Up-and-coming singer-songwriter Tanisha Deka has released her latest indie pop single "i'll never learn," out on all streaming platforms today, September 26th. The track explores the painful psychology of toxic attachment, with powerful lyrics like "I'd rather hate myself than not love you" that cut straight to the core of unhealthy relationship dynamics.

Singer-songwriter Ana Luna returns with her striking new single "Bleeding Pen." The single follows songs like “Daddy’s Empire,” “Dance in a Trance,” and “Can We Pretend We Just Met At A Bar,” and paves the way for her debut album, due later this year.

Rising singer-songwriter Avery Lynch reveals her new EP, Glad We Met, out now via RECORDS/Sony Music. The 9-track EP includes previously released singles like “Rain,” “the boys who don’t know what they want,” “think about it,” “Dead to Me,” “Lasting Effects,” and “Sweetheart,” alongside a handful of new tracks. 

"Too much."

"Too affectionate."

"Drama queen."

"Overbearing."

I've heard variations of these words for as long as I can remember. Not always with cruelty-sometimes just as a casual observation-but they always seemed to suggest the same thing: that my way of feeling, caring, and expressing was somehow inconvenient, something to manage or mute.

We have often read and heard about childhood trauma and we are aware that it is a poignant subject. When a child experiences trauma it significantly affects their behaviour and emotional state; traumas often induce the feeling of solitude even in the presence of friends and family.

The lead up to turning 30 definitely felt like a momentous occasion, but then things were… the same. I didn’t wake up and feel as though I had magically changed overnight into this ultra-sophisticated put-together adult woman. I still felt as though I had no idea what I was really doing. But I think the most mature thing about turning 30 was accepting that that’s okay, learning that we are all on different paths, and understanding that everyone’s milestone birthday is going to look completely different.

I spend hours waving goodbye.

It hurts, doesn't it?

The goodbye that breaks my fingers and my heart.

I wave 'bye' to every last person I've ever dated...

The stars gaze back, but there's no way for me to greet them.

Neglect.

A word so cold,

that it pierces my soul,

 —and takes hold.

Tears bleed down my cheeks

    —Oh how I wish it were not so!

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.  I have lived my life,

    And so have you.

But I need,

       Something more.  (I need)

Something to love

       —With all of my heart.

All these lines.

All these words.

All these thoughts, scribbled across paper for a girl I do not see.

(Not know.)

Scribbled in ink, staining the paper.

                                    Staining my soul.

                                    …But she is—

                                    …she is beautiful…

I stand before you now. . .

We are two poets. . .

Will you let me be?

Will you accept my world as it is?

I've only just wished for a second chance. . .

The word feels strange on my tongue. Like I might just taste it and spit it out because it tasted wrong.

I might as well bite my tongue and taste blood than say that word out loud, because the word girlfriend has never been reserved for someone like me.

Don´t you remember what you wrote in that message on that cold rainy morning in May?

Because I remember crying while I hid under the covers, thinking the world had surely ended.

That is the question you probably ask yourself every time I see those three dots disappear.

When did this become so fucking one-sided?

When will I stop making the effort?

When will I call the time of death?

You turned 5, and I have still partially forgotten the moment you came into the world. 5 years too late to meet the precious woman you were named after. You see, you were given your time to greet the world on the same day that we lost her. Your great grandmother. I can only think she was watching over us that day.

we met late in july

by a break in the sky

now our love is penniless art

thunder, thunder

over and under

recite the tale of my heart

"Hello best friend!"

Scribbled on the first line,

your name,

carried in my heart,

and written on every page.

I have gotten used to invisible hands.

They held my gaze, whispered to me.

Like a phantom lover, they mesmerized me.

It has only been a short time since they touched me,

And yet I am certain I can feel them now.

I do not want to—I do.

It often needs a trigger warning, yet it happens every day. Often in homes, behind closed doors, sibling to sibling is the most common method - as heart breaking as that is to hear, it’s completely true. I suffered more than once with being victimised. But not at home, at school. A close school friend of mine, let’s call her Lara - for data protection reasons, abused me.