garden-weeds - Tumblr blog

[garden-weeds]

YOU LOVE THE SUNSET’S PINK SO BAD YOU FRET ABOUT THE SKY BECOMING DARK

OBLIVIOUS TO THE FACT THE PINK IS ALREADY PURPLE

[garden-weeds]

I WANTED TO PUT THE SUNSET IN MY MOUTH

UNCARING THAT THE BLAZE WOULD HURT ME

I WANTED THE RUBY REDS

THE GOLDS, SOFT PINK

THE DEWY BLUES AND VIBRANT PURPLES

BUT BEHIND MY TEETH THE LIGHT WAS SHARDS

THE SKY WAS SUNK, BLACKENED, BRILLIANT NAVY, MUTED AND DULL, THE WORLD UNSEEABLE.

I GOT THE RED. THE PIECES CUT MY GUMS.

[garden-weeds]

—so i start it in the middle. Maybe from the middle it will begin to make sense, maybe from the moment i feel it and no other moment. There is no other moment but to feel it in the moment, so if i’m happy i’m happy and if i’m sad i’m sad and what could you want more from that? If it’s sunny one hour and cloudy the next what do you call it all day? partly cloudy, mostly sunny, cloud sun sun cloud cloud sun. Every day is a step towards boiling, but every day is the same as the last so every day is just the baseline and if the baseline is boiling when do we jump out of the pot? if i want to kill myself one moment and live forever the next, is there truth in one or both or neither? I want to live in every moment simultaneously, like they do in whatever dimension exists beyond our own. Where it doesn’t matter what step to take because all the steps are there, at every point. What would it feel like? I imagine it to be the same. I want to live where time is every moment and every moment is felt at once instead of one at a time one at a time one at a time one at a

i don’t know how to start poetry. I don’t know how to begin to write. And i don’t know how to end it.

[garden-weeds]

is it okay to be a poet with not many words?

distilled; my brain is frantic, my mouth is slow.

Is it okay to be as simple as i am?

maybe if i think enough, i’ll create some words entirely mine.

maybe if i think enough, i can sew new holes into my fabric.

[garden-weeds]

Does it make you poetic: the unwritten promise of an end?

[garden-weeds]

how dare you,

for you to take the tools from my hands — to soften my calluses, to wipe the dirt and clean my nails,

to tell me i had done enough for others, to tell me you wanted to do the work for me?

What a sin!

to feel like i deserve to be wanted.

[garden-weeds]

I want to make you ache.   is that too much? is it? I want you to ache with missing me — i want you to feel how i feel around you. Whenever i can't be around you. I want you to a c h e , i do. but I hate when you're sad. You're much to much for me, but I can't let go. I could never let go, I think.

A cruel heart beats within me, so loud i can hardly get to sleep.

[garden-weeds]

do i love you or are you just an idea i’m obsessed with? A love that will never bear fruit is the sweetest love of all.

[garden-weeds]

In another universe, we're in love   in another universe, we've never met.

i don’t know which i’d rather be in.

[garden-weeds]

You love them.                                  but I don't. Not anymore. not the way I used to, when it would tie me to the mast of a sinking ship in a storm. But you love them.                                 Maybe, but not as much. Not the way I did, choking for air under layers of earth, burying myself in self proclaimed funeral.   But you love them.                                    Perhaps, if things had been different. Would we even have been good together? Would I have  burned myself by their hearth, unable to stop the smoke from tearing up my lungs?   But you love them.                                   Not the way I could've, given the chance.    But you love them. Still, even now.                                                                 yes. I suppose I still do.

they twist and change but in the end the result stays the same.

[garden-weeds]

The problem is— I get so angry. I get so very angry, and hateful, and spiteful. I cut myself off and I cut others out. I hate and I hate and I hate — but I love more than I hate. I love people so much — I can never hate them. So I hate myself.

a venomous snake, with my own tail in my mouth

[garden-weeds]

There’s a wolf in your heart.               There’s a wolf in your head.                                        There’s a wolf with one hand gripping tightly to the collar of your shirt. and for once in your life you find it impossible to channel your fear into anger.           (is this how he feels is this how he feels is this how he feels is this how he feels)                You are just a teen and the fire that has been making you Go, Go, Go, for fifteen years is nothing but a flickering candle compared to this inferno in front of you.

[garden-weeds]

The world cracks and burns with every step that you take. Pompeii as a person, breathing and speaking. ash and fire and magma rolling with the speed to flatten buildings. Rage of an active volcano, rolling and rumbling with no warning to prepare for the ash and fire. A city of people immortalized within you, glimpses of their stories embedded in your memory, in your entire being. An eternal tragedy, to remember, to remember, to remember. You caused the smoke and and flame and the lava that killed the people. You are the cause, and you deserve the aftermath.

you were never one to be able to control your anger

[garden-weeds]

an incomplete list of mistakes: i. i let myself meet you. ii. i let myself sit on the shores of your beach and let the waves lap at my legs and told myself that your water was warm and your sand was soft and that your waves— iii. i believed that your waves were calm. That they would be calm for me.

and when they weren’t i didn’t leave. I didn’t go. I let them pull me under as the storm crackled above. and that was my biggest mistake of all.