orangejuicegarage

[orangejuicegarage]

It winds me tight with red threads of thorn with carmine hands i bend my back to stitch it up myself my nails are black they sting with needle slips from dry fingertips i just wanted to say goodbye

#poetry

[orangejuicegarage]

Bring the loneliness to me I will sleep with it under my pillow tonight and convince myself that it was taken away in the morning

#poetry

[orangejuicegarage]

As the world hugs me slow it catches it’s calloused yarn on the thorny cocoon I forged myself in. It peels it back to expose translucent wings that smell of microwaved rice and hold like amber.

My form is temporary, empty by design, it serves to be seen but not held.

What unsanctimonious form would I take if I did not self-serve to meld to involuntary mirrors out of fear of my own nature?

Sacrifice expectations poolside. The aqua is healing, its home; it's simply the stagecoach to finality.

I find myself faceless in the face of loneliness, there are no mirrors left for me in a tarnishing castle.

May I dare to evolve my amber to silver. May I look back over my shoulder and know who I am becoming.

--

silver // in adulthood I find that friendship comes every few months or so

#writing #poetry #qtpoc writer #poem

[orangejuicegarage]

i burned down the house of cards you built for me with matches made of rage and fire forged in devastation your eyes were the salt water i drowned myself in i don’t think i coughed all of it up in my resuscitation it left mineral deposits in my bloodstream my tears tasted foreign when i refused to let them soak my shirt in the middle of crosswalks it reminded me of open endings

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open endings // please tell me I'm not the only one that makes up fake scenarios with my crush

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[orangejuicegarage]

It's nothing but salt water through my fingers; I want to remember it’s feeling before it dries. It's the grey blue of his eyes under the flourescent lights: fleeting. It's nothing more than what I made up in my mind with the kindling of my decrepit, frayed wanting. I built you up into a forest fire that I dreamt of walking into with broken cologne bottles in my pockets; I’ll wake up with sea glass under my skin and your scent on my mind. I washed my dying hair for you, I watched bicycle thieves for you, I didn't like it that much at all. Release me from this reflecting pool. I never really knew him anyway.

--

salt water through my fingers // about some guy I don’t know

#writing #poetry #queer poet

[orangejuicegarage]

Loose me in the woods; the tall grasses follow my step and wrap themselves around my ankles grips looser than the gravity of the tide. I hear their requests in the back of my mind my broken eyes fixate upon a glimmer at the end of the void with each weighted step it’s illusion appears to grow closer then farther then closer again teasing me with it’s true form I don’t see the tall grasses inch farther up my limits soon my eyelashes get caught on their fibrous overgrowth until I’m made to see that the foliage towers over me whilst the glimmer shines the same as it had when I was in control.

--

the grass

#writing #poetry #poem

[orangejuicegarage]

I am something to behold between rice paper sheets and crooked teeth honeyed dew gleams in the eyes of those that are unafraid to seek the unforgiving light it warms you underneath your ribcage it pulls your heart to the forefront with burning hands they introduce embers into your wild flowers the burn is the comfort of microwaved second day soup it always tastes better after a night alone in a bed that holds you as a lover does it knows you in the middle of the everlong night

--

second day soup

#writing #poetry #qtpoc writer #poet

[orangejuicegarage]

Effervescence is a virtue in this linoleum house It glimmers me pearlescent with fleeting hands I’m senseless to my own wings Dormant vestiges hang by a thread between my shoulder blades The rapture will make glass beasts of us all

--

virtue

#writing #poetry #queer writer #queer poet

[orangejuicegarage]

Everyone dies on their own at night in cold blue sheets crisp with wanting. She brushes her hair with a silver comb it burns starlight into her split ends she drinks from the well of sorrow with her bare hands she dips her fingers into the bottomless pool and wishes to be pulled in. Bring broken butterfly wings to the picnic. It'll make the trespassers sick to their stomachs they never felt the glass pieces of their own minds rattle in their slick skulls the same way they never felt the shards under their nail beds when they scratch they scratch the fear away. She saw herself in the past she passed in the dead of night under a starless sky she became a blue gas giant that I see from my bedroom window I wish upon her a better miracle. My home will belong to the termites one day. It’ll exist in the bellies of insects in the soil that their exoskeletons will make up it’ll smell of my father’s cooking it’ll feel rich with my mother’s voice I’ll rub it on my sun wrinkled skin in hopes that I’ll have memories in the end. The earth makes fertilizer of us all.

--

fertilizer

#writing #poetry #queer writer #qtpoc writer

[orangejuicegarage]

i draw for the dreamer that died inside the concrete blanket fort formed from the caves of my own heart that vessel gets smaller with age as i over grow my own bedrock i lived in a mylar balloon until i was seventeen it smelled of burnt hair and victoria’s secret lotion i stuck the carcass on my bedroom wall it watches me from the shadows they’ll find my prototype mangled and incorrect with time when the termites complete their feast resurrect me from the stardust of my own life plant a tree where i have been maybe i’ll visit in the next life

--

prototype // fixing up an old poem i found

#writing #poetry #qtpoc writer

[orangejuicegarage]

I want to be new

I want to be new like i’m reaching my tiny crescent moon nails out of my mother’s womb for the first time small eyed blood curdled screaming for life i want to be screaming for life i want to be reaching for life instead of resenting it for the way it burns too long like smoldering coals simmering incessantly it burns but refuses to draw blood oh how it smells like rusted sulfur in a sweltering alleyway it kicks you in the teeth for a second before fading away the valley collapses in as i run for the other side reaching once again for the last time the pearl light is sweet on my palms like iridescent honey i wipe it on the back of my black jeans it glimmers sheen remembering when the sun hits it right i take it home with me to the home that i’ve been told is not mine in cracked castles i woefully keep that ounce of magic close to the skin i find it again at the bottom of my den it reminds me i wanted to be new once upon a time

--

i want to be new // maybe i will be here in the future

#writing #poetry #qtpoc writer

[orangejuicegarage]

I'll carve my own hole in the sky with my bare hands if i have to the blue will crack for me as i will it to it’ll be shaped like me and know my mind before i can make it it’s master will flood my senses with it’s illusionary cerulean it’ll show me what i want to see it’ll show me infinity only to laugh at me when i tap on the fishbowl with starlit fingertips blood dry in my cuticles the disappointment will soak my marrow i’ll carry it with me as i fall back down to earth wings burned by our own breathing we gaze at the limitless unknowing of its ancient curses they watched the heavens complete as it was meant to be seen as it formed before their pale eyes they believed it to be theirs at the center of the universe

hold the milky way galaxy in your pocket notice how many more there are just like it

--

heavens complete // i was watching djo’s lollapalooza performance when i wrote this

#writing #poetry #qtpoc writer

[orangejuicegarage]

I am; Standing in my kitchen eating Schatt’s cheese bread Hip against warm tile As Willem Verbeek takes pictures of places I want to be in

I am; Living on dead time As my parents re watch the same movie for the twentieth time in the room next door The nail polish cracks almost immediately these days My hair curls at the base instead of the root A medium lemonade at wienerschnitzel is $3.69

I am; Pulling the strands apart until they’re as thin as a thread I stitch my buttons back on lopsided but it’s fine that way It’s better that way When things are put back together the wrong way Kintsugi cracks map the history of tearshed until their inevitable valleys open their eyes

Jump over the gorge with your taffy pulled legs Follow the current with your fingertips and become the sky

--

something simple for a Thursday night

#writing #poetry #qtpoc writer

[orangejuicegarage]

under stars which you cannot see due to humans mistaking their thumbs for signs of divinity, the real goddess, adorned with light years of time, and eyes made of stardust: she gazes back at you awaiting the traveler that sees past the veneer of assumption

--

veneer of assumption

#writing #qtpoc #poetry #poem

[orangejuicegarage]

kill me leave me to ride a big yellow taxi to nowhere the green screen is everlasting bring the chapter to a close already i’ve been reading this book for years too long like a glass noodle that measures the circumference of the universe i wonder who holds this world in their palm how big it is on their shelf i want to be blue like rigel a smoldering ocean atop a sceptre i’ll burn you up to a gas and set you free

--

rigel

#writing #poetry #qtpoc writer

[orangejuicegarage]

Bring me back alive from the depths of solitude where winds rage navy between tumbleweed cages it whistles my attention elsewhere to the somewhere that shadows conquer they absorb you like gaseous tar like the invisible tethers between planets they’ll untangle when the planets align and reveal their full grandiose forms their final transformation is only an illusion impossible to be witnessed with our unevolved eyes dip your fingertips into the fabric ripple the cosmos and pull a heart out that you know is your own

--

depths of solitude // part of the first painting i’ve done in years

#writing #poetry #qtpoc writer #art

[orangejuicegarage]

i need my fire back

i need it blue hot branding my tongue volcanic black with it’s acidic ash like the backdrop of the cosmos avoidant and all encompassing it pulls my hands in from where my fingertips were lingering at their doorway. the closet is made of oak. it’s roots have kept their unyielding grip for generations they’ve taken to the earth’s core like a parasite they’ll squeeze it dry until it’s nothing more than a pebble of space dust put that stone in your corduroy pocket it’ll make a sound when you wash your jeans you’ll forget where you picked it up and throw it out of the car window

i need my thoughts back

i need them 100 count crayola crayon box with the sharpener in the front 100% opacity on rainbow construction paper that gives you a paper cut when you get too excited we used to fight over the blue green it was always the first to go flat skinned bare by incomplete hands by perfect hands we thought we were big then. i don’t remember anything. i remember graham crackers in apple juice, rainbow twizzlers, nutella spoons, i sang rockstar by smash mouth for my first extravaganza i smiled on that stage before i knew what anxiety was with our barbie backpacks and plastic shoes we glittered in the 5pm glow like our gel pen tattoos we thought we were invincible

i need myself back

who ever that bitch is with their wack ass dreams and seeing eyes i see glimpses of them in my sleep in dirty boba shop windows in rain puddles somehow always a mirror away. i want to meet them on my way to the andromeda galaxy. my spaceship is neon green and shaped like a flying fish i eat french fries under the light of ghosts an astronaut approaches we’ll touch tiny twin hands across lightyears like i wish my soul would touch my body. one day it will it’ll snap into palace in a lightning storm trace my lichtenberg scars with a comet tail leave ice blue trails on my skin so i can blend in with the stars in the sky and someone can include me in a constellation as if i’m meant to be here

--

i need my fire back // i was watching this xavier dolan video when i wrote this

#writing #poetry #qtpoc writer #art