#fermentingferns

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-lynnea fitzgerald (@/fermentingferns on instagram)

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1. the faster your heart flutters, the quicker the dust fills it

my teeth are open-rooted, so you can’t tell how much I gnaw (on the past) on how your hands on my throat felt like salvation

2. you are hydrogen and helium; hot enough to rip the colour from my eyes

& I am cold, crumbling rock; pock-marked and hiding my face from the world

your soul tastes like burning, and my mouth is full of holes from the embers

3. My cheeks flushed with hot, thick blood, and oh my god, I didn’t know-

I didn’t know it would feel like this, like I’m sinking into my own skin, about to implode and become nothing-

become nothing and take your hands with me across the expanse of a hundred empty skies-

a hundred empty skies casting shadows over cities full of radiant girls who hate themselves, they hate themselves-

they hate themselves, and I want to show you what you’ve done

4. I was jarred by the shock of it,

felt all of my ribs touch each other

I looked at you with blood in my mouth and

laughed so hard I felt

the acid

come up out of my stomach

every hair on my body

stood on end, and you put

my heart in your mouth and whispered,

“you can’t love this world if you don’t

love destruction”

5. the hands of the clock

pressed to the floor, and the tiles

wet

from the sink I let overflow

I ran out of the house and

screamed until the snow

freight-trained

down the piebald mountainside, and

swallowed everything I knew

I won’t cry when the snow fills my

lungs

and I won’t reach for you;

I am not just a small mouth and a

soft

heart, I will back my own revolution,

and my name will be

mine

to reinvent

6. I slide between the walls and melt like candle, in my mind I am running my sagacious hands along the spine of each season. I can feel them, like if colours had their own texture.

the weather turned inside out, and found the sky, the rain caught in my throat, and the summer died in my arms

march

1. rabbit anthem  2. you are light & i’m a wasteland 3. coming of age 4. roman candles 5. switzerland   6. false realities 

[pomegranatepithos]

Five on Friday - 16 March

Want to read some great poetry? Check out these brilliant pieces (listed in no particular order) by some fabulous writers. And be sure to read some of their other works as well!

1. Painted Words by @ambroseharte

2. Desire by @storiavitali

3. ya’aburnee by @fermentingferns

4. The Fugitive Pigments by @thejournalofbisonjack

5. summer romance isn’t all it’s cracked up to be by @hippopotasaurus

Have a wonderful weekend!

L.

[mythologe]

WHICH IS YOUR FAVORITE DEATH?

1. it strikes in my sleep (i don’t have time to say  goodbye) say goodbye to me when you find me

2. safety glass shatters and there’s cuts all over my face (no open casket) and my body is returned in pieces to  the sky to the ground i came from (god or whatever void comes after asks me wht i did with it) i lived i lived i lived i lived and life was satisfied with my 

everything

3. heaven is screaming & i can’t find my left wrist (it’s gone it’s gone it’s gone it’s gone it’s gone) please hold

me gently) there’s so much buzzingbuzzingbuzzing.

-poetry prompt // heaven is screaming & I can’t find my left wrist @fermentingferns

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Poetry comes from pain, this is something we all know. Don’t tell me there are lots of poems about beautiful things and love, because the only people who really turn those things into pure magic on paper are the ones who were aching before they found them. Poetry comes from being submerged, the shuddering gasp as you break the surface. Maybe you go under again, maybe you don’t. Who knows how long you’ll be lost before you can write again. Some people spend their whole lives down there, surfacing like whales. I’m sure Charles Bukowski was a whale.

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I was afraid to tell anyone I had painted my toenails. I was ashamed to have time to care for myself. Why can’t a mother write a poem/or paint a picture/or read a book, or get a shower? Why does guilt live in our chests like a second heart?