#poetry&prose

[trashfireinc]

to love life, to cherish it!

to have it, and to hold it!

even when you have no stomach for it,

even as your intestines twist and fold

you must stretch your arms high into the air

remember what you stayed alive for

because wherever you look, wherever you turn

you are already there!

[proserpinarising]

[disinhibitionstation]

my suicide note doesn’t exist, but it used to.

it used to be a work in progress,

i used to title them; numbers 1, 2, 3, and 36

i can’t remember what number the last one was,

but i keep on hoping every time i write

that it will be the last; the last time i hurt

so much so, that i overflow with words

because i swear to god

the only time my poetry is worthy

is when i’m gasping for someone’s love

her love, his love, their love, my love

i’ve never been good at self love

the closest i got to self love this month

was letting myself eat nine-hundred calories

and every other day i hated myself for going over five hundred

god, i am afraid of this body

i am afraid of the demons that have made a home in it

god, i am not worthy of this body

i have only blessed it with cuts and scratches

god, i have never broken one bone in this body

but i have broken its heart enough times

that i am not even sure it will qualify for a transplant.

god, i don’t know if you’re even there

but i would really appreciate it if you would put me out of my misery,

i am so sick of trying to find a place for myself in this body

i am sick of throwing stones at this body

and waiting for it to crumble,

waiting for it to quiet it’s traitorous roaring

god, i don’t know if you’re listening,

but i hope you transfer my soul’s energy to something better

when my body caves in.

[fragiletext]

on the roof by 10, tripping by midnight

finally found a way to let the thoughts in without them destroying me

wondering how you learned to disarm my anger, or if you really are my greatest weakness thus far

cause’ usually i’m the mines under the soles of everyone’s feet, usually they tiptoe

i spend months burying these blips of anger, and you say its kinda funny how you started with me and ended up with him

i don’t think it’s funny at all

but i laugh anyways, i smile anyways, i listen anyways

because my love for you both is empowering and painful at the same time

like falling off of my longboard in freshman year

both empowering and painful to be the one who believes in true love and soulmates

both empowering and painful to watch the girl i love fall in love with my best friend for 6 months

both empowering and painful to keep my cool, hold my tongue, blink away tears

it’s kinda funny watching myself try to be patient, wait for the day that pain fades, and the love shines fully through

and knowing that it’ll probably never come

[hindinatumangkad]

Write for Yourself.

You want to write for the world but you can't figure out what the world wants.

If you write for a trend, it'll be over before you can get a word out if you write for fame and fortune, your work will lack authenticity.

So remember, writing is journey inward, not out.

Write for the simple joy of knowing your own thought.

Write for yourself.

That is what the world wants.

Lang Leav

[pafeee]

Expecting

Never expect the unexpected , Thy shall fall beneath all

[mysoulfuel]

LUNA-tic

She started out whispering softly in my ear 

But now she's howling, 

Trembling with maniacal bliss 

Unrestrained insanity 

Eliciting humanity 

Those afflicted with pain look on with disdain 

Unaware they have no choice 

But to reverberate with her rejoice 

For she's the greater force 

Cackling and bewitched In this hysterical fit 

Of unabashed celebration 

Her dance of excitation 

Rouses the living 

Shatters conditioning 

The tides she shifts 

Evoking catharsis

[motherdaughtergodarker]

Thoughts of the Beast

People looking people staring people scowling people glaring judging hating. i can’t breath i can’t breath help me HELP ME get me out get me out of here i can’t take it they keep staring they won’t stop help me i’m begging you. but you just sit there watch me squirm watch me panic watch me deteriorate you do nothing HELP ME. near tears i beg you you ignore me push me aside do what you always do i mean nothing you don’t care. HELP ME HELP ME i can’t breath breaths come short room spins vision black hands sweat body trembles falling FAILING i need out i can’t take anymore the people keep staring “a wild beast” they say. i need to leave i need to leave now no exist a cage a cage i can’t seem to escape breath breath keep breathing don’t stop don’t look at their eyes hateful they hate me. a door there’s a door go GO NOW don’t stop get up walk quickly the door THE DOOR run must make it must get out don’t look around don’t look back keep going open it OPEN THE DOOR. just go they won’t come they don’t care keep walking move forward must get away. where do i go what do i do how do i leave? he followed why go away you never helped me you can’t help me USELESS i’m sorry i didn’t mean it please don’t leave I’M SORRY i’m sorry i din’t mean it you’re not useless. i can’t go after him let him go let him go leave leave now don’t look back don’t look back can’t leave don’t know how no way how help me get me out get me out breath in out in out get me out can’t leave no way how i’m stuck. breath breath breath... i’m not okay.

[disinhibitionstation]

you’re a liar, a fake

not so “good” or “normal”

no, i know what you do when no one is home at 3am panting in the loft, several sighs in succession

all followed by several slices and another session you’re fucked up beyond belief, you know that right?

no one could ever love this soiled body, shameful hands and destructive tendencies at their worst

i find it difficult to even let them try

[fragiletext]

“i missed you”

like my first hit of DMT, like blaring music and skating to school

blood straining against paper-thin veins, heart beating stronger than ever

leaning back and sighing with the weight of it, singing the lyrics softly and praying you hear it

and this is how i love you!

i’m still a romantic, just a little more realistic now, and i can’t help loving you this much when you’re so... you

like when you draw circles on my knee, and when you push me up against the wall

like when you make us poke, and when you put your head on the couch so i can run my fingers through it

“i missed you too baby.”

[katie-dear]

Contrast

The contrast is this:

Imagine the first inhalation of the first human lungs. Purer than a newborn’s first fluid-filled gasp. When the imago Dei stood for the first time, and let the breath of God that gave him life escape his nostrils, how clean that breath must have been. The most fulfilling oxygen ever breathed, as God Himself enveloped each air sac. The wind that brushed his new-formed skin nothing short of invigorating. 

Imagine (or perhaps you don’t have to) stacks of chemicals and pollutants. Carcinogens and free radicals, masquerading as cumulus. We breathe in smoke for business and for pleasure to cough out cancer from our throats. Swallow back filth and choke out a stroke. Toiling endlessly at the expense of our world and our bodies in the hopes of advancing our world and our bodies. We wage wars spreading radiation for miles. Atomic bombs. Hiroshima babies peeling precious flesh straight from their bones. Industrious things we are. Industrious and insolent. “Preservation” our excuse. But pride and vanity the driving force. We play our own gods and then say there’s no such thing. Unholy ghosts fallen of smoke and mirrors. 

The contrast is this: 

Imagine “naked and unashamed”. What it must have been like for every inch of skin to feel the sun. The undefiled glances that passed between the world’s first two lovers, never having known the heat of a blush. No embarrassed downcast stare, no arms crossing over to hide the beauty of creation. No shame in God’s likeness. 

Imagine (but I know you don’t have to) a world where a young girl’s worth is measured with her waist and boys are told their manliness only extends as far as their “manhood” down a ruler, and oh, God-forbid you don’t put that six-inch ruler to shame. God-forbid you, girl, wrap more than 25 inches of measuring tape around your middle, and if the softness of your chest meant to nourish your babies doesn’t rival that of a porn star’s, cut open your chest and implant foreign objects “worthy” of the leering of every boy in school, of every man on the street. Add something else to the list of fake and unsubstantial objects of human lust. Yet another alteration of reality that could never satisfy for long. Our men quit being men because the world whispers they’ll never be “man” enough to earn respect or win a heart. Our women quit being women because we whisper they’ll never be lovely enough to love; never enough and always too much. Never enough and always too much. Be more. More than what you were created to be and more than humanly possible. So you will be worthy of love and respect. How do we survive this?

The contrast is this:

Imagine the astonishment. When humans were shiny and new and simply captivated by one another. How full of wonder their eyes, how timid and gentle their touch. When there was respect and humble appreciation for the human soul and body. The beauty of each color in creation must have pieced their heart with such adoration for their Creator. The uninhibited freedom felt together, climbing green hills and splashing through crystal water. Unaware that they could ever need protection. The elements were on their side. And God was in their midst. Pure and unadulterated love for all creation. 

Now imagine bruises. Black eyes. And self-inflicted wounds. Teary-eyed teenagers with razor blades and guns. The thought of tearing at your own skin as if you could pour all the bad in your head, all the bad in the world, out in your blood. Imagine a world where daddies don’t protect their daughters and tell their sons they’re worthless souls. Hold them by their necks against a wall. Insecure women who struggle to control their fates and their families and leave them breathless and mute, without an opinion, trailing behind. Precious girls whose priceless innocence is stolen, no price to be paid by it’s thief that could ever be enough to piece a fragile heart back together. A world where little boys grow up believing they’re “cooler” if their dad could beat up another dad, crush his ego, or pass him up by two, three rungs on the corporate ladder. Where girls search for the answers to “Am I beautiful? Do you value me?” and are met with manipulation and abuse, and the answer their soul is hearing is “No. No one could ever die for you.” And the boys too hear “No. No one could ever die for you. And you do not measure up.” We dropped that breathless sense of wonder for creation and broke it with the Fall. 

But baby girls and baby boys, with your tiny hands and feet.. Even as you grow your arms will never stretch wide enough to cover all the hurt in the world, and your fists will never be large enough to beat out all the sadness. But there is One whose bloody outstretched arms will one day bring kingdoms to their knees. He gave His life to give life back to you. "No one could die for you." But Someone already has. We were created among perfection, but we sold it for a lie. Now born into brokenness, but it was defeated with the cry

"It is finished." 

And there is a God who loves us despite ourselves.

This.

This is contrast.

[trashfireinc]

i’m thinking about you, i guess. and me, and juniper— the flower and the cat. i should draw her on a bed of them. what do you think?

she keeps trying to get into the greenies. and i just pick her up and put her on my lap over and over again. she makes me giggle… will she ever learn? will i ever learn?

yeah. but learning not to stick your paw into the treat jar is a lot different than tearing your eyes from it. that flash of green, tantalizing.

it doesn’t mean to. like most things, places, people don’t. just existing, just atoms bumping around in the dark.

i don’t mean to be vague. i guess i’m afraid. terrified, actually. of the change that comes with being specific, direct, upfront. what would change— grow, break, transform— about us.

i guess that’s why it took me two hours to write this. typing and deleting and rearranging until these paragraphs spell something other than coward, other than selfish, other than greedy— hungry.

but maybe hungry is what i’m trying to say. it’s selfish and cowardly and greedy, sure. but hunger is a component of love. of tenacity, of passion, of life. i’ve got a taste for it now.

the grass, the gnats, the sun in my eyes making me glance away and over at you. what i’m trying to say is i know you want to eat the world and that’s why i love you.

you always ask the most terrifying questions without knowing it. i’ve been thinking about us. eating the world together. bite for bite. and writing it all down of course.

word for word.

[trashfireinc]

oh, i loved you.

stubborn streak and all,

fingers running through colored hair

that stained porcelain was a gift,

less so when pillowcases follow suit, when

We lie down. (FOR)

your eyes reflect

and in them i see me,

a glass pawn, but even deeper

a horse galloping around the queen.

I don’t really know what it all means until

We lie down. (FOR THE)

I look again, a mere pawn again,

the horse and the queen-- i swear

she was looking right through me.

in front of her on that board

a little white line, a dollar bill,

they’re naked; it’s verbatim baby ‘cause

We lie down. (FOR THE LAST)

your eyes reflect pale blue,

in the tub, pink swirls ‘round legs, and the drain,

the drain can’t talk (can’t talk!)

not to me, at least.

maybe with a swig of cleaner

or a bad temper

or a blurred line every damn time

We lie down. (FOR THE LAST TIME)

i look. I see your back.

You have freckles here.

(I think we started out lovely.)

I hope I never see them again.

(Don’t you think?)

[trashfireinc]

i carry this starlight

deep in my chest,

where no one can see it

i smile and stare

my heart beat’s way up there

where the twinkling emerged

i carry this fluttering

deep in my stomach

where no one can feel it

i twitch and crack knuckles

my heart is begging not to be swallowed

not to turn butterflies into cramps

i carry these peeking eyes

in a skull not my own

where even i cannot control

the thoughts i think and yearn and dream of,

fitfully— my heart bumps louder and stronger

please let it try.

let the heart push these irrational thoughts to the brain.

let me manifest,

like doubles and thirty-one,

like three of a kind

let me enjoy this game.

for this, i will lose laughing.

for loss is a gain now,

and i am happy to see that smirk.

[trashfireinc]

a moth to the flame

throw yourself into the edges of its glory

only the precipice, only toes skirting the edge

ali, ali, come down; don’t you dare sway

but the light shines so much hotter here

the air chokes so familiarly

ripe with sweet and sour haze

i am something to be feared here

revered, here— who else would come this close?

ali and achilles, achilles and ali

i blend into you and you blend into me

whispering thoughts create paths like fireflies

do not know where, how, when to stop

the border is not something we can see

heels bare against the rocks

arches touching cool air; tops burning gorgeously

i do not want to fall

but hands shake at the thought

the flitting moment of doubt

it, not me begs to touch

perhaps akin to fireflies, moths— i wish i had wings too

not for flying; other cannot resist that blistering star

it waterboards itself, ice cold water to repent

so alike we are; shooting stars pass us and we think

if only— to be more holy

if only— to be less fragmented

i cannot fly and i am scared to try

if membrane jutted from my back in any grand fashion,

i could never resist tearing myself to shreds on the cliff face

look to the stars, other

one day we will get there; crushing darkness

perhaps to break its ink with our own blaze

or be suffocated by its breathless air