Tag Archives: emotional

Postcards From Crystal River

you are the open window in an elsewhere, rustic, countryside summer

where drowsy bumblebees rest contentedly by the pollen-speckled glass

and little emerald drops of shy foliage sometimes dare to cautiously peek in

before the shooing breeze languidly billows them all out to heaven knows where

.

luminous sunshine glows ardent on tan skins and pales against cotton curtains

a curious puppy might loll its head lazily about and bark at scampering squirrels

and the sticky rose vanilla soda gives way to the thawing rivulets down my blouse

perhaps i’ll rise from my wicker chair and have a nap soon—or perhaps just five more minutes.

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wanderlust

you are

raindrops

trickling into

my blood

.

the sight of

the new world

after a long

tiring voyage

.

rusty chain links

rattling against

the street youth’s

scuffed shoes

.

five thousand

ways to say

maybe i like

the way you are

.

warm sunset

trapped in

a mason jar

and buried

.

an innocent

kind of swear

the one that

draws a blush

.

the humming

at the back of

a sad song

in b flat minor

.

a ticklish

kind of green

sticky clumps

of feline fur

.

the start of

a good movie

a back-alley

kind of kiss

.

a saturday

forgotten

a leap year

birthday blues

.

argonaut dreams

and cosmic hail

and candle wax

and old poetry

.

you are all

these things

and more, but

you are not

.

h e r e

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pseudonym [8]

am i the letdown that shook the foundation of their worries?

never did it to myself, but it seems i only ever did it to please

distichs and dead ends weren’t enough to keep me occupied

you left me spent, the choice i made just leads to a shortsight

.

callous, beguiling, simpleminded, though blindly overdramatic

indelible yet impossible, a performative living that feels emetic

zipped-up lips and narcolepsy hide a contraband of nightmares

embarking past columned spines, still seeking hope in nowhere

kept only by the promises disgraced—perhaps it was never really fair.

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defence mechanism

“be forewarned”

your whispered chagrin

stains my mouth

with perplexed nicotine

.

a spiteful stare

the gaps in my rationality

stolen spare parts

i’m rendered in cataplexy

.

graze my nape

our vascular constriction

but it turned out

to be just a bold distinction

.

to find the switch

and fumble with our sorrows

i’m a clockwork elegy

but i’ll still be here tomorrow.

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chemical

pointless,

repetitious,

elaborate

daydreams

and a kind

of euphoria

that feels

like tasting

angel dust

and battery acid—

maybe that’s

all i’ll ever really

have with you.

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beautiful creature [spoken word poetry]


(uhhh idfk but here’s an absolutely terrible first actual attempt at spoken word poetry bc my rationality is severely dysfunctional ooft. sorry if i sound very weird. and talk very bad. i’m not exactly radio voice material but i tried?? i sound so annoyingly manic here that’s because i am and no one’s probably gonna listen to this so what am i even making excuses up for. this is far from my usual content but 2020’s a year of trying dumb regrettable shit i guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)


beautiful creature

i am jealous of you,

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature.

beautiful, tiny, skinny, pretty

do you not know how it feels

to be so frustratingly jealous of you?

perhaps you do.

perhaps you wrap a ribbon around

your waist and your wrists and grab both ends and pull hard—

until your organs start to embrace each other

and the lack of blood makes your cheeks glow

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

so pretty, perhaps each freckle on

your perfectly angled nose is mirrored

from every constellation in the sky

and your smile never grows crooked

because you practice in front of the mirror everyday,

lifting each corner delicately until the wind fixes it

into that permanent, enchanting look

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

watch how they so adore you,

an undivided attention filled only with

wish-i-was and want-to-be’s and maybe-if-i…

but i will never be

you. beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

i pull at my ribbons until my veins start to show

but it snaps in half and flies back to my face; oh, my face,

whose spots reflect the craters in the dark side of the moon

and every time i try to smile, it’s a lunar eclipse

“witchcraft!” they call it

but which one am i?

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

beautiful, tiny, skinny, pretty

our monsters are the same,

but why do yours look so

god damn beautiful?

when you speak, it hurts

and when i listen, it hurts even more

you can’t talk to yourself like that,

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

there is someone out there who will

willingly ask for all your monsters

i’ll make them behave, i’ll take care of them, i promise

and you’ll still be beautiful

and tiny, and skinny, and pretty

and i’ll have more monsters

but i will still be

me.

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mouse [blackout poetry]

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Paternoster

I still look for you

In suffocating temples

Within the faith I lost

And in mindless rituals

.

Mumbled promises

The kind I couldn’t keep

Memories that grow

More distant as I sleep

.

I still look for you

When the pangs cut through

All the could-have-beens

Just a name they never knew

.

Maybe there’s an afterlife

And maybe I’ll turn out okay

Memories will stay with us

Even if you’re long gone away.

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troublemaker

bloodstain love

and skinny jeans

on emulated flesh

paynes grey eyes

.

lip full of dyspnea

busted-up trainers

a stimulated heart

dishonest one-two

.

bold fisticuffs dare

acrimonious glance

a lying spectograph

misophonic angels

.

incendiary madness

death for the lepers

endangered mentality

but only ever for you.

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