#this is straight up poetry

[inkskinned]

okay is she being actually immature or is it just a woman over 30 expressing a human experience you find to be immature.

like yeah. at certain ages... let shit go. im not defending the real immature shit. im not defending the karen you're picturing. i worked in retail i hate those people too. (once somebody got mad at me because she didn't like how our winter window decor was a snowman smoking a pipe. i wish i was joking).

but men at 57 will write books about how 17 year old girls are soooo sexy. they will invent worlds where women have to be naked for "armor reasons." they will write songs that treat women as objects. people rush to defend them. meanwhile a woman at 35 will be like "heartbreak is hard, actually" or "i feel betrayed by a friend" or "i am struggling with something emotionally." immediately people will say stuff like this woman is 35 by the way. by the way this woman is SO OLD to be experiencing this. BY THE WAY.

im 31, almost 32. the other day a poet was blasted online because at her "big age", she had written a poem about feeling unloved. top comment was "this woman is 29 by the way." this woman is too old to still be useful, by the way. she has to behave better . maybe if she was a good wife and mother she could stop existing loudly, and the story could continue on without her. this woman has served her purpose, by the way. she's so cringe, by the way. at 29 - so old! - she still hasn't figured out that her existence should be one of shame.

[zytes]

look alive, sunshine

[darkearthsuggestions]

Do you think of me?

Find my fingerprints and feel your touch in every whisper I have left behind.

Do you ever think of me?

Stir what I have stirred, walk where I have walked, and hear your heartbeat in the rhythm of my steps.

Do you think of me?

Come then- kiss me- take my breath- you will taste your name.

[applestorms]

the fact that he’s looking directly at himself…

horror at the sight of your own innocence. the first thing you re-learn is that you were always cursed to fall. the rapture, the upside-down ascension, the death of the human— overcoming, overwhelming. transcending mortal bounds, crossing the bridge to the other side, seeing what makes the shadows without ever leaving the cave. self-consciousness, and the übermensch. in order to attain true godhood, one must first fully relinquish the vestigial traces of their depleting humanity. animal origins grow into human, social acceptance as the “civilized” man— but what comes next? where to go, where to run, when you fly into the sun and mistake its light for your own?

do you think it hurts, to remember?

it always shocks me how quickly he recovers after this point, how far his denial goes, the repression of his remaining empathy. the impressive extent of his dedication— and, ultimately, all for the sake of self preservation, to continue seeing the purity, the wholesomeness reaffirmed. light yagami has the survival instinct of a prey animal overdosing epinephrine. he kills two people by accident, and then takes down half the world just to prove he was right.

who is he, at this moment? where does he go when KIRA takes his body back? it seems like he accepts possession so easily, so long as it is done by the correct god— his own god, his own self. a=a, tautological identification, a soul shared between two names until the face in the mirror stops looking like yourself.

i was searching, earlier this week, for a clear instance of when he grows up— that classic coming of age moment, Manhood finally achieved. there are a few potential options to consider: his coming of age ceremony, marked by his first suit, tears shed by a chthonic companion as he matches a face to the name of the man behind the cameras. or perhaps a bit later, as he builds up to taking over the title of L, a slow transition over yotsuba as he stops automatically bowing to his father's will and takes on his role as hidden director instead. or maybe, at the very beginning? watching the notebook fall, writing his first names, his earliest stumble into grace and heavenly sanctity...

none of these moments fit. in not one of these cases does light yagami grow up. he changes, sure, he shifts, he goes through the motions, sneaks out of old cycles and breaks in the new ones. but not once does he Grow, does he sit back and truly Reflect. he looks into his past and he grieves his younger self, the stain on his soul he must take for all the lesser beings onto which he bestows his glorious salvation. he calls his actions criminal, but a necessary evil for the sake of a world, to achieve the moral standard he was always taught to uphold. he graduates. he moves out. he leaves his family behind.

but not once does he grow up.

he grows older. he watches his sister's health decline, sits by his father's deathbed and listens to him regurgitate his own lies back at him. he crawls across the dirty floor of a warehouse, soaked in his own blood, begging for the impossible as his 40 seconds tick away. he spends six years reigning as a god, believing the same lies he told himself when he was seventeen, when he made his first mistake and didn't know how to accept it. he does not move on. he does not grow.

perhaps that's the true tragedy of this moment, that for every memory he regains of the past, he learns nothing of the future. such a static entity, in the end.

compare the framing here, between ch.1 and ch.53. he never stops looking at it the same way, sweating and nervous and terrified. he knew what this entailed, right from the beginning. tragedy is to be found only in the lies he allowed himself to believe in the interim. note the addition of headphones, in the previous spread— he won't even allow himself to hear his own screams.

pack it all away, buddy. you'll face the reality of your finite, mortal lifespan soon enough.

[nkogneatho]

i don't know who needs to hear this but writers, please don't stop writing cliché tropes. idc if you think it might be cheesy or too corny. idc if it's common and it's already written. i need to read yours. i need to see how you weave those threads of common tropes into a fabric of story from your perspective, from your talent. i will eat that shit up everything.

[hotvampireadjacent]

[chewablepebbles]

[candyunicornsateme]

Always secretly liked the idea of Kenny giving his crush some sort of anonymous secret love letter yanno. Like idk does that not have the most Kenny vibes????? It's quiet and mysterious. And they wouldn't even be able to guess, because I love to think his writing voice is so different.

[thegreatyin]

do u think lark would like the false yearner. like at a first impression without knowing all the murder. i think it would be funny if they met

it would be funny. i think they should be besties for absolutely no reason besides the sheer level of psychic damage it'd deal to not only caeru but also caeru

[radmannotmadman]

in the ikea

straight up assembling 'it'…and by 'it'…well... let's just say…my pëneatïs

[actual-changeling]

i could, y'know.

i could go 'home' and i could lie to my mother and she would lie to me, and we'd play our roles like we always have. we do not talk about our childhoods. we do not talk about him. we do not talk about anything that matters. she doesn't ask me questions about my life anyway, she doesn't care.

i could go and perform and then go back to my flat and nothing will have changed. i really could, if i had to i'd be able to do it flawlessly.

but i don't want to. i won't be like her. i won't just sit in silence, not anymore. she won't understand a single thing i would have to tell her, and in the off chance she does, she'd immediately start guilt tripping me and oh, i am your poor poor mother, you had a great childhood you were always happy.

i know her routines, i had to.

i don't want to because i am so, so tired of it all, and opening pandora's box would only make things worse, but at least something would CHANGE.

[rj-orion]

"Love" A poem by me :)

I love harder than the sun loves the stars

I love harder than the ocean loves the moon

I love harder than the desert loves monsoons

I love this hard to ensure I fit your expectations right up to par

If you love me like the birds love the sky

And need me like the earthworm needs dirt

If you love me like a sailor loves the sea

And need me like a king needs his queen

Then you'll get all my love and more I promise; that, you will see

Hold me like the universe holds it's galaxies

Hold me like the forests hold their animals

Protect me like a clam protects its pearl

Protect me like a bear would protect her cubs

Do these things and you will have earned all my love

I love harder than the sun loves the stars

Harder than the moon loves the sea

I'll protect and hold you close to me

Like the most important gemstone in my heart

Because when I love

And trust me, I love

That love becomes a form of art.

[lookninjas]

2440.

fourth of July and you turn around and it's time for new tags and the Bridge Walk and school starts again next week with the parking lot torn up and the road construction still going and I guess at least if I wasn't ready for the end of everything then neither was anyone else

[fleetinggabi]

A poem of mine about my shifting self through the years and the few who've stayed and seen me throughout <3

Memories I can't make out

In name forgotten, their warmth I've found

Hard to tell when you were there

Now I know, standing here

Missing you in memories

I can't help but feel so mean

When in time you've grown so fond

Of the me, that was born

I will try to focus more

Keeping you, memories new and old

[manicali]

The weekend isn't enough I've literally been passing out on the bus.

[tiredlinguist]

bicycle by patricia taxxon is doing something to me i feel like im drowning i feel like i’m dying i feel like gravity doesn’t apply anymore i feel like im screaming my throat raw i feel like im plunging my paws into the dirt. it’s night and the moon is so beautiful. im blinking in the wind and the wind is keeping me awake and the wind is keeping me alive my heart pounds with the rustle of leaves with the clicking of the rusted chain as it turns around the gears. i am mourning something yet simultaneously rejoicing in its revival. there is water in my ears but ive never been able to hear so clearly. i hear the moonlight’s reflection on the ocean when i raise my nose to the sky i can smell the salt. is it raining?