wormspeaker - Tumblr blog

[wormspeaker]

why cant I hold myself

in a way where

i feel my own warm embrace against me

[wormspeaker]

I have nothing to say at the moment

so I will sit here and wait

until i do

and life will go by.

[wormspeaker]

discipline

means making sure i spent my time in a way i do not regret

[wormspeaker]

there is a crease in my brow that bears tension through the nebula

keeping me alive out of sympathy

and it is a notion of knowing the mortician's assistant,

without having known them personally yet

and id rather not leave a lasting first impression

on their work table.

[wormspeaker]

If you expect something of me

i ask you express that in detail

or i will flounder and slice myself open trying to look for shards in the dark

Please, tell me what you want from me

so i can know what you think of me.

please, i can not smell the truth of things, I am drooling until its in my mouth

for i can not meet your expectations until youve introduced them.

And i must do the same, I must always do the same.

[wormspeaker]

i want to keep you like a specimen.

cook for you and provide you food that keeps you strong and alive

make sure you have an environment that is comfortable for you to live in

you will be free to come and go wherever and whenever you want

and i will call you mine as much as you feel it warmly.

but i cant want that because i dont want to take care of any more than myself. conistently

in the sense of, i want the freedom to spend each of my days alone and happy

i want a friend

[wormspeaker]

no i dont

[wormspeaker]

here i can act like im alone

i can say just how by myself i am

i

so dearly,

dont want to have been

anymore.

why is this how life is?

i see nothing to look forward to anymore

and the things that kept pulling me forward have given up their pull

i feel unnecessary, or rather too necessary,

this machine is only alive because I am.

because i keep it alive because if i dont, i die.

because my species has been enslaved by that machine.

money.

i think of how the world screams out for me shrilly to create.

to bleed out my juices and life onto planes.

to create, to give life back, to destroy, to combine something different.

i feel all my bonds falling off like an oversized coat;

loosely.

they matter to me and somewhere behind my heart in my shoulder i am huddled in a little mass screaming and crying and sobbing because they took away recess and i didnt understand i was never getting it back.

the only things that play are dogs.

us 'apes' arent allowed anymore.

i dont even want it to cause anything,

i just want death to remove me

to take me away from this place.

but it wont. i will still be bound to here,

to this soil that made me

to this water that made me

to this air that made me

to this light that made me

to this dark that made me

to this planet

to all of her

i cant escape it, even if i am jettisoned into space,

how i was made will never be taken away.

what i am will always be true,

it is inescapable in that binding.

i have exiled myself too far.

i am reverted, ready for a world that does not exist.

i fucked up. i didnt stay with the times i went backwards, so far backwards

i am from a time where there is enough food for me to find and air for me to breathe

and yet im here, now, begging

theres no nature for me to wander into

theres no tribe waiting for me across the way

what did they do to you, what are they doing to you

mother? why why? why are they hurting you like this? why has it gone on so long?

mother why are they killing you?

this planet, this world, our mother. why.

why is this the world. why am i here now.

why dont we each hold hands?

[wormspeaker]

I have created my bubble.

it is slaked with film so greasy that it feels like gas.

but it sticks like good slime.

You can try to pierce it but its already been popped once before

and since then decided not to be treated in that way again

so i just warp and get pushed away by the rebound as my form restutes.

boundless except by my own

my form, bubble

[wormspeaker]

• Rudboon of the Worm:

— Sliced fairly, one reaps two worms.

[wormspeaker]

Music, singing and song,

to ears that hear, this is a language of all.

Tones and melodies, meters and intensity, sings universally to us.

We know the sounds.

the same is true for imagery for eyes that see.

We know what things look like,

and seeing things makes them clear for us.

we have the capability to speak to anyone and anything we meet.

by creating things for their souls to see, and sounds for their hearts to hear

these words i type only can say so much

what if we all spoke with art

[wormspeaker]

Why do certain skins i have shed feel so comfortable still

why do i yearn to wear them warmly,

gripping the waxy paper against me

a hermit crab reluctant to grow

i sit here with a shred of my corpse, pretending im still alive in it

its dead skin now

ive shed it

[wormspeaker]

enjoying the brine?

[wormspeaker]

I can change things

[wormspeaker]

holding onto the memory of the things i have done, would bite your hands with frost for how cool it is

[wormspeaker]

Change, through me, speaks out.

Speaking through this lense, alone, feels like self.

The feeling is so warm, and soft inside my neck and cradling my skull, like down feathers in my blood.

I am thinking, AND speaking.

and i pause, to let the worms churn and sing to me here, where i am vernal.

and it feels so peaceful. Control is not the right term, for how i guide things and let them appear all at once within this vessel.

I am the ghost haunting the house, I am the Flesh, I am the Hands and Feet and Head and Eyes and Tongue and Nose and Ears and Face and Chest and worms. We is deemed improper, yet, Collaged, i am?

akin, to clay. Shaped.

I wish to live here, outside of this digital sandbox.

[wormspeaker]

thank you guan chan