Simply Drakovi

Petals of Memory: A Bloodrose’s Reverie By Drakovi Bloodrose I am not a flower. I am the fracture of a scream. I am not alive, yet I breathe. My roots anchor to the soil as if the earth herself clings to me, a desperate lover. My petals, red as forgotten rage, shiver in the whispering wind, each vibration carrying tales of passing feet and shadowed figures. They call me bloodrose . But I call myself Ache. Each morning, the sun drips liquid gold over me, and I soak it up greedily, though it tastes of yesterday’s despair. My thorns gleam like spears, dulled from their wars with careless hands. A robin lands beside me and chirps something absurd: “You are beautiful today, Ache.” It has the audacity to compliment my decay, my eternal wilting. I snarl, “I am not beautiful, little winged fool. I am the scar you forgot to heal.” The robin doesn’t care, flies away with my bitterness tucked beneath its feathers. The soil hums with worms beneath me. They dance in spirals, singing songs older tha...

Ever notice how the urge to take a piss hits hardest right when you start washing the dishes? The Battle at the Sink By Drakovi Bloodrose The sink is full, and so am I, But the dishes can’t wait, and neither can I. Warm water flows, soap bubbles rise, And suddenly, my bladder starts to cry. Plate after plate, I scrub with care, But the pressure below is hard to bear. The sponge squeaks loud, the faucet streams, All a cruel reminder of my bursting seams. The pots are sticky, the forks are grim, My focus wavers, my chances slim. Will I make it? Can I last? This battle feels like it’ll never pass. With the last dish done, I toss the sponge, And bolt away in a desperate lunge. Relief at last, the struggle is through— The sink is clean, and so am I too.

Everyday the Rhythm Beats by Drakovi Bloodrose  Waking up, the sunlight spills over my bones— Sitting with the weight of my own thoughts, A brief dance with the porcelain throne, Shaving off the day before, head smooth, Beard an art of its own— A brushstroke in the mirror. Egg and oatmeal, Fruit’s burst of color, A protein shake— Liquid ambition, Fuel for the house of thoughts. Lillie, Miko, Kila— Tails and paws, A tangled rhythm of play. The floors whisper of cleanliness, Housework like the rhythm of breathing, Words slip through, poetry, Chasing the spaces in between. Anxiety— Not a cage but a wild rhythm, No fear—just energy buzzing, I shift, Gaming on the edge of the mind, The sky a blanket of endless questions. Her love, a constant hum, Her smile in the chaos, The softness of skin— Passion, sex, hunger, The circle ever spinning. And at the core, A mind, Unraveling, But never unwound. Goodnight universe. 

Awaken the Spirit, Protect the Land A Fortnite Tale b y Drakovi Bloodrose The sun split the sky with golden streaks as I, Drakovi, donning Michelangelo's skin—ever the eternal jokester and ninja extraordinaire—leapt from the Battle Bus, a shell of determination guiding my descent. The cherry blossoms danced in the breeze as I chose my landing spot: Warrior’s Watch. From above, its stone walls whispered of ancient honor and untold challenges. Touching down with a perfect roll landing, I immediately scanned my surroundings. My hands were empty, my blade yet to be earned. The echo of lesser demons prowling in the distance sent a shiver through me. No biggie, though—I’m used to throwing myself into chaos. With quick feet, I darted toward the nearest chest nestled under an archway, its golden glow beckoning like pizza on a cold night. Inside, I found my first tool of survival: the Oni Shotgun, its intricate design pulsing with supernatural energy. A fire mask rested beside it, glow...