Young Bud

The sea wells up, the cages constrict

Surrounded by white noise

I am deaf and I am blind

To the 100 needles stabbing into me

It squeezes. Releases. Squeezes. Releases.

As though I’m a criminal and

Them the interrogators

As though giving love is such a crime —

I’m bound for the execution grounds

Are young buds to be killed

Though they may grow into weeds?

Should love be considered love

If they elicit anything but love?

With a final squeeze the cages crush

And though the young bud knows of it’s eventuality

It chose to lock itself in solitude and throw away the key

And though it’s growth was short-lived

It cherishes the minute happiness that came along with it.

– a.h.


My heart skips. My heart stops. My heart crashes. 

You bear in silence, suffer in silence, and therefore will ultimately die in silence too. 

” Come on skinny love just last the year, pour a little salt we were never here. My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer. ” – Skinny Love, Bon Iver

Tell me what’s going on in your mind — why won’t you let me understand?


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