Hope hides around the corner of now and later, but later is always under construction - later never arrives. see me look at me i’m hurting i need you [later never came] i love you please stop please you're breaking me but you love me [later never came] yes he hurt me too i’m sorry it’s my fault
The monster cries my eyes red and then sore and then closed each and every night. The monster screams my veins deep deep deep and I can no longer carve them out. The monster stretches my limbs lazy until they can barely turn over on a restless mattress. The monster reminds me not to eat so that one day I won’t have to feel so damn sad. I know shes right. I grew my monster not op of sweatsoaked sheets and empty lies of love because I never learned how to love myself. I made my monster with care, and she cares enough to never leave me alone.
It’s hard to climb slothscarred trees worm smooth and sleek from miles worth of measured handfalls - a human palm naturally slipgrips most of what it grasps. A human palm rarely aims true, rarely finds its hold, rarely anchors a human body up and onward. Slow and steady reaches the finish line, while brash and reckless only gets burned when it reaches the sun.
i) everyone knows once upon a time paris perished to passion every sunset inside of closed curtains ii) villains vanquish every safe corner iii) nightmares are born everywhere between sweatfilled sheets beneath shards of ideas behind foreclosed plots of plaster and grass nightmares are born every day iv: everyone knew once upon a time florida falls into the sea every summer to be overtaken by sharks v) every moment is three and a half mnutes long and s t r e t c h e s past forever
I am not broken - I am not a snapped hair tie to be tossed in the nearest trash, soon to be replaced; I am not a rusty trunk latch to be taped and retaped into the shape of what I used to be capable of; I am not a spluttering dishwasher to be deconstructed, reconstructed, rehired, repiped because I am not quite out of date yet; I am worn, I am tired, I am battlescarred and scared of the dark; I am not broken.
i) I tread
light
bright
buoyant
on an ocean
of apologies;
don't come
too close,
you'll drown.
ii) I want to be
your perfect little girl -
I will hide
the shame
under my fingernails
(just like
you taught me)
and smile the smile
that shines in your face
and breaks
down my throat.
iii) I want to be
your perfect partner -
I will remold
and remold
and remold
and remold;
I unmake myself
in your image.
iv) I want to be
your perfect friend -
I will give
every inch
to you
and cry
behind my hands
for every inch
you pull
away.
v) My body
shakes my bones loose
with every syllable
I do not swallow.
Yoy are not safe,
I am not safe.
Pull you
i) i cry quiet
into harvestred hands
after the bubble
builds too big in my mouth
ii) do we ever
recover?
iii) guilt
anguish
shame
smile
iv) i deposit dust and dirt
into my bed
to make my nightmares
itch
v) she is nothing to me
past
present
ever again
i) some bodies
fit like a glove
mine fits
like an oil spill
my hands
scum everything
they touch
my feet
slick a trail
of filth
i always know
where i've been
ii) you are always in my body and
you never come out
you never come out
you never come out
you
never
come
out
iii) your body is a temple
my body is a cage
a cliff
a piece of scrap metal
that twists and twists
and gouges and digs
wrecks itself into the cement
but never manages
to die
Hope hides around the corner of now and later, but later is always under construction - later never arrives. see me look at me i’m hurting i need you [later never came] i love you please stop please you're breaking me but you love me [later never came] yes he hurt me too i’m sorry it’s my fault
The monster cries my eyes red and then sore and then closed each and every night. The monster screams my veins deep deep deep and I can no longer carve them out. The monster stretches my limbs lazy until they can barely turn over on a restless mattress. The monster reminds me not to eat so that one day I won’t have to feel so damn sad. I know shes right. I grew my monster not op of sweatsoaked sheets and empty lies of love because I never learned how to love myself. I made my monster with care, and she cares enough to never leave me alone.
It’s hard to climb slothscarred trees worm smooth and sleek from miles worth of measured handfalls - a human palm naturally slipgrips most of what it grasps. A human palm rarely aims true, rarely finds its hold, rarely anchors a human body up and onward. Slow and steady reaches the finish line, while brash and reckless only gets burned when it reaches the sun.
i) everyone knows once upon a time paris perished to passion every sunset inside of closed curtains ii) villains vanquish every safe corner iii) nightmares are born everywhere between sweatfilled sheets beneath shards of ideas behind foreclosed plots of plaster and grass nightmares are born every day iv: everyone knew once upon a time florida falls into the sea every summer to be overtaken by sharks v) every moment is three and a half mnutes long and s t r e t c h e s past forever
I am not broken - I am not a snapped hair tie to be tossed in the nearest trash, soon to be replaced; I am not a rusty trunk latch to be taped and retaped into the shape of what I used to be capable of; I am not a spluttering dishwasher to be deconstructed, reconstructed, rehired, repiped because I am not quite out of date yet; I am worn, I am tired, I am battlescarred and scared of the dark; I am not broken.
i) I tread
light
bright
buoyant
on an ocean
of apologies;
don't come
too close,
you'll drown.
ii) I want to be
your perfect little girl -
I will hide
the shame
under my fingernails
(just like
you taught me)
and smile the smile
that shines in your face
and breaks
down my throat.
iii) I want to be
your perfect partner -
I will remold
and remold
and remold
and remold;
I unmake myself
in your image.
iv) I want to be
your perfect friend -
I will give
every inch
to you
and cry
behind my hands
for every inch
you pull
away.
v) My body
shakes my bones loose
with every syllable
I do not swallow.
Yoy are not safe,
I am not safe.
Pull you
i) i cry quiet
into harvestred hands
after the bubble
builds too big in my mouth
ii) do we ever
recover?
iii) guilt
anguish
shame
smile
iv) i deposit dust and dirt
into my bed
to make my nightmares
itch
v) she is nothing to me
past
present
ever again
i) some bodies
fit like a glove
mine fits
like an oil spill
my hands
scum everything
they touch
my feet
slick a trail
of filth
i always know
where i've been
ii) you are always in my body and
you never come out
you never come out
you never come out
you
never
come
out
iii) your body is a temple
my body is a cage
a cliff
a piece of scrap metal
that twists and twists
and gouges and digs
wrecks itself into the cement
but never manages
to die
I, the wizard of randomisms. by tirasunil, literature
Literature
I, the wizard of randomisms.
The castle of the dead is
a beautiful and burning thing
of scars left unsigned:
regret is a blank page and
innocence is bliss, but
take no one's word for it -
bullets of abstraction are
interrupting the fall of
symphonies of dreams
(telephones and cortisone,
antiseptic and postage stamps,
a spell caster's practice)
- a cat fest bone deep,
stenciled smiles on paper hearts,
death in the rain. So,
I demand that you live for me,
my manic pixie dream,
on an autumn night with thoughts of dying:
think of me when you're out there,
my sehnsucht,
my scintillae,
until you stop growing old.
i. Did you hear
the sunshine
whisper your name?
ii. I drowned you,
quietly,
in seashells
and nightmares.
iii. One day,
maybe tomorrow
or the next day,
you will smile again.
iv. Your snowflake casket
cracks and melts
the asphalt.
v. Your hair
and eyes
both dress in black
for the occasion.
vi. I lilt you
into phrases
and metaphors
to forget you.
i. I shed snake skin
from rawred bones
that bend and bleed
when my fingers flex.
ii. Sand papers your veins
in ugly decibels of bronze,
a jubilant lie
that does not escape
refrigerated teeth.
iii. They say salvation lies
in a promised land,
but I say that promises
lie.
iv. Apologies chocolate my tongue,
saccharine acids yours,
and together
we swallow.
A Leaf, Fallen (trigger warning) by BlackBowfin, literature
Literature
A Leaf, Fallen (trigger warning)
there is no manual for loss
not one that fits in human hands
just programs, policies
and symbols for the staff,
unassuming, visual reminders
to execute the sensitivities
outlined in their training
grief is a symbol, nicely-printed
on quality cardstock,
grief is placed strategically
in and outside the room,
its scene stands out
as darker than it actually is
since its placard
hosts the only real colors
on a ward of pastel pinks,
blues and yellows
and there, within the four sides
of its cleanly cut cardstock,
a leaf floats, too light
to break the surface tension
of a still stream
i'm sure a marketing study was performed
various walks of life,
Chance Encounter. by BleedingProphecies, literature
Literature
Chance Encounter.
maybe we don’t meet ourselves
until we’re free falling from bridges,
or holding our childhood dog
during a storm,
or listening to our soulmate say
he doesn’t give third chances,
or lying on stretchers
in the back of ambulances,
or waiting barefoot and sunken-eyed in the kitchen for dawn
because we’ve dropped our midnight snack
and can’t see the ceramic shards against the blackness;
but nobody talks in my head tonight
so maybe these words are mine.
sunday.
I define my poetry as
an alphabet soup of
mediocre one-liners
gone cold.
monday.
My words brace to splatter
against the microwave walls
of some unfortunate skull.
tuesday.
My lips are chapping,
confessing yours
to some disembodied thing
that coaxes them calmly.
wednesday.
My stomach releases
the butterflies that occupied it
in the days we occupied each other.
thursday.
My name is
the softest word
in a sentence
I wasn’t meant to hear.
friday.
My eyes open
because today is a part
of my
cosmic blip.
saturday.
I define my poetry
as the leech
that bleeds me.
i am finding much simpler joys in my now than the elaborate ones i tried to give you.
for example just a moment or two ago I smiled quite sincerely at the act of sharing a table with a cute boy who complemented my poetry reading, and in the moments just before at sharing a night with someone with the fractured sadness of knowing that dawn means a goodbye or at the very least a see you later. but it's enough to feel the warmth for that one living second, for that drunken embrace, never mind the too-bright morning where i'm left on sweaty bed sheets in a room haunted by cologne which seems to cling to every fixture he so much as glanced at.
t
I’m getting my stimulus check, finally. It took me a while to get my taxes all sorted out, but I got it done. Anxiety makes everything I try to do 12309892x harder, and I’m so sick of it. But anyway. I’m trying to figure out if I want to pursue getting a chapbook published. Who has experience with this that can lend me some advice? I will love you forever. :heart: Now that my state is opening back up, I’m able to do some job searching. My therapist thinks that I should maybe work part time and do disability while I work on getting all this anxiety and PTSD under control. I hate that idea, but maybe. Sorry to be so rambly. Thank you for reading. I really have missed this place.
It’s been a minute. I haven’t had access to dA other than on my phone in quite a long time. I know I’ve been super inactive for quite a while. Life always has ups and downs for everybody, and it’s been pretty down for me still. I guess that makes me want to kind of withdraw. So I’ve been busy doing that. I also haven’t found it very easy to try to interact with this place just using the app on my phone. So who knows. Maybe I’ll be back. Maybe I’ll also drop off again for a while. I’ve really appreciated all the love for what I have submitted here and there, despite my hardly being around. You guys really are the greatest. Tell me the best thing that’s happened to you this month? So far. I know the world is kind of crazy right now...with the whole....you know, pandemic thing. That’s happening. It’s personally helping to amp up some of my favorite PTSD symptoms. So there’s that. Maybe one day soon the world will be back to normal again. That would be fine.
It's been a minute.
Life has been a struggle, not going to lie. I think I'm finally starting to resurface and come out on top of all the shit that's been going on. I've been doing a lot of work to be a more stable and functional member of society again. Maybe I'll explain that more at a later time when I have some more distance from recent months. I don't know.
I've submitted here and there and hardly done any responding to all the amazing feedback I've gotten. I'm sorry. I do miss it here. I may be back with more regularity. I'd like to be. I really want to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart for still paying attention to what I d