#Escapril

[trickstersaint]

an aromantic person is someone who (fill in the blank here) // april 10 2024

[voidic3ntity]

I spend my days traversing the stars: lost within your eyes.

[poemsonmars]

i am tired of being

afraid of everything.

i step into the fog

with open arms,

and it amazes me

how much it feels like rain.

i think i could drown myself

in anything if i really tried.

-mars

[mkaugustpoetry]

How many nights have I dreamt

Of holding you in my arms?

Keeping you safe and loved,

Comforting you.

How many nights have I dreamt

Of seeing your smile?

Your eyes a cloudy mystery to me

But the curve of your mouth

Real and true.

I thought maybe I had you for the briefest of days.

I thought I was learning the shape of your eyes

And the weight of your hand in mine.

But I'll go back to dreaming.

I'll keep dreaming of you each night.

[wheatfieldspoet]

as isaac, on the walk home

please, won’t you look at me, father? i can’t erase the memory                             of the surrender in your eyes if i keep staring at your back.

you held my hand as we climbed the mountain. i felt your pulse through my palm,               your grip tight against the sweat. God has called us, you said with urgency, yet       you took       your time       as we ascended.

i can’t remember what i feared more:                      the blade,                      the flame,                      or the aftermath.

who would have made the bigger sacrifice if there was no ram in the thicket— you? me?

or mother?

is there no test of faith more agonizing than to forgive?

but even in my final breath, i would have. i love you even though i may never understand it, if only you would tell me. i don’t ask for much—

father!       please.                             soothe my shivering. i’m afraid                      the next time                      i see a knife                                    i might think                                                                it’s                                                                              love.

— Jade A.

escapril day 3: eye contact

@adventurerswritingguild day 3: hand / god / knife

[adventurerswritingguild]

🦋 Happy #NaPoWriMo Adventurers! 🦋 This year, we've put together a special prompt list for our community + any curious passersby. Prompts were made by me, Maria @shylovrs so feel free to tag the guild + moi! Use the #AdventurersWrite or #ShyPrompts to share your work!

And if you'd like to join a community of dedicated writers and creatives this April, the guild's doors are open! Check the link in bio or click here to gain access to our discord!

[wordedarchive]

the truth is: i care. i care too much and perhaps my life would be easier if i cared too little.

khush bakht via wordedarchive

[flugsvamp88]

how to exist

(29/4/24)

kiss me on the mouth love loud like a sailor show the world you care hold on no matter how far apart when you get a taste when you get to know me tell me my flavour show me myself in your light i don’t believe in god i have no trust in love but i believe you’re my saviour i know you will teach me how

c.m

♫

[grimfox]

eye contact

the seam caught in between

what you percieve and what you mean

a thing uncomfortable to some

the sum of intimacy, dreams

a window open to receive

or weapon glinting to deceive

the pleasant ring of subtle iris

vibrant, hide me from the seeing

i am private, help me please

i try despite what all it brings

i fight the fright of knowing

tightly holding my own sightless screams

[archenemyintellegence]

"Old recipe" (2/4/2024)

"The thing has been waiting to be created. Every thing exists for a purpose. It cannot wait to conquer or be conquered."

An artwork I did for Escapril event. I enjoy the rawness of the drawing but I was not confident enough to post it on Instagram. Still, I really love this piece. The experience of drawing it, is so inspiring.

[just-looking-for-stars]

a bit of advice:

order dessert before dinner whenever you can. get the really rich option, the oreo cheesecake or chocolate mouse. lick warm, melty whipped cream off the backside of your spoon, scoop the chocolate clean off the plate, sit back and sigh and lament that you might have not saved enough room for dinner, without an ounce of regret, and then go on to finish the bread and oil and your entire bowl of pasta too. look utterly confused anytime anyone brings up their new diet, or how they need to work out before dinner, or that they are just soooo bloated, or how they just need to lose that last 5 pounds. act as if it is the most absurd thing you have heard that someone would even consider cutting calories or passing on warm cookies fresh out of the oven or ignoring the pleasure of eating a whole bag of pink starbursts in one sitting. picture yourself at age three, often. think about a time before dance classes or diet culture or tiny runway models or tumblr of 2012 got it’s hands on you. remember the way your belly rolls looked extra cute in your purple butterfly swimsuit with watermelon juice covering your sticky salt water fingers, braids wildly unkempt from summertime play (and then remember that nothing has changed with age except that now you have a blue butterfly swimsuit instead of purple). and when you can’t show up for yourself to feed this adult body that has to face the world, feed yourself at three years old, giggly and chubby, sweet talking in hopes for a second popsicle. let them know that they can have three popsicles if they want, and that tonight, we will even order our dessert before dinner.

[trickstersaint]

it really is fine, but i'll take a lollipop anyway // april 25 2024

[voidic3ntity]

I'm so utterly & so completely obsessed with you, my lighthouse,

always searching, yet never finding, to seek is to remain hopeful:

beneath the fragments, the chalice of trust dwells much deeper,

& the loyalty I have for you is something so pathetically single;

am I good enough for you to stick by through the rainstorms?

[poemsonmars]

i don't have any dark secrets

but i do have a few light ones.

and i don't mean light

in that they're not heavy

because fuck they are,

but rather... well,

my secret is that i am terrified

to tell her that i love her

and how could that possibly

be anything but sunshine?

how could loving her,

in whatever horrible

form that may be in,

be anything other than

the single greatest thing

i've ever done with my life?

it doesn't matter if

she doesn't love me back

if i never get the courage

to tell her anyway.

i will keep my secrets

buried deep inside and

hope that their light

is enough to keep me warm.

i will keep loving her

and i will keep it to myself.

-mars

[mkaugustpoetry]

Going from sleep to wake

Just to live all my days

In that inbetween state.

Keeping my eyes open

Just to see your face.

Don't turn out the light.

I know it's late,

But I'm not ready yet

For that forced change of state.

[cowboy-heart]

'two romeos', alternatively named 'thank GOD for butch bottoms'

(ID in read more)

[ID: a lineated poem titled 'two romeos':

sanguine and ever holy, you drip off my tongue like fresh honey. a ray through the curtains perfectly catches your double chin, your unplucked brows, the hairs nestled on your lip, a smile so warm so strong, you, carved of marble sun my personal Apollo.

roll around with me, laughing in stupid ecstasy, butch in the streets, femme in the sheets, as if as if – you’re butch to the bone, just like me, I’ve tasted it that butch marrow.

on your back, on your knees, our bedroom full of mysteries of which they could never glean, they whisper they guess the scene; motorcycle-oil lathered on our bodies, combat boots kept on, arm wrestles, bruised clavicles, carabiners locking, headlocking, a fight for dominance, engines revving, a sadomasochist’s wet dream.

we let them hypothesize, of violence they often fantasize, all while we mutually baptize. but what they don’t get is you’re butch all hours: underneath me breathing caught and heavy in my ear, muscled hands gripping my hair, thick calves locked around my lower back’s rolls, a sight meant just for us – I’m blessed I’m blessed your gentleness, your strength, your vulnerability, my tender hand, my sweet touch, the trust you put in me.

the next day no-one could guess the sacraments performed; we are greaser-dressed, hair slicked back, owning the pavements, like something unable to be fucked with –

but oh, loverboy, did we.

end ID]