The Whole World Isn’t Mine, True, But My World, My World Is Mine.

Am an empty lot anything can fill yet, am so full of nothingness for something to fit in. Am in a state of despondency that nobody can revive my forlornness, am greatly agitated with myself, thus get scared for you my love when you say that you love me.

art by @kmcvisuals

Am not right to be loved, thus I fear for a soul that flatters mine. Am not just to be trusted, thus I am scared to trust. Am aiming nowhere, thus scared for someone to get lost with me.

Some say hope is a good thing, others all heartedly warn us against it. Country men , isn’t that life? that what frees some enslaves others and completely dismantles them out of existence.

art by @kmcvisuals

The mothers

only pray

to get

Lawyers

Doctors

Presidents

and

Engineers

then

the world

stares on,

finding it hard 

to give us all our daily havocs,

for the rest 

of our lives.

Some are whores

and 

gigolos 

so you

marry them at

your own

risk

that when you

find them

extramarital

you know that

this was it,

the destiny thing.

rantandreleasespace@gmail.com

sometimes you want to deep talk. other times, laugh at how unfair life is. then there are days you want to be crude as hell, unfiltered, messy, real.

but...

social media feels too loud. friends feel too busy. texting feels dry. even your notes app is tired of you.

and still... the heart swells. the mind spins. the soul aches for softness. for being heard without performing. for depth without interruption.

that’s how rant and release was born.

for the ones who: → overthink everything. → replay conversations or decisions on loop. → feel it all and still carry it all. → need to vent but don’t want pity. → want to share but not with just anybody.

it’s old-style. it’s basic. it’s messy. but I promise — when you find me there, we’ll laugh at life together, get scared together, maybe even get cruder together. because in there, it’s us against life.

one email away: rantandreleasespace@gmail.com

no rules. no perfection. just human. though, NOT THERAPY.

He does, what he wants, when he wants, how he wants and the atheist won't accept it, that even in there factual existence He was always aware. God, does, what he wants, when he wants, how he wants Period

I have given up on everything except the believe, in thyself as if am anything special

the decision is always ours

Extremists live melancholy lives, they are always at the edges. Their hands suffocate, bruises, blood, scars. They are always pulling the rope to their end forgetting that the world stands on a balance. They fascinate themselves with things and that’s prison in itself.

Art by @kmcvisuals