I asked AI to make art from this Canadian province… *Check the bottom for more info Name Origin People of Ontario

It’s so good to have you here — If breath is essential to life To speak or to hiccup or cough Then it has the power to kill You can’t feel death, but it’s real Realer than life it may seem Which feels way too short so I dream That you might wake up, rub the eye crust And not feel the same pain as…

“I wish you roses…for your funeral” — There was this beautiful (I mean, just bad) singer named Kali Uchis, who loved her friends but was honestly kind of a loner. Her favorite activity in those days was sitting on her bed, rolling up a joint with custom-made papers with “por vida” printed in cursive on the insides…

Trapped in the shadows we make — There was a time — so many days Where my vents released a darkened fame Back when I had nothing and said the same Then was The Dark Days Dark Days came swift Cascaded on rifts, rolling From God’s scolding came nothing but Gifts to overcome From all the aching in me caused But I write this because I’m…

if you study the Tarot you know… — By Quinn Zhael If you study the Tarot you know Swords are for words, Cups are for feelings Impaled by your swords My cups runneth over Out of my chest The water turns to blood It pools at my feet Surrounds me and drowns me I float on the surface Shifting on the ebb and flow My swords all tied behind…

a poem — Shadowed, a flaming demon Lies unseen, enwrapped to shroud; He wants to scintillate the blacks of eyes, As in mine, yours and — All he shines. As I watch a trickling heaven spill In drops its fertile stars The celeste pours crying down…

finding the tribe we are lost from — by Quinn Zhael Arid like the desert Desert yellow sand Sand so soft and fine Fine and warm, as your hand Like dunes ever-shifting Shifting and rearranging Rearranging highlights and shadow Shadows dancing, undulating Dreaming of the chance Chance of finding the tribe we are lost from From the culture we belong in In my hands, your…

At least it would explain…why I do not feel real They said you would die On the day I was born That your body could not hold Because of me you were torn And so life would disown From your maternal tasks They came upon you fast Embellished tubes and masks Just tools to help you breathe So that you might not leave From your material past If not, you’d part…

by Quinn Zhael As I awake, my stomach quakes Limbs — legs and arms, begin to ache My heart and mind are full of dreams Body cut open at the seams I burn inside and try to hide From a sun that seems to chide A mind that holds the silent screams Body cut open at the seams Give me sun that applauds the day My blight, affliction, kept at bay My Besta Negra’s cold eyes gleam Body cut open at the seams By Quinn Zhael Poems and stories by my beloved friend, Quinntieteneboh.medium.com