Woe To The Golden Calf (Vent Poetry)I pushed her away, or so I tried.Blocked out, pushed far, where she should hide.Yet everywhere I turn, she lies,Like an ever-present parasite, unconfined. This Golden Calf, they kowtow and pray,Her artwork and words are the truth, they blindly say.They lift her high, like a shining lie,And turn to me, with expectant eye. "Join us," their sheep gazes plead,"Worship our prophet, help sow her seed.""Bow down to our queen," they say, as I cringe,They're just her little puppets in her venomous fringe. What holy grace does she possess?Just a showoff artist, a high and mighty mess,Her art and words, apparently something grand,But I see the flaws, and no one understands. They rave about her hypocritical painted lines,Her "lovely" drawings, her "grand" designs.But I just see an insignificant hand,Deceitful paints and pencils from where I stand. She's not special, not even a bit good,Her annoying pictures just fill me with a bad mood.Just lines and colors, flaccid and thin,Baseless sculptures, a boring spin. I'm tired of her, in every way.I just wish that she would go away.Fall from prominence, like a wave's crash,Reduced to dust, like crumbled ash. Oh, what a joy that would impart!A freedom for this spiteful heart.I'd buy cake and ice cream, colors so bright,To celebrate her downfall through the night. A sweet feast, a joyous release,That thought alone will be my endless peace,A cruel thought, yes, I know it's true,But, everything about her, I am through.A Breath of AutumnAn inhale of cool air,A feeling I'd forgotten,Passing through then gone again,Take in a breath of autumn It's creeping in,Sneaking past,Poking through the summerA fleeting glimpse,It doesn't last,This heat is such a bummer.you've died many timesI could bury you,just like I did with those before you.You get better at it with age;letting go.Just like you taught me.ЖаждаПеределай нашу жаждув море глубиной ступней.Раскрывай наши жаждыв нереальную модель. Покажи нашей жаждечто у всех вкус ужасный.Покажи как ты видишьнашу реальность. (Ух, какая гадость.)Apartment PrincessA single drop of water from the tea cup. What are we doing here, apartment princess? Drunk on the platonic concept of two stories, and fairytales about suburban homing. Oh, chinita bitch, this is not your calling. Set down the white porcelain teacup, don’t spill it on the awning. The fable cat is sleeping, tired of talking about the swan princess. High on the concept of a home with spiral stairs, fungus is circularly growing on the mattresses. What’s so crazy is that you eyed your friends apartment, fantasize about letting the bathtub tap running until the entire edifice is coated in liquid. What are we doing here, apartment princess? Let it burn and let it drip.mundanity exhaustedI am layingOn the floorMy guts spilled outI am exhaustedMad at myselfI did againA mundanity I cannot manageLullaby for the end of the worldFreedom in the form of a water drop Wind gently carrying me Let this place burn to the ground And from it sprout the night’s dream Waves in the pottery Glaze what’s left of the earth Kiss my cheek and wish me good luck I will be weightless and float upwards I’ll fall in love with the sunrise I’ll say goodbye when the sun falls Curtain going down on the landscape Mantle of night I can see all A clear map of the sky dome Etheric waterfalls when I close eyes Interlace fingers with the firmament Kiss me goodnight and I’ll slumber Like the glimmers of the sea when the night comesThe SpectatorThe scene starts.I am in a room.It's filled with Gray. Beige.Brown.These colors. I don't like these colors.Especially brown.Too boring, too bleak.Too... ugly.I want to see colors.I want to seepeople. I look out my window.Not a single soul.Everyone in this hour is asleep.I should be, too.However, there was no one to spectate during the day.So I waited.That waiting required me to see only black for a fewhours in order to skip to the next day.There was nothing to do. Anyway, I will look at the screen.The screen.The portal to everything.I just use this portalto see more people.I don't interact with any of them,I just see people. Wow... People!Videos, Content, Journals, Messages,all made by people .They're all unique,yet feel the same.it's like the same patternwith different shapes. This person has curly hair.This person has straight hair.This person has blue eyes that shine bright,while this one has irises as dark as the night.This person has a beauty that shines likethe moonlight of the ocean.This person is ugly.This person has a nice voice.I think I will listen to him more. An hour passes by like a minute. 5 hours pass like 30.Just like that,my alarm rings.It's the first day of school.I wash up and get dressed.A good person must always look good to other people.I walk out the door.Time to see new people! At the bus stop,I see people.They're on their phones.No one's talking.I won't even bother.Who would want to speak to a spectator anyway?I pull out my phone, too.Looking for something to do.Not because I want to,But because I want to look like a person. We all get on the bus.I see the gray, muddy view like it always has.Not important.I want to see more.I go on my phone to see more people.Before I can,We've already arrived!sigh I sighed.Maybe next time. As I enter the building,I see more people.Three of them greet me.I give a little wave before continuing on my observations.They are my friends.Well, they're supposed to be.All they do is talk to each other.Don't get me wrong, they are friends.I understand that.However, I wish they would pay attention to me asI do to them and they do to each other.I'd need to be interesting, though.In a good way.I wish I was interesting.But alas, I must continue looking. Wait...This person...He's different.Why am I blushing?Why am I suddenly getting tense?No.No.Do not get hold of yourself.A person wants a player.Not a spectator. See? He already has a boyfriend.And friends.Let's just keep looking. I look for my classroom.Room 306, the room of the photography class.Hosted by Mr...Mr...His name is blurred out."Hey! You coming with me to Mr. Ovchinnikov's room?"I turn my head to see if anyone was talking to me."Yeah! Here, give me a sec, I need to..."Oh. Just a person talking to another person.I see them walk to... room 306.Huh. Hopefully, this doesn't sound creepy...I hope I don't look creepy to them,but I followed them into the room of Mr. Ovchinnikov.Thankfully, they didn't notice me one bit.Plus, this isn't their first hour, from what I see.The perks of beinga ghost, I'd say. More and more people come in.They lookinteresting.At least more interestingthan me.But that's not the point.Class is starting. "Welcome, welcome. Welcome to your 4th year of high school.You've made it."Barely."I will introduce myself. My name is Mr. Ovchinnikov.I am your teacher this year for photography."His words get in one earand out the other.Only 14 key points survive in my head,Briefly.I think that's all of them. This person walks up to me."What is your name?"My mother always called me"Avengeline."Stuck with it for almost 18 years.Why not?I will write it down on paper. Today had gone smoothly.Avengeline, Avengeline,BEEP!Avengeline, Avengeline, Avengeline.Actually, the whole week.No, the whole month!I've gotten to introduce myselfto all kinds of people.A lot of them looked the same,but still. They're so...interesting! All of them were so nice,until November hit. I don't know what happened,but all hell broke loose.I thought Halloween was supposedto scare the demons away.Why are they stillscreeching in my ear? Photography class was fine, of course.I got to learn how to make albums.That was fun.I don't know had to add personality to thembut it was still fun. Math class was, too.Solving problems,Finding measurementsand having to copy them?It's therapeuticto say the least. It was English class. In English class,we have this assignmentwe are required to doin order to graduate.In this assignment,we need to researcha topicthat is affecting usgreatly.We have to present itto the whole class, too. But here's the catch.it all has to be symbolic.and it has to be in a form of a story.The entire essay. Now me,I had just the thing.Propaganda.I went through it,I've seen videos of it,and it's the most I've consumedduring my not-so-subtle onlooking. I knew just how to execute it.I had the characters, the animals,heck, even the actions needextremely deep analysisin order to understand them fully.I was so excited. So proud.So confident that I voluntarily asked to present first.Ms. Richards said yes. I go up to the board and clear my throat."My essay is about a daycare."A giggle ensues.I try not to worry about it.Use human lingo, Ave.They'll think you're just a normal human. "Um, I can like, read it off my paper butuhh...'There are two babies.'The giggling starts to uprise. I'm so nervous.My bowel system is starting tofeel like the gas stationafter a long driveout of state. "S-so there are two babies, one isa baby with brown eyes,one is a baby with blue eyes.The baby is playing with his toys..." Giggles start to turn into chuckles.The sweat is unbearable.I start to get insecure of my own scentbecause of the moist of myanti-perspirant underarms. "s-so, the baby is playing with his toys-""AYO WHAT KIND OF TOYS?"That one gym bro, multiple-girlfriend commentwas enough to make the class explode.They're laughing at me.Laughing.At me. Popular girls were whispering to each other.Smiling.All the boys in my class made faces.To mock me.I even saw normal people,rude, bitchy normal peoplemake the dirtiest, stinkiest looks,mouthing the words "Get on with it already." I asked Ms. Richards if I could check my locker."I think I might have forgotten something.""You have five minutes."I thank the English teacherand immediately go outsideto go to my locker.I think I heard Ms. Richards yell,but I couldn't tellwhat she said.What she saiddidn't matterbecause I was alreadywounded. I sat at lunch.Alone.I didn't want to talk toanyone.I didn't even want to look.I looked at my phone.Not because I wanted to look normal,but I wanted an escape.An escape from a burning buildingI'm trapped in.that escape?People.Other types of people. I stared at my phone.Watching. Watching.Watching like the owl I was.These people have so much better lives.Alas, it became my new escapism.Peoplethat weren't people here.Under the "she's so weird"'sand "she's kinda... off"'s,I found enjoymentin seeing other people happy.I even forgot to eat from the screen timeI was consuming. History class wasn't any better.Passing time, someone yelled at me.Another one was annoyed by my presence.Why?Why do people yell?Why do they hate me? When I finally got into history class,the teacher was stretching out the whole period,so I just looked at my dark reflectionin my assigned computer.Which, if you don't know,if you even dare not to pay attention,you will be called out.you will be humiliated.Why?"Maybe you should've been listening."I won't even be mentioning his name becausehe doesn't deserve to be acknowledged. My brain is completely corruptedwith what I've done.I don't even know what happened in gymor science.I wasn't paying attention.just observing.Why did I do that?Why did I decide to play?I wish I did.I wish I stayed a spectator. This is why I never want to becomea player.Players always put everything intowhat they play.Only to lose it all tosomeone better at the end.Not even someone better,someone that just wantsyou to fail.Without even thinking.I must staya spectator. I go back home.Absolutely exhausted.But what is this?I shouldn't feel exhausted.I made it another day.It doesn't feel like it.It's like I'm in a never-endingexecution display.Everyone,with their words,With their presence,they all decapitate me.For the heinous,absolutely despicable crime ofbeing unnatural. What do you expect me to do?I'm not a player.I used to be,but then I lost.To you.To him.To them.To her. I used to be a player,but then I was beaten.Beaten to a pulp.So call me pathetic all you want,But I'm just trying to live.And what better way to livethan to watch others live? They tell me to love myself,but who would want to lovesomebody who is anabsolute loser?Who in their right, player mindwould like themselves as a player?Who loses only a few rounds in a rowand stops playing the game altogether?Not me, of course. For that reason, I cannot be a player.I will not be a player.Why would you want to risk losingto everything and everyonewhen you could justwatch and learn?I will not risk it.I will not risk being embarrassed anymore.Because I'm putting on my maskand hiding from the world. I am not a loser.I am safe.I am strategic.I am observant.I.Am.The Spectator.Changed the belt on my vacuum cleaner today.I changed the belt in my vacuum todayI'm not sure if it worksI can see its chamber fillA lone dust bunny spinningBut I remember daysWhen the dust would crackleThrough her insidesAnd the proud mechanical whirOf her brush rolling on the carpetBut today a gust of windPulls into a leak, somewhereAnd though the chamber is fullSo much has been left behindA loose red thread sticks to the floorMocking the two of usAnd I feel the ache in my wristThe weight of my bodyAs I pluck the thread to tossINSEPARABLEdownload and read our zine through the link below!! https://manyface.itch.io/inseparableBlood chrysalisI pick at my skin unzipping my charade, with enough scabful bloodletting I’ll be bathed entirely. As the blood will harden into a carapace, and I’ll emerge as perfect out of my blood chrysalis.Still hereAre you still here with me?With your paws and your feet?Are you still here with me?You sweet little thing? If you are still here,then you never will leave.Past death will persist,your sweet little ears. Past death will persist,and they never will leave.Your sweet little patters,your whiskers and caress.Past death you persist,you sweet little thing. And I’ll carry you, I’ll carry you, I’ll carry you;forever with me.Past death you persist,you sweet little thing And I’ll carry you, carry you, carry you, carry you, carry you;so you can still persist.You sweet little thing. With your sweet little eyes,a ticklish design,and your sweet little ears,forever with me.Princess ApartmentKhrushchevka royalty, apartment-bred The stump in the courtyard houses a fairy There’s a hollowed out brick with a spider scary Shadowed by a hollow box, of princess apartment Concrete Rumanov, will you rot in the forest or in a Cementery? a house elf left a print in the cement, now the path has the hole of a coin sized hoof Leave a leaf under your pillow, four more if you’re behind on payment, Gnomes tend to be forgiving debtors Spriggans shouldn’t be landlords They burst the bubble in ‘08 Blamed it on that NFT monkeyfig economyCan’t afford a single stump this age They’re demanding twice the berries for the same The price of acorn hats are also rising But snail eggs stay the same They’re actually getting cheaper I saw some for free but I didn’t want them9/25/24The patter of pawsteps and the crisp crunch of leaves.The patter of two racing hearts as wind whips through fur.The iron tang of red staining the fresh snow.Delicate snowflakes drift dusting eternal stillnessmellowA mild inconvenience at best The rope against my skin can only be so gentle Up to what point can you rewire the self Time plays against one’s favorwas not a prey but was a songbirdRemember me sing, I did it for you. Now I do it so I’m fed, I sing it for me. Tear out the wings, feathers flying. But there was hesitance when you left my broken body.Now and ForeverI am trapped hell of my own design.Of creation. Of destruction.Of healing. Of suffering. I was a great and all-knowing force.A guide across a new, unfamiliar immortal coil.Forgiving and yieldingas I led you across this great space. I thought you to be small.To be ignorant.To be entirely unaware of the plans I had for you.Of the deception I had weaved. After all, how could a mere mortal ever measure up to a God?Mortals know nothing of forever. And now here I stand,like a newborn deer in spring.Unsure of my footing.My own form foreign. In sparing me, you have killed me a thousand times. I am now beneath the very creatures I chose to guide.A mere ant. A speck. A great nothing.I have no power here.No real strength to call my own. I had seen endless sunsets.The rise and fall of civilizations.Witnessed the crash of continents. I understood what it was to be mortal.They lived a mere blink, desperate and afraid,and then they died wholly insignificant. Yet, you made me sit in those fields,as though I had a choice,to listen to the babble of the brook.Not to consider the raging river it may become,but to enjoy it, just as it was. The flowers bounced softly on the breeze;somewhere children shouted,birds sang, trees swayedknowing nothing of eons pastand nothing of tomorrow. I held the universe in my hands.Yet, only now do I seem to understand it.Its intricacies, its nuances.The gentle touch of a summer’s day. In the end, perhaps I was destined to fail.For all of my deceptions, I knew so little.Ignorant to each water drop that created the stream.Each little drip that led to my downfall. After all, how could a God ever challenge a mortal?Gods know nothing of the now.trophycat in a boxJust please have mercy I beg you please Just pull the trigger And I’ll have rest Don’t keep me guessing All this time My mind is rotting from inside