Fluffy cotton balls filled to the brim
Bending until they burst
Soft tears trickle down from them
Until they reach my shingled rooftop
The fluffy cotton balls get darker the more
They let their water go
And I notice the wind whipping my hair as I listen
The rain taps and rapps
And rolls down into our plastic gutters
I listen until I can't let it go anymore
I swing open our white and creaky screen door
Running out to feel the temperature drop
Framing our cold concrete porch
A place so gray it matches the peeling paint
Lies a dead flower bed not yet bloomed for the spring
We've had more rain here lately and our yard is lopsided
But the flower bed is calling
Framing our muddy overflow
As with every drop does more mud come,
Are wooden blocks maybe 6 inches long
So soft I could cradle them at night
So soft I could use them to rest
So soft I can hear them tell me everything is going to be okay
I flip them over one by one
Until my mind is satisfied
Busy bustling beetles reach for the moisture
Worms smarter than their brothers on the sidewalk
Wiggling and writhing underneath my shadow
Pill bugs.
I pick them up, all kinds of bugs,
Place them delicately in my palm
I feed the ants my lollipops
After I've licked it enough that it's soft
Sticky fingers and sticky mouth
My sticky face hovering to watch
I love to feed them
Pill bugs all curled up in my palm
I'll stand in this rain until the bugs go home
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Thoughts on the only one I'd ever let hurt me;
Swirl your finger in my ear, tap inside of my eardrum. The reverberations won't sing back whistles of anxiety or fear, only the love that I hold inside for someone. I've loved stronger than that of an old willow tree, rooted deep down into the pits of the universe. I've often asked dogs to please please just bite me, for if I'm left alone I'll spiral into my own forbidden curse. I haven't sang my song to you yet for fear of what you'll think, though I know you were the one to open my vocal chords first. When I first lashed out and bit at your hand faster than I could blink, I echoed the agony of love that could at once make my heart burst. My auburn sunrise that I hold late at night as though I'll never greet you again, please God let me bite at your fingers. Because though it seems my love doesn't pour as much as I swear my mind does rain, the ache of the past still lingers. Do not let me go in this lifetime I beg you, I'll claw my eyes open until I bleed. I haven't felt the iceberg crash more times than two, but I'd sink with the boat if only you'd take the lead.
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Here's something I wrote in 2021 when i was battling an eating disorder. Enjoy the cringe fest won't you?
Oozing crystallized pain from a dark
Place of deep and bruised strain
I find a laceration of hatred
Tucked between the rolls
Butter rolls
No I mean paper rolls rolls of paper
The kind you use to write your equations on
Well no now you mentioned food what of it
Calories
No salary
I only made 12 dollars this week
I ate 1200 calories this week
Are you proud of me
My stomach turns
I've found that bruise I told you about
Deep in the pit of my stomach
It lurches forward
Pie
No cherry pie
No the number pie
Yes math I say school's been crazy
I lost my friend the other day can you make
These thoughts just stop?
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Clattering Spoons
Whisps of cotton
Flung high into the air
Clinging onto hope
My brain spinning against my skull
I breathe in and out slower
My jaw chatters
Who's hands are these?
Who's feet?
My knees clack against each other
My fingers begin to peel
I can't seem to get this right
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I sit inside a draped skeleton
A wooden skeleton
The kind with creaking noises at every lunge
Draped with soft Grey cloth.
I glance at the vipers tongue
Lashing out as sunlight shines down upon it
From the crooked corner.
I see ghosts of lilacs
Echoes of mourning doves
A billowing steam boils over my hands
I inhale the breeze as it catches my neck.
Ticking of a clock serves forth no purpose
Not amidst the echoes of nicotine walls
Not amidst agony washed phantoms
Not amidst whimsical dreams of what is.
I sit a sipping my usual morning coffee
Admiring the forethought I had years ago
Sunbeams lighting up the craters on my cheeks
I still the creaking chair and grin.
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What if I chase the dream and it fails? I asked.
Maybe the more important question is - who do I become when I stop chasing my dreams? he answered.
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When I slipped the pages down my fingers
A pervasive sting causing a wince
Not at the flap of skin left behind
But the bloody handprint
Pressed deep into the heart and soul
Of every single woman that I know
The curvature of the R
Tearing the guts out one at a time
I miss the peace
The piece if me left there with him
30 percent he whispers
Children
20 percent
Women
A creeping crawling seeping sting
The skin begins to break before me
I fold the paper back up
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A conversation with my brain
Me: okay brain! Time to get creative!
Brain: *noises of pure agony and rage*
Me: Okay...time to rest?
Brain: Who do you think I am? Sloth reincarnate?
Me: What about some productive self care?
Brain: I will have a meltdown, right. now.
Me: So what do you want to do?
Brain: Sit on a cold, hardwood floor and count the ceiling tiles.
Me: No.
Brain: oh yes
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I gnaw on the lateral sides of my tongue,
planted firmly to the inside of my hollow cheeks
I ripped a hangnail off too fast,
it ripped up my hand and over my head
till I've pulled a heartstring,
It reverberates through my throat,
making me gnaw harder.
Fidgeting with my skin is a poisonous habit,
an ache an addiction I cannot banish
I wiggle my toes as I hold her picture,
knocking my knee against tables and corners
Smiling as I pull off all of my nails.
Without the girl whose picture I clutch,
I rip off chunks and gnaw off pieces of myself
until all that is left is the blonde girl,
the blonde-haired girl curled up on the carpet
taking pictures of the only things she has ever known.
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Tiny Creatures
Before, when I was small,
everyone said I talked too much.
My squeaking voice a door hinge
that had never gotten the grease.
Before, when I was little,
My ramblings were loud and audacious
with sharp edges,
like that of a razor blade on every word.
Before, when I was tiny,
I tried to bite my tongue
hoping for the blood to clog my thoughts
when the excitement would well up
heavily behind my eyes.
Tiny creatures, tiny children, small angels
We consistently feel a tightness in our throat
An excitement bubbling inside our belly
Until the words curl over as tears.
Can adults speak of passion they have never cried out?
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Flower Kisses in Aching Bones
Deeply I inhale the sunflower scent,
The blue sky boost of Seratonin
I hadn't felt the blades of grass in months
The orange kiss of the sun
It laughed on my cheeks.
When my bones lay deepest
Settled, nestled into corners of my skin you cannot reach
I dive into the clear blue waters.
Full of fissures beyond repair,
You have forgotten every quick and vacant sin.
As my peace dances among honeybees and tulips
Your laugh does grow among the daisies
While the rose pettles fall as the sun does set
I hear your comfort near,
settled into a path I'd never noticed.
I had dug throughout the brush many a cold night
Dark mayflies inside of my ears
their hum taunting my every desire
But the path you'd shown me, so dim at first
It was always there
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To Love the Ocean
The mousey creaking of my voice and his chair,
noises echoing off the amber tar soaking up
all the porous words we exchange
and his lungs are like cotton balls.
I imagine plundering heavily through his conscience and lap
He shoved me away again,
a dynamic intertwined like hemlock roots,
I do not understand
I ask for a hierarchy
Grasping at every clear-celled containment of poison as I fall
Down to the pyramid bottom and scrape my knees.
To yearn for affection from an ocean wave
is to guess when your ears will hum, and salt will burn the blood
the scuffle of agony you already felt when he denied you
Never, note this down,
never ask the ocean to cease its waves
merely stand from afar and abhor its secrets
its venomous creatures in its deathtrap nature.
I want to be held.
I asked to be held as a small child would if they'd never received it,
Hesitantly and excitedly
A foul name.
Breathlessly I back away clawing at the fissures in my palms
In a way, these words carve holes in my ears
Big enough for slices of me to slide into
To fold into
To hold myself.
The creaking of my voice and his chair quickly turns to laughter
As the footrest slams down and the newly places wave comes to crash down on me again,
I remember:
He never promised to get better.
I only expected it.
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I Hate Love Poems
You trudge through my space as though I do not remember
the first time my head found your chest
the first time I heard your beating heart
and you taught me how to be still.
The first time your caramel eyes whispered to me about love.
You carry yourself as though I do not remember
the feeling of your fingertips running across my shoulders
and dancing through my hair
every night that I close my eyes.
You breathe in nervously as though
I do not elate at the sight of auburn fire
a sunrise sent especially for me
Disguised oh-so casually.
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I don't know where to Go
I sit along a river bank, the rocky kind,
the kind with sand wedged between the snails
I don't have much to me, I'm the overall kind,
the denim kind where pockets are full of holes.
I watch the fish fly by, the pretty kind,
the kind that leap into nets as fast as they're born
My lungs haven't scraped the ocean floor, the sandstone kind,
the pink tissue kind of lung where an inhale feels like iron.
I scoop up dead birds, the black crow kind,
as I trudge the embankment with mud in my pores
I know I saw a path somewhere, the stepping stone kind,
the kind that could take me home.
But instead, I sit along a river bank, the forgotten kind,
Moss overgrowing my once feathery hair,
and mushrooms accompany my soft skin as it folds
into nature, the beautiful kind,
Where peace and moving forward have not met in years.
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Abusive Relationships
I felt the dark, swirling eyes dancing around me,
A fire circle of judgment
I felt over and over again this hate
I've never been more curious about a sensation
As if my back tooth aches when I chew
And yet I clench my jaw to feel its pleasant sting.
I never loved a sensation more
than the gentle slicing of his thoughts
As I can feel his heart beating and racing against mine
Ripping open my wounds one by one
sunshine beaming on his face
I would die to soak in those rays
I can die with these oozing aches.
What does worth mean to an everyday mind
it is an enigmatic question
it is an aching amidst the bones
locked inside of a freezer
they never seem to thaw
my bones they hurt
and yet I grind their fissures down,
I have wanted to go home for so long.
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