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NEW - This Week's Featured Poetry (x3)

ESCAPE ARTIST

By Heeya

I try and find loopholes in lifetime agreements,

I slip through the edges of treacherous entanglements.

Sleep greets me in a harmonious pleasure—

I go places when fire burns near.

I run away from crisis fetching water bottles,

I tip my toes in salt air to avoid concepts.

I numb my heart running wild with pressure,

I take a few too many to avoid pleasure.

I seek out companionship and run when it gets too serious—

I’m a modicum of grace when dealing with lectures.

I flee my reality for stone-caged admirers,

I float in agony but refuse to be the wanderer.

I treat my stuffed toy with irrevocable care,

redirecting the caring finesse I wish was near.

I talk in my head in colourful accents—

each a different personality with restrained consent.

My father tells the doctor I have a tendency to be the escape artist;

I allow my head to dip

at this quiet accusation of violet injustice.

And perhaps his perception is true—

I’m an escape artist,

forging alliances with slumber

to portray my gilded cage of mischief.

Running away from the realities of cumbersome honesty,

losing myself in the crevices of tiring monstrosity.

Tethering along the lines of absent to minimalist,

I’ve come to accept my sleep addiction

as a distraction to my conscience.

My thoughts run wild

in a metachromatic display of ravenous indisposition—

most too dark to be revealed

without the occasional medicated foresight.

Depression—

a kaleidoscope of incapacitating rush of anger,

peeking through the blinds of undercut illuminous thunder.

Tears, a circumstantial derivative of misplaced anger and hurt;

dreams, the metaphysical component

of quiet brunt I’m forced to shoulder.

And then there is survival through medicated slumber—

agony, a vessel for corresponding chambers.

All roads lead to inward contemplation:

a shot of whiskey drenched in peace and miscommunication.

The chemistry of burnout

is perhaps the brain’s voltage strangulation—

even dreams portraying

the caricature of avenging contradiction.

A psychological odyssey of sequential disregulation—

an escape artist forging through the strands of poetic placetation,

weaving dreams, wakefulness, sleep and realities

in a string of callous conjugation.

My artistic transcript lies

in my management of conscious indiscretion.

ABOUT HEEYA:  Heeya is a poet and storyteller whose work delves into the delicate intersections of the mind and the heart — exploring trauma, healing, self-blame, love, and survival through layered, emotionally intelligent verse. A medical student by day and a dreamer by night, she writes as both confession and reclamation, translating the clinical language of the body into the emotional language of being. Her poetry often blurs the boundaries between science and soul, intellect and intimacy — crafting spaces where pain becomes art, and silence finally speaks.