This is my page of where I will display the writings I have done. Please enjoy my lovely lovelies ♥♥
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I really need to find a better way to get to school. Riding a balloon dog across the ocean, and hurling myself at a wall until it disappears is not something I want to do everyday.
You probably know that I live on a planet called Glitch which is strictly made up of people under the age of 22, and that I go to school at an academy called Yeqriz. I’m not famous, but if you’re reading this you’re probably from Glitch because you can read the language, New Dezi. And if you’re from Glitch, you should know that there is only one school on the planet, Yeqriz, which is on the city-continent Takimenre. However, what most people don’t know is that I live a whole continent away from Yeqriz.
I’m Ainsleigh Mersiq, I’m 16, and I want to design clothes for a job, which is why I’m at school. The school’s courses include visual arts, literature arts, language, business, and fashion. You can guess which one I chose. I’m writing this because they want us to explain how we got here out of curiosity to start the first day of school.
I live in a continent called Ahn which is predominantly inhabited by animal hybrids, or Ankris, such as myself. I’m a raccoon Ankri, but my Ba’s Ba’s Ba was half shark Ankri, so I have a little bit of that in me too.
Personally, I don’t understand why we have to write this down on paper, we’re in the Time of Unremembering — or as they say on Earth, 2025 — ,so we have computers, which speeds up the process by far.
It all started with my dastardly alarm clock. It ran out of energy over night and didn’t ring! I woke up so late that most people would just stay home. I wasn’t going to do that; going to school would help me achieve my dream! It’s either this, or pretend to be human on Earth and hope to make it, and that’s pretty dangerous. So I changed clothes, brushed my teeth, packed my dimension bag, said goodbye to my Ma and Ba, all that stuff, and set on my path.
What I was supposed to do was walk on the main street, make a right at the big Halubell tree, and then hitch a ride on a balloon dog to Takimenre. But unfortunately, I was running late. When the time hits and you’re officially late, the big, wooden wall that everyone has to climb over will turn into an obstacle specifically tailored to your weakness. So I had to hurry.
Cutting through the forest near my house, I dashed into the thick foliage, hoping my designer shirt wouldn’t get ruined. With the port insight, I picked some leaves out of my tail — horrible for the aesthetic — and rushed towards the ferrywoman. At the time I arrived, a ride to Takimenre would cost 20,000 Medek, but the ferrywoman is my mom’s good friend Issi, so I get rides for free. Issi’s usual lethargic expression dissolved quickly when she saw me, and her honey-colored eyes brightened in recognition.
“Hello, Ains!” she stood up off the dock,”Need a ride to Takimenre I bet? Your Ma told me all about your beginning of school.”
“Hello Issi! I was just about to ask! Thanks for your help!” I responded, returning the greeting. With a swish of her feline tail, Issi helped me up onto Nuva, her hot pink balloon dog, and adjusted the straps of her brown overalls.
In less than four minutes, we were already close to the shore of Takimenre! Nuva is a very fast swimmer.
But then we heard a voice,”Get out of the way! Rouge balloon dog! I repeat, rouge balloon dog!” Nuva took a sharp turn, and Issi and I were thrown off him onto the beach. Thankfully, we survived the crash, but I was on the opposite side of where Yeqriz is on Takimenre!
After Issi checked in on me to see if I was okay, I said my goodbyes and my gratitude, and set off once again.
I walked around the bustling city for a bit and after being knocked to the ground many times by rushed people, I came to a conclusion; I was lost. I didn’t know how long I had been walking, but I was pretty sure that I still had some time left.
Just then, a raggedy-looking kid walked up to me peddling maps with suspiciously cheap prices — 500 Medek per map? What a steal! — but the boy was about 6 and he was adorable, so I bought a map from him.
The boy immediately left after the transaction, and while I was contemplating his shadiness, the map disappeared before my eyes. Rickety Magic! What a con artist!
Enraged, I asked around and for once, knew where I was going.
Almost at my destination, I stopped at a dark alley, consumed by fear. It was where the Spiked Horns reside. The leader, Vruki, stole a prized possession from the Guardian of Death, and survived to tell the story. I was warned that I shouldn’t walk though, but I had to get to school.
I trudged forward awaiting my fate, with my neon green laced pupils adjusting to the severe lack of light. A girl around my age stopped in front of me, the Death Cutlass on her waist. I knew that this was Vruki.
Vruki scrutinized me with precision for what seemed like ages. It felt like I was being silently interrogated, my body becoming transparent to reveal my soul to her sharp gaze.
Then she finally spoke,”State your business.” I was taken by surprise, not prepared for that question.
“I, uh, wanted to pass through?” I stammered out, the sliver of confidence I had slinking out of my body.
“No.” Vruki denied. If she was amused, she didn’t show it. She then turned and walked away. I was absolutely flabbergasted. I had half a mind to walk through anyway, but something told me that the simplicity of Vruki’s answer was a warning, so I went the normal route.
Tired, I plodded my way towards Yeqriz. To my surprise, I wasn’t late yet. The wall peered down at me from a great height as I stared up at it in awe. I knew it was going to be big, but not that big!
Tightening my bandana, I tried climbing up. Nope, too slippery. I tried using the friction of my clothes to combat this. Nope, still too slippery. I tried launching myself over. Nope, too big! The wooden wall started slowly disappearing into thin air and lava replacing it. It couldn’t transform. Not now! My clothes were shredded, nearly all my energy was gone, and I could’ve sworn that wall was laughing at me! In an angry roar, I punched that awful timber pile and then crumpled onto the floor.
I woke up in a cushioned chair, with I’m guessing to be a 21 year old in front of me. My clothes were surprisingly patched up as if they were brand new. Not that I cared anymore. While constantly blowing up the shock of red hair in front of her eyes, she introduced herself as Haazer Averman, a teacher who works at Yeqriz and noticed my unconscious body lying on the ground. Haazer told me that I had managed to crack the wall, which was specifically enchanted to be indestructible. After checking if I was okay and giving me a glass of water, Haazer then brought me to the room I’m in now, where all the other students are.
That’s it. The end of my story of how I got to school. I’m Ainsleigh Mersiq, 16, fashion maybe isn’t everything for me, and I’m changing my alarm clock. I do not want to redo this trip back and forth everyday until the course ends. I really need to find a better way to get to school. [End]
I've cooked.
Your eyes shine in shock like stars
Wide as a whole galaxy;
My biggest regret is that I was not born a mortal—
Our love is impossible, a human and a faerie,
You and me.
-Marz Barz, 7/30/25
My first non-school induced poetry!
The night comes,
a new friend.
*cue the undertale music*
I am from books,
From long forgotten poems and hidden gems,
Waiting on a shelf for a reader.
I am from the rain.
Cold, Gentle, Mean, Wet, Above.
I am from music,
Rock, indie, citypop,
Electric guitars,
Anti-mainstreamism,
Japanese love.
I am from green,
From olive,
From nature.
I am from red spicy rice,
With a side of hard, lukewarm chicken.
I am from unforgiving hot chocolate,
That scorches my tongue,
The side of toast and butter,
— like a meadow of yellow flora —
And the white saucer on which they sit.
I am from the beautiful Christmas lights,
And the annual cochinitos.
Rock hard.
I am from all of these things.
And none as well.
I
Am
Me
-Marz Barz, 12/19/25
If you had a wish.
A wonderful wish.
Just one.
Would you wish for a wand?
Wish for a waxy waning star?
Or would you wish for a whisper?
A small loving word.
I would wish for a willow.
A whimsical wisteria willow.
I would sit under her and wish.
And hope.
And dream.
I would’ve only had one wish,
But I can still hope and dream.
Hope like the weeping wisteria willow,
And dream like a stationary bike consumed by wanderlust.
Welled up with wishes.
-Marz Barz, 12/19/25
I was darkness,
but He saw my light
-Marz Barz, 1/24/26
california,
my precious poppy state.
those signature orange petals,
matched with the dense, brown fur.
home of gold and the surf.
you may be flawed,
but you're still my home, dude.
eureka!
-Marz Barz, 3/12/26
the motions and vibrations coursing through my veins
flowing and flowing im drowning in the deafning waves
the crowd forms to one, i am not me i am it.
the dance, the thrill, the excitement, the jive.
the speaker blasts inaudible gibberish to the grooveless, but
i know what it's saying.
vibe.
-Marz Barz, 3/26/26
can we take all of our books to heaven?
can we send our thoughtful notes up to God for safekeeping?
tell Him that we'll be there soon.
tell Him we are in the slow process of moving.
do we want to get there fast?
do we want to get there slow?
should we hold on to our books?
or let them be free.
Let Us Be Free.
-Marz Barz, somewhere in march 2026
[inspired by the youtube video "i heard you can bring all your books to heaven"]
in this poem, the last line is not about societal oppression it's about inward oppression. self-oppression. we (the human race) care too much. the poem focused on material things of this world but it's a general statement saying "yo bro ur father is the literal God of the universe. chill a bit."
hey.
just thinking about you.
i wish i could put a million thoughts
into a four-word text.
i could just spam you,
but that would make me feel a bit...
hypocritical.
after all, i have threatened you.
about spamming me.
so it wouldn't be fair.
but i meant thoughtless, repeated slop.
not actually meaning-rich lines.
you wouldn't get it.
i don't know why i would write this.
or what it means.
which is why i will never send it to you.
i would normally type ':)',
but i feel more like ":/"
goodbye. :/
-Marz Barz, somewhere inbetween march and april, 2026
i sit down at the dining table sipping tea.
earl grey because i woke up at 4 and don't
want to sleep at 1. i think about my birthday
tomorrow and my party and my best friend and
her mom and my second closest friend that can't
come and the weird dude who's online stalking
her. i think about how unfair my parents can be
and it drowns my mood, slowly and slowly i start to
frown. as i start becoming more and more blue, my
mom sits next to me and asks if i want some
potatoes. The potatoes are drizzled with ketchup and
a bit mushy. They are scorching hot so i eat some
complimentary avocadoes to cool my mouth. the potatoes
like a life guard. Dragging me out of the caffeinated
murky water. I sit there, in the dim light, silently stirring my
tea, noticing how the dip of the spoon disappears leaving the
handle behind. i feel just like the metal spoon, in a pink mug,
held by an 11 year old girl who's actually 12, who's feeling just like
her dark surroundings. Oh, it's 8. i'm off to school.
dont rly know if this is a poem or prose i think its poetic prose or whtevr
dw guys im not depressed it was just my birthday recently and for some reason the magic of your b-day coming up was not on me, so i wrote about it.
everything in this poetic prose thingie is true btw
i also rly wanted to try that thing some authorz do where they give hyperdetails (not a word i dont think) about everything to properly set a vibe and i think i got itttt
the sky looks like a porcelain vase
she is refined like glass,
bubbly like soda,
and blue like a June heatwave
she is tough but fragile
a thunderbolt would crack her
her creation would destroy
she would be angry but hurt
she is alone but beautiful
-Marz Barz, somewhere between late april and early may, 2026
thought this up when looking at the pretty sky during pe
And I felt their eyes. Curious, questioning,
malicious, kind. The million eyes of people who
will never know the whole. The enchilada of me.
And I felt nervous, weird, outcast, angry,
defiant. And I sat there. In my defiance.
In my quiet fury. And she came. Bless her heart she didn't know.
And I had to stand. Her outstretched arm dangling towards me
in the muted blue cushioned chair couldn't be ignored.
So I stood. I stood. I stood.
And they looked away.
But I sat again. And she sat with me.
this was written on (5/13/26).
How simple would it be,
to be a crow?
To be a dark creature of flight?
Of brain?
Of wordless knowledge, of quiet memory,
of curse, of venge.
-Marz Barz, 2025-6/5/2026
the first four lines were written last year, the rest were written while typing it today
I read a book that made me sit in silence for ten minutes
I broke up with a best friend
I howled for the first time in years
I watched a reality show where people conived and stole to survive
I ate food
I drank water
I felt the pain of knowing I had wasted my time with a despicable spider
I read the rules of the internet up to #46
I will talk about /b/
I am fully in agreement with piracy
I turned 12
My face is riddled with pimples
I am alone now
I love myself to the highest degree
I am so very weird
I have reached pure joy.
just a list of all the things that have happened so far this year, 7/4/26 (happy independence day gng)
if i cant get my
brain onto the paper
i will use the
magic gun of
desperate perseverance
to shoot my brain
and splatter it
across the paper.
-Marz Barz, 7/10/26
i pinky promise swear assure you i am not suicidal and am very mentally healthy twin let me explain:
this poem was borne of a frustration of artistically expressing my inner thoughts
it is using the act of shooting oneself in the head as an analogy that when faced with art block you draw anyways and power through even if the result is complete dogwater.
saying "get ur mind on that blank slate even if ur scared of the frankenstein that comes from it"
ALSO, i used death because normally after a long art block i re-invent myself thus far killing old me.
falling under crushing weight of self-expecting
stabbing pencil, paper; mirror's broken, fingers can not feel
crying out to social media, "make me cool, yes, make me better"
mind exploding pieces missing, patches new, "and now we're testing"
dead girls dream of stardom, too,
dead girls dream of stardom, too.
-Marz Barz, 7/22/26
alr, same as METACIDE i AM NOT mentally ill let me explain myself:
METACIDE and this poem go hand-in-hand
overall the poem is a reminder to myself to not forget all my previous phases when re-inventing myself,
to always remember my past passions and dreams, to always remember where i came from.
this is it broken down line-by-line, phrase-by-phrase:
"falling under crushing weight of self-expecting" the pressure i put on my self when i was younger to be better at traditional art
"stabbing pencil, paper" frustration of expecting things that were beyond my own skillset at the time and tearing up paper and stabbing them with my pencil
"mirror's broken, fingers can not feel" my hands were attributed to a broken mirror not reflecting my visions, the fingers that grip the pencil couldn't understand what i wanted
"crying out to social media make me cool, yes, make me better" watching HOURS of youtube drawing tutorials to increase capabilities lol
"mind exploding" frustration feels like my brain is going to combust (and splatter everywhere)
"pieces missing, patches new" losing part of myself, explosion gives way to new birth much like a supernova leaving behind a nebula in its wake
"and now we're testing" euphoric feling of reaching the artistic skill i wanted, play on words with "and now we're talking" because i treat my life as an experiment
"dead girls dream of stardom, too" the overall meaning in a few words; dead girls are the old me's that got shot with the magic gun
also this poem is actually a short song that i wanted to put into word form :D