text-onlynopromises

[text-onlynopromises]

(323)

i can hear the ruminations in my head ticking over ever so slowly i can feel the words on the walls slicing at me with every heartbeat (who am i writing for but to shout out into the empty void? the ones where i do are more coherent)

(oh, wait, sweet girl i can write for you) and a few years ago i picked up a sword to fight them but whatever i cut only cuts me later this fight feels like it lasts forever and it makes everything so heavy and so hard why not lay me down to sleep forever?

well, i have the sweet girl and it is a cause to live she thinks that she hurts me but she anchors me she gives me a reason to stay here and to live for her, i will stay.

and even if she goes away, i will stay. i promised her i would stay.

fuck me, even breathing is hard.

[text-onlynopromises]

(322)

is it really poetry or a way to vent? is it really writing if i don’t improve? i need to push myself and challenge myself and make words out of these feelings that run through

this afternoon with the sweet girl,  i  managed to move up from bleak despair to that saudade melancholy which is not the usual way that things go - usuallyl it’s sausade to despair so that is something new and something amazing she helps me 

but i would like to do it on my own, without needing her aid. i would like for this cold exhaustion to leave my bones, i would like for this fragile ego to be a little stronger yes, kill it, but also have the assurance standing there before to not flinch from a judging gaze - or is it a judging gaze? i don’t know -  home should be safe, but it is not.

[text-onlynopromises]

(321)

this afternoon i stood there with the elements of my plans shattered and i wondered why my everything took a sudden downturn it is my flatmates cooking for each other and not me the anger seeping into my fearful bones it is the way i hoped for this to be refuge and home and it is for everyone else but me

suddenly an onslaught of the enemy’s soldiers i don’t know who the enemy is but me sinking me down under its weight. i have succor, i have resources, so i fight it still bears me slowly to sleep the heaviness of an empty home but the empty home of people who once showed their care but do no longer

but you know, it’s right i will fight and i will fight i will fight to be on board and not to let the choking presence of the empty night drown me

[text-onlynopromises]

(320)

the sun is budding over the meadows in this sunrise you are sitting there washed with the blue hour it is in your eyes and all the new petals are blossoming with colours more than the white and grey of winter. my hands tremble; spring is here.

the golden hour; shadows stretch on, casting long angled shadows they make everything beautiful so you are doubly beautiful or is beauty multiplied?  then you are infinitely as beautiful as any flower i could give you.

[text-onlynopromises]

(319)

let the night come, let it fall to pieces unleash the curtain of the falling stars spreading it across the milky way. i tire myself out until the only things that matter and don’t matter are the screaming in my ears, the song and sound of silence sit alone on the porch smoking a lone cigarette i want to be alone. i don’t want to be alone.

i wanna smoke and drink wine with my favorite people and get up the energy to face the day ahead  and maybe climb out of bed for once without straining against the paralysis. (that’s a lie. i can wake up just fine because there’s something for me to check, someone saying hello online. and i need to post, somewhere with feedback.) apart from that everything is heavy and hard and not in the fun way i just lie down and can’t get up again.

just give up on me, i’ll climb back up alone.  ah, fuck, this is just tracing circles on the patterns around and around.

fuck it

let the night come, let it fall into pieces unleash the sifting curtained dusk spreading across the light of the milky way i follow it until i’m at large.

[text-onlynopromises]

(318)

which is a lie, of course, because of course i am wanted of course i have so many things

I have “family, and assets, and (supposedly) a gentle soul” thanks, dude, what I need right now is understanding and time not your fucking proselytizing. so FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON. 

of course i want to grow, of course i want to be stronger of course i want to stand up and say “here i am” i can give you the silence that you prefer i don’t know

maybe i can’t

maybe i have too many words in my brain and i just want to get them out screaming down onto the paper fuck i’m on the downswing

fuck you and the horse you rode in on blank-faced, break down into sobbing.

maybe i’ll just hug my kid self, and just cry with them

i can hear you laughing with the other guys and the everything is coming from outside a locked box i want to be alone and i don’t want to be alone at least i don’t want to die not yet.

[text-onlynopromises]

(317)

so at last let me scream out loudly into the void of tumblr because no one will read this  (thank god for that) i’m just gonna vomit this onto the screen, no  visible complexity of the feelings behind it the people i took to for comfort and inspiration are gone and here i am left in the burning debris

i Hurt, man, and you tell me to fight how can i fight when i’m not allowed to be angry? fuck you, man, fuck you and the horse you rode in on i’m angry because it’s the only ways to keep the fires going when they die out i do too and i’m just the ashes left in the bottom of the pit and about as wanted 

[text-onlynopromises]

(316)

each thought, let me separate them, let the text post breaks be the end post of goal posts  so i can finish each thought then start another people always say, “reach out to me”

and honestly there are some people who do, (and thank god for them) and other people say, “reach out to me” “but only when i want to hear it” “i’m too busy” “i’m too stressed” “don’t come near me” “fuck you” and i drop my head and the words puke out of me, dark oil streaks  that choke me inside and out and i slowly am just falling to pieces fuck poetic thought fuck poetic writing i’m on the downswing

i’m not even fucking bothering with content i want to be angry right now i want to rage and build a world and break it down pillage its cities and burn its streets but i am Not Allowed To Be Angry but I Am Not Allowed To Be Sad

because anger and sadness are for little kids, and, stupid idot, Learn How To Grow Up

Fuck you, man, and fuck the high horse you rode in on.

[text-onlynopromises]

(315)

i have a state which i get into which is like the fleeting pass of a flow state only i am heightened with emotion because it is my creative state my avatar state my tangential state and sometimes i do the best creative output in those moments then

i don’t care, i don’t know, why do i care do my shit and forget about the fucking world lie abed and fall to sleep and don’t care don’t care don’t care

let the sadness all burn away

let my words be spoken and my songs be sung and my poetry be recited and my texts be written out letter by letter

i can’t

i can’t do this

i can’t reach out i

no one wants to see me weak

but i can’t be strong right now

[text-onlynopromises]

(314) fuck titles

who cares about quality? only the reader, but ultimately  i forgot that

this is for me, this is for me to engage myself until the sunset fires’ last gutter falls itself into pieces and burns out past midnight this is for me, to stop my tears from falling because (nobody wants to see you cry) stupid self! stupid self, what’s the point? accelerate the descent make a fall. who cares if it’s controlled? who cares if you are at your lowest point? who cares?

...people do, and I have to remind myself that in the space between two sunsets, but i’m screaming and i’m crying and all of these are done blank-faced with only the speed of my fingers on the keyboard end rant end fast rant end thoughts end all thoughts just fall away i want to scream and keyboard-smash but nobody wants to hear that nobody wants to hear that nobody wants  to hear that nobody wants to hear that

[text-onlynopromises]

(313) until i burn myself out

i am going to write right now until i burn myself out because i have to do something creative and something productive (faux) and something to get all of the words out of me because the words that are on my tongues  i am not allowed to say it because the words that are in my mind i have to keep it shut because i alternately care and don’t care about whether or not everyone else matters because i keep on saying stuff that i don’t immediately mean or i don’t think about the consequences or the list goes on

i don’t care (but i care) i won’t write (but i will) let me leave these words by the roadside until I stop thinking thinky thoughts.

[text-onlynopromises]

(300-and-something) like an egg

i carry my hurts within myself like an egg like an egg of something new burning itself out through my fingertips i can’t see what is brand new.

they remembered me when i was stronger so fighting through the pain now i am weak there is no succor here.

sometimes i just want to be wrapped up in a big blanket and say goodbye to the world goodbye until tomorrow, goodbye until i am alone again away from expectations.

but i also want to be seen i also want to be heard a downy chick coming out from the egg killed by a passing wolf.

i carry my hurts within me like an egg tabula rasa.

[text-onlynopromises]

(300-and-something) constellation of sunsets

oh, it feels like the end of a book when you close the covers and think of how the endings all wrapped in a  tight little bow,  i’m sure that you know that’s it’s true

and i’m sitting on the back porch watching the afternoon light dance through the leaves  before the coming of the night and i feel like i’m lit up in a constellation of sunsets mm, waiting for you waiting for you

and there’s stars inside my bones and they feel like i’m coming home at the onrush of the night and darkness and light on the leaves of a closing book  in every chapter there’s a sunset  but it doesn’t matter

i

i’m lit up with a constellation of sunsets

[text-onlynopromises]

been busy. back now.

alright, fair enough, understand why you jumped straight to nazis. do apologize for that.

ok, so let’s keep it simple according to the definition you gave. This is my view:

exclusionists = people who pick on a minority, i.e. people looking for validation that they’re welcome, a safe space with safe people, within the LGBT alliance. So basically a minority of a minority. Therefore people who pick on a minority of a minority while being a minority themselves.

spreading propaganda = literally telling people that they’re not welcome, making fun of them, making them feel hurt, spreading the manifesto that’s “you are only welcome inside the alliance if you are X, because what you are doesn’t exist or belong here.”

literally oppress = denying them a safe space. reaching out to unaffiliated people just to tell them that who they are and what they believe is so bad they need to die. hounding them over and over. forcing them toward suicide. isn’t that oppression? does it need to progress to genuine, physical, violence?  

change my mind.   

Capitalism needs Imperialism.

War makes money for lenders. The lenders create nothing. Their profits come from stoking conflicts.

[text-onlynopromises]

flowers fall and the ocean fades there is no medicine for regret.

[text-onlynopromises]

at the end she whispers in flowers; fulfilled, to the brim with chasing, seeking light; the edges vapor crystalline 

harmoniously she whispers fulfillment, for recompense.

[text-onlynopromises]

(310) true colors

who are these people?  I tried to know them. among the warm and rolling hills.

our conversations grew long and unwound in the unwary glow of tired faces and well-cared-for places. still, among the same usual patterns their true colours flash through every now and then, polished and unpolished.

we will meet up again, we brothers, who walked the same roads through different lives.