Devin Sunshine

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

[Something About a Nuclear Family]

With formaldehyde fantasies in my veins, cancer grows into vines
stapling the trees of our lives, with excerpts of unwaveringly
painful memories; of similarly unadorned clairvoyant
tragedies, and we are all that remains.

Devoid of reception in this hallowed door frame;
I’m watching us move, and he calls my name,
says it’s coming up short of a late-night habit
like my nicotine addiction, but I disagree.

Sure, it’s managed me a mess; a contorted rage of tears.
I’ve fallen too far down the rabbit hole — trapped in the
concrete compounds of my own holy beliefs,

but don’t I stumble through these harrowing halls
with such certain and graceful integrity?



Photo by Ali Mucci on Unsplash

[Rudimentary Rationale]

The protruding bones of our empty home
resemble a foundation years passed nourishment,
years passed stability, and years passed contentment.

Yet, his smell still lingers here;

the smell of storage units, of empty boxes
sitting in separate states longing to recuperate,
of late afternoon car rides with the windows down,
of dizzy winter mornings spent trying to self-medicate

Somewhere in the midst of packing and unpacking
our sense of belonging, I realized, a few hours too late,
I must have left it to decay in one of the makeshift homes
forever haunted by our past emotional poverty.



Photo by Daniel Jensen on Unsplash


tonight i found myself forging fairy tales from fickle fantasies;
night time tragedies never nearing even half-drunk epiphanies.

placating poignant poems in pretty books filled with perfect peonies
bathing in barbarically boisterous boys disguised as something healthy

i lost the loose ends and lately — i feel it’s left me wanting a life worth living
and tonight i found myself forgiving false prophets prematurely
when i should be growing gillyweed in the garden instead of
helping what’s hurting.



[Blind Devotion]

For every dial tone convincing you
that you’re alone,

and all the words you weren’t given
a chance to speak.

For every crack in your voice telling
you, that you’re weak

and all of the times they promised never,
ever to leave.

For every break in the tide, when you have
a chance to breathe;

I will linger beneath suppressed emotions;
A dull ache reminding you of a time — when
I gave you such blind devotion.



Photo by m wrona on Unsplash

[Excusing The Means]

𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜
𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚢.

𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜
𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢.

𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗
𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊
𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜;
𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎;
𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔,
𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗.

𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎
𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜.



[Diptera Daydreams]

Photo by Echo Grid on Unsplash


I flit with no pitch in my wings;
land softly to pray away the

Your moans haunting the night;
whimpers echo in my mind.
Breathe for me, darling,
for I would not prefer
that you cry.

My heart;
a pliable peach;
a matrix of martyrdom;
a breeding ground of greed;
a convoluted mess of contrition —

Breathe for me, darling,
for I would never ask another
to bleed to retain my affections.



Devin Sunshine

Devin Sunshine

Just an introverted lover of dissecting emotions and attempting to eloquently express them.