricting myself from the sights and sounds

Made them revolt and turn into nearly blood curdling noises

That’s when I decided the board had to come down

one swing of my fist, and it broke in half

Everything went quiet

It was just me and a broken, blank board

Did I feel better afterward? Somewhat.

Doesn’t change the fact that now,

The canvas is in two.

A remnant of what it once was

As a whole

Same way the heart I’ve carried

For almost 30 years now

Has been trying to feel whole

When it’s only felt broken up to this point

 

 - DD3

jenny white road.

 secluded.

there's a breeze that passes, grazing my skin

in the off chance i show my face outside

the more you blink, the more you miss

feels as though my blinks have kept my eyes closed

a lot longer than they needed to

when you've grown but feel smaller in stature

age weighing more in your face

lack of time weighing more on your grace

there's healing to be done

there's peace to be had

but the tree in my front yard

always blocks the sun

as if it doesn't rise as high as it once did

and me, secluded

i refuse to move

when you become swallowed 

by what's supposedly your safe haven

where else can you go?

- DD3

paper, wait. July 2022.

 I never thought i'd reach the point

when i was scared to write again.

so many words to say

that feel more like paper cuts

than pieces of truth

the same paper that i wrote love notes on

the dry blood being my personal signature

putting my own health at a detriment

in the hopes that these same words

find you in a better place

than i was when i etched them down

damp spots in random places

where tears found themselves soaking in

and absorbing the ink 

as if they wanted to know what pushed me

to write all this down

truth of the matter is

it doesn't matter indeed

these are the words that no one else

will ever read

words that i never felt safe to share

so as i wrote out my pain

my body felt the need to help me out

by staining those same words

with the remnants of who i used to be

- TG3