abyssmalbeing

[abyssmalbeing]

motion sickness really is THEE song about bad parental relationships to me . ik she wrote it about whatever fuckass dude she just broke up with at the time but i hate you for what you did and i miss you like a little kid was foundational to the mommy issues community . ​

[abyssmalbeing]

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

[abyssmalbeing]

[abyssmalbeing]

They'll never remember all the times you sat with them while they ranted about their life to you. They'll never remember all the times you sent them paragraphs of love and affection. They'll never remember the way you begged them to be safe. They'll never remember all the activities you did together, the laughs shared, bonding over movies and shows and music. They'll never remember how dedicated you were to fixing the problem. They'll never remember all the apologies you gave, even when they knew you owed them nothing. They'll never remember everything you tolerated, from the gaslighting to the mocking to the ignoring to the interrupting to the undermining, and how much you worked on fixing it FOR them. They'll never remember the tears you shed because you just didn't understand at what point where it went wrong.

And they'll never remember the way they treated you. The lack of affection on purpose. The lack of interest. The way they refused to talk to you because they weren't interested. The way they minimized you. The way they tried to find ways to argue on purpose. The way they threatened themselves if you didn't make your whole world about them. They'll never remember how selfish and cold they were toward you for having problems that meant you couldn't focus on THEIR problems. They'll never remember how they purposely stonewalled then gaslit you as the problem for not figuring out. They'll never remember being hostile and aggressive every time you talked to them about anything serious, and they won't remember how much they blamed you for the lack of communication in the relationship. They'll never remember all the times they turned average situations into a victimizing situation because they weren't used to not being the center of attention. They'll never remember how to be compassionate at convenient times, but also never remember being cold hearted and apathetic at all. They'll never remember bragging about all the things they know they've done, in fact they won't remember doing them at all. They won't remember stepping over boundaries, trapping, manipulating, and then crying victim. They won't remember how much they lacked when you needed them, they wont remember all the effort you put in as much as they will never remember the fact that they didnt put in effort at all. They won't remember how little they actually contributed to the good times. They won't remember the amount of times they told you one thing, then punished you for doing it instead of the opposite. They might not even remember what it means to be a human with humanity.

You know what they will remember? They'll remember seeing you distance yourself but won't understand why. They'll remember you becoming drained to the point of apathy, and won't understand why. They'll remember you refusing to start dialogue that will end in twists and accusations, but won't understand why. They'll remember the times you were too busy for them for a few hours (after they ignored you on purpose). They'll remember the one time you were flaky, the one time you didn't pick up that 80/20 effort, the one time you were disinterested in the topic being about themself, again, but will never understand why. They'll remember you arguing with them back. They'll remember how many times they tried to pretend they WEREN'T arguing so they could keep repeating it. They'll remember the way you tiredly watched them have another tantrum or go pout in the corner and won't understand why you won't reach out to them. They'll remember you suffering with mental illnesses and perceive it as an attack on THEM, they'll remember all the things you brought up that displeases them that they can use as a weapon against you (they just won't remember using it as a weapon). They'll remember all the broken promises you couldn't keep but won't understand its because they couldn't keep theirs. They'll remember forever not lasting for very long at all.

And they'll never remember that it's their fault.

[abyssmalbeing]

-- 09.29.2023

Drag youe hand from our base to our throat, displaying the grotesque of our meat. You display us in such a greusome way, dancing your hands and tools deep within our gut as we pour out into the tiles. My blood is in your hands, soaked inti the cracks of your skin and molding with the prints of your fingers. Our blood drips from your mouth, we are satisfied with being a gutteral display for you, and to satisfy your hunger.

Bent us iver the steel table, your throat on our neck and your hands slithering doen our shoulders, you sending praise for lettung ourself unfurl to your touch. You never deserved it, but we failed again.

How many times have we danced this, to be bowed backwards. Too many scars are displayed along our throat and chest from those who cravrd to rip into iur flesh and sink deep between our ribs. But you somehow managed to dig deeper, coil your fingers into our nerves and leave us shaking.Holding hands eith our intestings and clawing down the from of our spine.

we never planned to have anyone get this deep into us. To listen to our pitiful groans from blood loss, from delusion. To have you have us displayed like a pinned butterfly. To think we could love purely, to feel purely, to feel safe in our skin and flesh and blood, to accept we are nothing but meat. But now, we lay here. Our own hands within the emoty cavity you left us, shuddering from the cracks in iur spin and the marks you left on our throat. We cannot sob, all of our fluids have already crawled to the drain of your room.

Im sorry we let you have those tools, we are sorry you left us with stitches, we're sorry you left us with pieces missing.

Your fullness is temporary, but scars this deep do not fade, its an ugly reminder of the hands that laid us on. Its an ugly reminder to know our skin was never our own, its an ugly reminder that we have nothing to own; not even ourselves.

We believed we have been ripped apart enough, we have coubtent scars from the base of our tail bone to the temple of our forehead, people biting and clawing to feast upon our skin. But no one has entered. We can hide the scars, make up stories to hide their true history. But we can't hide this.

We stay clithes for fear of seeing the jagged lines from your claws tracing aling our frame like a crease in paper, we are afraid of reflections of seeing the marks from your burns.

We have nothing, and we stay silent.

Corpses don't speak, for that was our autopsy.

[abyssmalbeing]

-- 09.29.2023

Carve into our soul, we are clay under your cracked hands, feeling our own dried flesh pressed against our fresh membrane. Mold and press us into the shapes you desire for yourself, strike us down if unsatisfied. Carve away at us, leave hard edges for us to crumble into and drown us in our own blood, rejuvinate and love us and press us under your weight. We fold into the table you secured us to like a patient strapped to the cold steel prepared to be devoured.

We have no scars, you mend them with your sweat mixed with our blood, we praise you for being so gentle to us. We thank you for not throwing us away, We thank you for not shattering us, we thank you for all the things that should not be rewarded for. But who else do we praise when have felt nothing but suffocation in a tightly packaged bag.

You can abuse us and carve your fingers into our core and stretch us til we crach, mold us comfortable and achungly to our limit. We do not get the climax and we do not get the rest, we are overstimulated and we are sore.

But we will not remember, because we are nothing but clay.

[abyssmalbeing]

-- 09.29.2023

greiving with the storm, joining the lighting as we sucumb to the barrage of our own flashes. The rain pounding on the cement in beat with our collapsing lungs. What are we but not another storm to wait out through, to keep others in their homes.

Animals always know, fleeing before the static lifts the hair on our neck. Sweat dripping down and shaking, thunder rattling our skull and shattering our core. We are nothing but a storm. A storm to flood your rivers, a storm to fill your strees, a storm to take away things you left out.

what are we but a demonic beast to roll over the people around us. A darkness rolling in, having onlookers prepare themselves. keep shelter.

What good does it do, does any of this do.

Keeping ourselves from raining will only bring drought to our soul. Leave us dry and cracked, not longer able to produce crops to feed. Leaving your tounge and nose caked in the foul dust of our bitterness. Spitting out the grime into our dusty soil only to watch it evaporate, leaving the dirt to become one with us again.

what then.

we appreciate what water people give us, to rehydrate our broken soil. Or enjoy us during the storm, watching our rain fondly and listen to the roar of our thunder.

but the water will always evaporate, and the rain will always rain.

What are we but the earth, in its most painful form.

poluted eith the people who raveged our bodies from our skin to in our core, what are we not of the stories we forget but can always feel. Like polution in our soul we cannot filter, the humans produce nothing but slime into to seas of our soul and ravenge the earth of our bodies. Abusing us to our core, extinction of life.

Is there not an option for us, but to continue to soin and float through the time of space and continue to let ourselves be carved into like a scalpel into clay. Feeling coils fall from our flesh, our blood sucked dry like starving pups to their mother.

What else are we but tk be tapped dry, what else are we but a storm to destory, what else are we but a drought to bring nothing but disapointment.

we are the earth, and we are dying.

[abyssmalbeing]

solitude

[abyssmalbeing]

I MISS YOU MORE THAN I REMEMBER YOU; ON FATHERS AND THEIR GHOSTS

valeria luisielli // cecilia corrigan // clementine von radics // ocean vuong // nicola yoon // catherine lacey // leanna firestone

[abyssmalbeing]

Mikko Harvey Wind-Related in the Wheatfield // Jonny Bolduc open question @jovialtorchlight // Cheryl Strayed Tiny Beautiful Things // @/mkpoet (instagram) // Mary Oliver Count the Roses // Phoebe Bridgers Waiting Room // Fyodor Dostoyevsky // Marie Howe Magdalene Afterwards; "Magdalene: Poems"

[abyssmalbeing]

Car seat headrest // Richard Siken // Sotce // Larissa Pham // Amy Winehouse // Katherine Fabrizio // car seat headrest

[abyssmalbeing]

YOU BIT INTO ME AND I WASN'T AS SOFT AS YOU EXPECTED; ON PERVERTED LOVE.

i. b. vyache // unknown // isabel allende // dante émile (@orpheuslament) // rainer maria rilke // florence + the machine // unknown // clarice lispector // @ruhlare

[abyssmalbeing]

kaveh akbar, 'calling a wolf a wolf' // doc luben, 'love letters or suicide notes' // @/nutnoce, tumblr // 'my body's made of crushed little stars', mitski // @/ojibwa, tumblr // 'spring', mary oliver

[abyssmalbeing]

EVERY TIME I LOOK BACK, MY CHILDHOOD GROWS HORNS; ON AGING.

lorde // iasoup on tumblr // alain de botton // jenny slate // katie maria // silas denver melvin // chelsea wolfe

[abyssmalbeing]

—mothers

ijeoma umebinyuo // hyatt moore // class of 2013 by mitski // i, tonya (2017) // ? // gustav klimt // ? // lady bird (2017) // i remain in darkness by annie ernaux

[abyssmalbeing]

-Sylvia Plath. (The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath)

[abyssmalbeing]

My home will be a home with no loud anger, no explosive rage, no slamming doors or breaking glass, no holes punched into the walls, no name calling, shaming or blackmail. My home will be gentle, it will be warm. No fear, no hurt and no worries. I may come from a broken and twisted place but I will build something whole and safe.