Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

There’s a strange kind of exhaustion that comes from feeling emotionally out of sync with your surroundings.

Not just tired physically— but displaced internally.

Like your body exists in one place, while some deeper part of you keeps reaching toward another.
This piece came from that feeling.

From late nights, shifting sleep schedules, wandering thoughts, and the growing realization that sometimes longing isn’t just emotional—
sometimes it becomes geographic.

The Tagalog woven through this poem wasn’t added for aesthetic reasons. It felt necessary.

Because some emotions arrive more honestly in the languages tied to the places, people, and futures living inside your mind.

And maybe that’s what this piece really is:

a confession from someone physically rooted in one side of the world, while their heart keeps leaning toward another.

— Rowan Evans

Out of Sync
Poetry by Rowan Evans

Eyes open—
when they should be shut.

You’re awake
when you don’t want
to be up.

It’s hard to exist
when your day shifts.

Spirits fall
when nothing’s wrong
at all.

You’re just
out of sync…

Four in the evening
is near eight A.M.

Time is the distance
between my feet
and the streets
I want to walk.

Seryoso ako—

I want to go.
I want to leave
these streets behind.

They were never mine.

An American zombie,
sleepwalking
through life.

Because the only time
I feel alive—

ay kapag ako’y
nananaginip.

When I sleep,
I can walk
different streets—

body in the west,
puso sa silangan.

Journey into the Hexverse!

[They Trip on Meaning]
A free verse poem about miscommunication, emotional exhaustion, and the burden of constantly translating yourself for others.

[Global Takeover]
What if home isn’t a place—but something you build from the music you love? Global Takeover blends sound, culture, and identity into one borderless space.

[Two Americans]
What does it mean to share a country, a language, and still feel completely different? Two Americans explores identity, culture, and the quiet disconnect between people who should feel the same—but don’t.

[I Don’t Mean Life]
“I don’t want to be here” doesn’t always mean what people think. This poem explores identity, misunderstanding, and the weight of not feeling at home in your own environment.

[121° East]
A single line of longitude becomes something more—a reflection of distance, identity, and the quiet decision to become who you were always meant to be.

If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]