𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓷,
𝓶𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻 –
𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮
𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻? — 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓸 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓶
𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽.

𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽
𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓲𝔁 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝔂
𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝔂
𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 — 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻 — 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷
𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓸 𝓸𝓷
𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮.

Posted in ink

evening sky

i stared up at the moon,

it’s soft yellow light illuminating the surrounding sky,

bringing into contrast the nearby dancing stars.

around me was nothing but a thick blanket of darkness

and i found myself slowly engulfed by it,

as i lay down

on the damp grass

to face the evening sky

Posted in ink


I wake up to sky as blue as ice cream, wilderness encircles me. I am the wind and the trees, my limbs are ice-melted streams. The birds tell of all that they’ve seen, rabbits run around my feet, everything smells like mint and cypress. Here, my tongue is an autumn leaf. I am safe and I am far away. My past can’t touch me here; nothing can. I beling tonthe forest, I am a dryad: unknown and nameless. I fall asleep to the crisp frosty air, the night sky is an aquarium above me, I dive in and become a fish and seep into the stars.

Posted in ink

it’s okay

sometimes, it’s okay to gazeat full moon while on a long bus ride and dream with your eyes open.

sometimes, it’s okay to feel poetic and express your inner self, and it’s okay not to feel lonely or suffer solititude but to be a chatter box.

it’s okay to act like a wild child when someone very close is around or want to just be carefree.

Best of all it’s okay to have dream to be a part of a story or any beautiful book in which you will live happily ever after.

Sometimes, it’s okay to dream like an idiot.

Dream about anything. Dream about life and let the child within you dream. Let it free!

Let it free.

Let it scream and hold for a moment to hear that echoing sound that bounces back from the past.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.


Art by; nintooner

Posted in ink


Reaching out,

trying so hard

but my hands just can’t.

everytimeI give up something

reminds me of why I started,

and I try again

and again

but again

it seems that

I am failing.

Then I lost myself

while reaching out.

It’s breaking me into pieces

but I will keep trying

just to reach out.

art: clipartmag

Posted in ink


We are all complicated.

Since when was being complicated a bad thing? Isn’ that supposed to be a good thing?

Complicated: consisting of many interconnecting parts.

I mean if you think about what’s wrong with having many parts or sections in your mind, your personality, or thought process. Will youn find anything?

If you imagine a world where everyone is called “not complicated”, everyone would seem to be dumb and empty headed.

Art by: Trina Merry

Posted in ink