The Devil’s Bloom

“It begins like a seed. It ends in a carnival of colorful despair.”

A whisper here,
a thought there,
little things
everywhere.

Fear — sweet, sweet seduction.
The Devil’s Bloom, I call it.

Riding on a mighty high-horse,
dressed in glitters of your mediocrity.

A table for two,
the dinner of a lifetime,
a righteous feast.

Perfected just for you.
Oh, the details —
impeccable.

It’s beginning like a seed.
Its end, a carnival of colorful despair,
each thought tap-dancing
on your quivering heart.

But I reckon,
the bloom withers
if you don’t water it.

And only those who’ve knelt
in hell’s defiance
would dare,

point and say:
Hades is that way.”


Inhale. Exhale. Create.

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”
— Albert Camus

Hi, I realized I haven’t been active here at all for a while. Let just say adulting has been a chore, it is relentless in its endeavors to evidently separate me from the little joys of this world.

But I refuse to swim with my problem, so I have decided to come up for air. This includes writing again and a general will for life.

I have learned that there is no such thing as the perfect time, if you can’t find a way to breathe in the chaos, you might just drown cause chaos has never been known for sticking to a schedule.

So here I am. Breathing. Writing again. Choosing to show up in this little corner of the internet that once held so much of my voice.

In the spirit of leaning into both creativity and responsibility, I’ve also given life to something new: Odiche Candle & Co.

It’s my love letter to cozy nights, intentional living, and slow, fragrant moments. These candles, reed & car diffuser are eco-friendly, hand-poured, and crafted with luxe ingredients—because I believe sustainability and luxury can (and should) exist in the same breath.

Thanks for being here—again.

Here’s to the comeback, the support, the candles, and the chaos we learn to dance with.

Luna

Connected the dots.

Fear is a kind of madness, I believe —
the devil’s bloom, I call it.

A communion of false insecurities,
where misery twirls ever so gracefully.

It twirls and dances,
until my mind takes it leave.
Their works are like anchors.

“You are responsible for your happiness,” they said.
Oh, but the chore of it.

I dinned with regret —
it was just a fling,
though its kisses were anything but.

Then happiness said, hi.
Ah — to flirt with perfection.

I like it here.
I might stay.

Below my feet

Out the Blue.

I squandered my resistance,

for what?

Fleeting pleasures, I suppose.

At the hands of strangers,

seeking acceptance from the ragged people,

Cause the fine ones come with fine prints I can’t see.

The harder I squint the blurrier it gets.

I can feel it, something is off.

I just wanna find peace.

It’s been too foreign to me,

buried below my feet.

But I will dig and sift the oddity

we will be whole again, eventually.

I promise.