“Eggs on Ice“
She calls it freedom—
seven eggs locked in steel,
tagged with a barcode,
waiting for a man worth breaking the seal.
She calls it empowerment—
but in truth,
she bought delay.
Time to oscillate
between doing nothing,
waiting to be found,
and app-fueled dating sprees
with men just like her:
polished, ambitious,
emotionally elsewhere.
Not lovers—
co-performers
in a theatre
of polite detachment.
An inbox of newsletters
tells her she’s enough—
if she just optimizes
a little more.
She followed the script:
career, independence,
hobbies without conviction.
Now she waits
in a modern-woman cocoon
for the knight she crafted:
six feet,
six figures,
defined jawlines, no flaws.
Who cares about values,
shared dreams,
or building a future together—
when she deserves the fantasy?
Before parting ways
at the end of wine-soaked nights,
she and her friends chant:
we don’t need men anyway.
No, she won’t do the work.
No mirror.
No therapy.
No reckoning.
No unpacking
of childhood wounds
that kept her stuck in the loop.
The algorithm keeps feeding her dreams.
But reality stopped matching the promise.
Deep down, she fears
the man on her curated list
would never choose her.
Too rigid.
Too old.
Too emotionally undercooked.
She wouldn’t know how to open,
how to soften,
how to speak from the heart
if he knocked on her door
with flowers.
Because the real tragedy
isn’t the eggs on ice.
It’s the fact that no one told her
the freezing wasn’t a solution.
It was a symptom.
Another polished lie
in the long, sad tradition
of society messing with women—
again,
and again,
and again.
“They are not gonna love you”
Stop trying, bending and shrinking
to fit their expectations.
They’re not gonna love you anyway—
not the way you crave,
not until you love yourself first—
raw, real, born into chaos
yet embracing your endless possibilities.
You’ll stumble, fall short,
miss the targets you believed your life depended on,
but still, trust the process and whisper:
I love you anyway.
Unconditionally.
Like you’re your own kid,
your own parent,
rewriting the script
to make peace with the hand you were dealt.
The ones who broke you?
You’ll thank them.
Not today. Not tomorrow.
But the day you wake up whole—
fearless, pouring love like currency
without checking the balance.
Time collapses, love compounds,
breaking free from scarcity and linearity.
That’s when they come.
Drawn to your gravity.
Because you’re not a void anymore—
you’re a damn sun.
Radiating, magnetic,
not to be completed but to expand—
a quantum entanglement of love.
So stop chasing.
They’re not gonna love you.
But you will—
a little more every day,
with every quiet act of kindness.
Turning fear into faith,
self-doubt into certainty.
And that’s the only way out.
“Conflict”
Cynicism corners collective consciousness,
clouding clarity, cultivating confusion.
Chaos creeps, crisis cascades,
chasing causes, calculating collateral.
Cameras capture curated carnage,
concealing cruelty, casting confusion.
Children cry, caught in crossfire,
collateral to commanders craving control.
Collapse, crumble, carry on—
can compassion combat cold-heartedness?
Commanders celebrate conquest,
constructing cages, cementing compliance.
Completely clueless crowds
chained in crafted chaos,
choke, craving change, cursing chance.
Contradiction culture conquers,
cheats, conceals, conspires with conviction.
Clueless crowds—
captured, cornered,
crushed in cyclical cruelty.
Children cry, caged, condemned,
collateral casualties of “conflict,”
coldly cast aside.
Celebrated commanders,
craving conflict, craving control—
controlling crowds, corrupting conscience,
carnal creatures, counting corpses.
Civilization,
consumed in cold calculation,
cancel culture, cursed by choice,
compassion condemned,
civility collapsed,
countdown complete.
Shimomura – (Transcultural)
My identity was stolen
by men with hostile hands
before I ever knew my name.
Neither I nor my parents
had a voice against the rule of the strongest.
Strongest for a day—just dust in the endless scale of life, the universe, and time.
I grew old,
grew victorious,
without a single blink of knowing—
what it means to belong,
to be granted acceptance
as a birthright,
as breath.
Would I still win,
if I were just wallpaper,
fading into the background?
Was it even a win
when the price was so high?
I dream of a night’s sleep,
wrapped in the warmth of entitlement,
a soft cocoon of certainty,
where nothing needs to be earned,
just felt.
What would I give
for the luxury of moving through crowds,
speaking effortlessly to strangers,
without cutting pieces of myself
just to fit?
What would I surrender
to fall in love
without losing parts of me
in the exchange?
And yet, a man is a man—
he carries both worlds in his chest,
When he dies, stars collapse into a black hole,
claiming cosmic justice,
fused eternally in his fire.
Love Entropy: Bending Space, Breaking Order
It was time to bring this love into daylight,
to pull it from the space between the lines
where it quietly bloomed in his comforting silence.
Would he find the right words now?
Would reality be too harsh for love in its infancy?
Has it grown enough to fight adversity?
Claim its place in days cluttered with grown-up obligations?
Bend when necessary,
wise enough to make the right call?
You’re afraid—
that bringing this love into the light
will repeat the failures of the past,
add another chain to your necklace of shame,
with the only and most merciless judge being you.
Will this love leave you even more childless in the end?
And what of my fear—
of missed chances,
but also of choosing wrong again?
Being sentenced to watch love reverse itself,
to the slow process of unloving.
Yet, I still believe in endless possibilities,
even though walking alone is safe and painless.
Can our souls handle the entropy of love once more?
Undoing the neat lines of routine
disrupting the cozy warmth that slowly boils the frog.
Love naturally moves from order to disorder,
converging into something new
as two distinct universes fuse.
This is no small thing.
Even nascent, it can reverse the first law of motion—
breaking inertia and the built-in resistance to change.
I believe in the shift,
a gravity so strong it bends space around us,
a love massive enough to change the direction of everything.