"Staring at a screen, wondering if it’s staring back. Typing words"
20y old, my soul feels it’s been through three midlife crises
Last active:
SpaceHey Blog URL:
https://blog.spacehey.com/kkiko
Category: Writing and Poetry
Do you know what it feels like to drown on dry land? It starts with a whisper. A thought. A memory. And then it’s everywhere. The air is gone. My chest is a cage, and my heart is a wild animal trying to break free. My lungs are empty, but I can’t fill them. I’m gasping, choking, suffocating—but no one hears. No one sees. Do you know what it’s like to feel the walls closing in when there are no wal... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
The child sits by the window, waiting. The child doesn’t know yet. Doesn’t know that the world is a knife, that love is a wound, that time is a thief. The child sits by the window, watching the rain, and dreams of tomorrow. "When I grow up," the child says, "I’ll be happy. I’ll be free. I’ll be loved." The child doesn’t see the cracks in the walls. Doesn’t hear the whispers in the dark. Doesn’t fe... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
Inequality isn’t a statistic. It’s a child’s hollow eyes as they dig through trash for food. It’s a mother’s broken back, bent under the weight of three jobs and still drowning in debt. It’s the stench of despair that clings to the air on the wrong side of the tracks—thick, suffocating, inescapable. Discrimination isn’t a policy. It’s a boot on a neck. It’s the curl of a lip, the sneer in a voice,... » Continue Reading
— 1 Comment— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
I am past, present, and future, oozing into one another like rancid honey dripping from a corpse’s split belly. I am not bounded by time I am the infection that eats through it. I exist and do not exist, a paradox of maggots squirming in the corpse of eternity. If you could do anything, unshackled by limits, what would you become? A god? A tumor? Without the risk of failure, achievement is just de... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
I used to think time was linear. A straight line from birth to death, with milestones neatly marked along the way. But now I know better. Time is a spiral. It loops back on itself, dragging me through the same moments over and over again. The same regrets. The same hopes. The same questions with no answers. I’ve spent years chasing time, try » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
Art. Dried blood on canvas, smeared like a crime scene. Bones rearranged into verse, cracked open to spill marrow onto the page. I don’t make art to be understood—I make it so I don’t implode. Every brushstroke is a piece of my soul ripped out and hurled against the wall, hoping it sticks, hoping it makes sense to someone, anyone, even if it’s just me. Sometimes, it works. Sometimes, I stare at wh... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
I’ve been in love. Or at least, I think I have. Love doesn’t come with a manual or a label. It just crashes into your life like a storm, uninvited, and leaves you scrambling to make sense of the wreckage. And when it leaves—when they leave—you’re left picking up the pieces, wondering if it was ever real or just some cruel trick your heart played on you. I’ve tried to love the way they tell you to ... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
Happy? Happy is a word for people who haven’t seen the abyss. I have everything, I have the world in my pocket, a universe of knowledge and connection and possibility. But it’s all too much. It’s all too little. I scroll and swipe and click, and each time I do, I feel a piece of myself chip away, lost to the void of endless choice. We were promised freedom, but instead, we got convenience. We were... » Continue Reading
— 4 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
Shoutout to those who lick rust from bridges and laugh as their tongues bleed iron. Those who worship the grids, the cables, the humming veins of cities that pulse with a love so violent it scalds the sky. Every cell tower is a cathedral spire, every data center a mausoleum of our collective longing. We erect them not to conquer, but to scream: Look how we ache for you! Look how we gut forests, po... » Continue Reading
Report User
