h.a.laine

Joined September 2025

13 stories

Bio

writer, telepathist, alien translator. diagnosed with schizophrenia. I write prose poetry and create digital art to describe my experiences.

Stories (13)

Filter by community

Sort by (Optional)

‘the kiss of schizophrenia and its divine gifts’
—- these uncensored images, the curse always so hot. the bright lights always spreading more warmth through the curtains. a frigid window that the breath fogs up with.
By h.a.laine24 days ago in Poets
‘did you think it was about you again?’
—- ten dozen tired eyes at dusk, 5743, and a story that won’t begin. a draping under the curtained monotony, just another mind melding matrimony. a happy birthday lingering in late June’s grave. I’m fine, I’m vomiting. a vertical one hundred and eighty degrees. north no matter your venom. I’m trying, I’m adapting. just up and down and outwards of this skin. and the tropics are so frigid from out here’s perspective. this dense atmospheric fog lingering in the lungs. a steady choking, like we pay for it every time we breathe. like this dagger that stopped the bleeding in my neck. finally. the truth can come out of its ingrown spot. this same realization that ‘father’ is just another word wasted on you in the dictionary.
By h.a.laine2 months ago in Poets
‘the crash out is valid’
—- 111, like a cold coca-cola to the back of the neck. and the armageddon of fall. these scorching feelings always crawling their way back up the throat. not enough time in the day, and too many hours to portray that I’m ‘fine’. and what is a glitch but a person who says no too often? another daily isolation. a general distrust towards the population. like something too sweet in the mouth, another cavity too deep down within the dentin, or a reason for turning your mouth into a ghost.
By h.a.laine3 months ago in Poets
‘there’s a pain in the back where the wings grow in’
—- to archive a heart and wire tap the brain. leave a part of you preoccupied. way up in the sky but on a permanent downtime. coming down from the high hi with a long sigh. too deep for drowning. something more akin to flying, without wings. like a melancholy feeling tasted on the wind.
By h.a.laine3 months ago in Poets
‘in light of meditation: a dreamscape’
in my dream I was throwing a small party. cleaned all day and set up little activities for everyone to do. you showed up and asked me if I’d missed you as much as you’d missed me. I told you I didn’t think I’d ever met you before.
By h.a.laine4 months ago in Poets
‘A Car Crash Ensues’
driving at midnight, to seawater up the nose, the bridge collapses.
By h.a.laine4 months ago in Poets
‘Jesus apparently loved blue wine’
—- wore a white robe and walked down the stairs the same way as the rest of us. there was always this brightly glowing white ball behind us. the only thing shining in the pitch dark. and I’m pretty sure his belt had a snake pendant on it.
By h.a.laine4 months ago in Poets
‘Are you ready for the cold?’
—- I was born and bred for it, like a dry nose before the nosebleed. an anchoring of the titanic. a mosaic of carved words in a cold fireplace wall. an iceberg, surely breaking. flipping and flipping. ‘this side of the pillow is always the coolest’, and this side holds all of the memories. I’m just sinking, slowly, lights still on. a party. the music still playing. I’m just trying to decipher the morse code in the last gusts of everest air. I’m just the cool conditions of confliction. just freezing over, slightly thawed, like that last spark of fire before the tundra hits. hard.
By h.a.laine4 months ago in Poets
‘My soulmate is a hive of demons’
—- a caramel karmic on the brain, like teeth stuck in a golden apple. and the shame of a bobbing head with its steady drowning. a holding of breath. the pain of a blessing, up the nose and down the throat. ‘you’re gifted, kid’ says the amalgamation of darkness lingering in the corner. and the heat of humanity finds its way between the legs. always. shuddering. there are snakes finding their way in. coiling up into and rubbing the most sensitive spots of skin. there’s a muscular contraction. a reminder of your birth. there’s an angel that goes by the name of dirt, lost in the closet of clothes that no longer fit. coming back for the light each night, again and again, and again.
By h.a.laine4 months ago in Poets
‘If a poem was the medicine’
—- I’m tipsy and I want pink bedsheets and braces and severance payments again. gums always bleeding, sweating through my skin. the fever at my core needs to be extinguished. and I need to be adopted. my memories need a new ram. my horns need to grow in. but I’m just pillow defenseless, my nails always bitten down, jagged. my scars still itching. permanent nerve damage. my words need to vomit up and out from my esophagus. but I just keep swallowing them in. I need the world to end like it did in 2012. a new armageddon. I need cake with my feelings. to find that moment when your gaze turned away, when I lost control of the plot, and my soaking wet sheets turned into poetry.
By h.a.laine4 months ago in Poets
‘To Telepathize It’
—- you were the skin that pulled me taut, lost somewhere in the permafrost. these daydreams formed reality like crystals. my innermost truth hibernated. some prayers are like groans, some dreams are like memories. these late night meetings with foreign entities. and it’s not about when the disclosure is, it’s about what happens afterwards. was it too early for you and I to talk through the wall? is it too late for us all to learn a new language?
By h.a.laine4 months ago in Poets
‘Dear Mania, don’t call back later’
—- your red light shines through my window. like a steady solipsism. an ache between the thighs. of Ra and his rye. an eye always on me. a brightly colored, burning body and a mind like chalk made of kerosene.
By h.a.laine4 months ago in Poets

h.a.laine

Bio

Stories .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(13)

Filter by community

‘the kiss of schizophrenia and its divine gifts’

‘did you think it was about you again?’

‘the crash out is valid’

‘there’s a pain in the back where the wings grow in’

‘in light of meditation: a dreamscape’

‘A Car Crash Ensues’

‘Jesus apparently loved blue wine’

‘Are you ready for the cold?’

‘My soulmate is a hive of demons’

‘If a poem was the medicine’

‘To Telepathize It’

‘Dear Mania, don’t call back later’

Stories (13)