#nightmare.poetry

[elytrafemme]

excerpt of a poem titled ragdoll,

-

4) You are having a premonition. Fold the napkins up just right.

Pour belladonna and sugarplum into the jam. You didn’t mean to. 

I know, I know. There’s no bedside vigil for the messiah. Do this for

me. You are the mantelpiece with the gun attached. Did I say this? 

You are drowning through the drought until you part the olive branch

Do this for me. Pour belladonna and sugarplum into your mouth.

Sit and wait for sunrise. You are the worst of suns and sons. You didn’t

mean to. I know, I know. Don’t look back. She is right there. Do this

for me. Don’t look back. Swallow the jam. It gets easier. It has to get

easier. Do this for me. Sit and wait for me. Don’t look back. I cannot

tell you anything but do this for me. Do this for me. Don’t look back.

5) You are dying. 

6) Do this for me.

7) Die, ragdoll. Die, you bastard thing.

8) Are you still breathing? This is not hard to understand; try harder

9) A gun to my neck. You know what to do. Wet your lips. Buckle

your knees. Grit your teeth. Don’t look at me. Do this for me. You

know I’ve been ready for so long. You know I can do it. I cannot tell

you anything but do this for me. You didn’t mean to. I know, I know.

10) You are never going to die. You will never stop killing me. 

1) Jesus comes back.

#nightmare.poetry #religion tw #repetition tw #paranoia tw #suicide tw #<- not exactly the implications but i know they seem adjacent #sorry this starts off on number 4; number 3 had something i didn't feel comfortable posting- #-and it would have been weird to just get rid of that part #also i bet tumblr is gonna fuck with this formatting like hell

[elytrafemme]

Our ugliest creation is your spine. I watch it convulse around itself across the sheets, wishing I could sink my teeth in it, make it stop its undulations. Two Decembers ago, you took a pen across every bone in my body while the scavengers we called doctors watched, and you said she’s fragile here, do you see it break? A year, maximum. Two years ago, you’d already given me every reason to want you dead. You told them don’t you see it and they said we can’t save her and I say burn in hell, you bastard things, burn in fucking hell.

-

thinking about rock bottoms (excerpt of a longer poem i wrote today)

#nightmare.poetry #i'm still tinkering with the two years ago you gave me reasons to want you dead line #i feel like something needs to be between the two quotations to manage the flow but i'm not sure if i like how thats articulated #eh. it'll go through editing. i prefer posting rough drafts #ok to rb

[elytrafemme]

You do not want there to be a God. Has it ever struck you that your business with It might already be finished?

- 

not all the way sure where im taking this poem, but i like this line a lot. 

#nightmare.poetry #id share more but im posting this to another site probably dont want it to get tracked down #ask to tag #ok to rb

[elytrafemme]

now that ive posted that im looking thru my most recent poems. so far they r titled going backwards chronological: 

ON PAPERCUTS, FLIRTING WITH MY BEST FRIENDS’ LOVER, IT MUST GET WORSE, ON JUPITER, When I Kill You, ragdoll, down the bay, counting the hours, 

will stop there but if we skip a few we get 

FINALLY EXPLAINING THE GUN / in several parts

which is one of my faves <3

#nightmare.poetry #not sure why so many r capitalized #i experiment a lot w formatting of poem titles ive gone thru a lot of types over the yrs #snippet i posted is from ragdoll <3 which is loosely abt doing things that r unfavorable out of the ease of ir + training urself into that #i think i wanna give it a hopeful reprise but ill need a few yrs for it #uhmm what other ones can i chat abt #FINALLY EXPLAINING THE GUN / in several parts is abt how most of my poems have this specific reference #to a gun on the mantlepiece and it is like the poem Abt That #flirting w my best friends lover is abt sharing the same struggle as all your friends and crumbling under the pressure of shared toxicity #when i kill you is about hating someone who does not hate you back #on papercuts is kind of a sillier one i just am pissed bc i hit my pinky while trying to get my math hw out LOL

[elytrafemme]

DO NOT REBLOG but comments + asks are okay etc <3

excerpt of a personal poem i wrote under the cut! CW for gun mentions! some parts are redacted etc for personal reasons but those are either [REDACTED], X, or just [...]-ed out of it

[...]

(III)

It’s not just about me, is the issue with it, right? Like, 

I wasn’t the only one there. It’s like, like one of those old paintings, 

maybe this painting doesn’t exist. Maybe I made it up.

A bunch of people clawing to touch the center stage 

dressed in these thick satin mockeries, gloves punctured by hungry nails

and I’m with the lights. Not the stars, the lights. Up at the top. Cockpit.

Watching the whole thing go on. 

I wasn’t the only one there, and it’s not just about me, I don’t think it ever was. 

Sometimes I had company up there. That was never really good. 

Most of the time I was alone. Better. 

[...]

(VII)

X had a good taste in music

a lot of like, old rock sort of songs? A bit of punk?

Some anime soundtracks just for flavor?

I end up meeting a lot of people into that stuff 

and honestly? I respect the hell out of it

I try to get into punk ‘cause I think I have the emotion for it 

The rage, the politics

But the music hurts my ears. So maybe not 

Maybe I’m too goddamn sensitive and that’s the point here

But I wish I could say I tried to listen to those songs again

that I didn’t just outright abandon them when everything fell apart

but that’s what I did. I couldn’t take it 

It’s good ass music

I just haven’t tried again 

[...]

(IX) 

It was above X’s dad’s mantle 

It was just, it was just sat right up there 

because it’s [REDACTED], the easy side 

but still gun country 

And look, I don’t - I didn’t know what to do 

Like, you have to understand,

I had no fucking idea what I was doing - 

I know you’re not blaming me, but

just know that I was trying, okay, I - 

Yeah, yeah. Deep breaths

Just - there was a gun, and 

this isn’t going where you think it’s going - 

I know your expression. You think it ended there

but that’s kind of how everything started

[...]

#nightmare.poetry #DO NOT REBLOG #my favorite part is actually the first and last section but they are too identifying and intense so i left em out #there are 10 parts to it!

[elytrafemme]

SEVENTEEN - nlm c!tubbo poem

-

#nightmare.poetry #dsmp poetry #c!tubbo poetry #new l'manberg poetry #rbs help a lot!!!!! this is not very well edited but i hope you like it #this style is based off of a poem i wrote for myself a while ago #i'll rb in a second with the direct words under a cut just wanted to make sure #people had the option to see the specific style of it #c!tubbo

[elytrafemme]

ON THE DISSECTION OF A FLOWER

cut the thin petals, pink veneer

pressed bloody into the pages of a notebook:

this is how you know your husband,

his loveliness & cruelties; his virtues & vices

FLOWERS DO NOT SPEAK. this is all he ever tells you

& you hate him like a widower hates the sun after her husband’s death.

which is to say you do not hate the sun,

he has just arisen after death and is tearing at the seams

afraid of necromancy & his chosen place in it.

you do not hate the sun, but you hate your husband

in the way that you hate the quiver of a firework,

or rather the quiver of your hand

as you try to launch fireworks—

exposure therapy never works but you’re addicted to the scientific process

testing the theses of dissecting a flower & regrowing dead skin

as if you could live with yourself when they are restored,

as if you are not so sickened by secrets that

when your husband is alive, you will not know what to say

the places on the floorboard where you hear a heartbeat

& the hour that dawns when he comes back

flowers & diamonds & the ever-lasting gloom of sacrifice

as you ring around the roses of his hollow eyes

that once held bouquets of pink tulips

& every last conversation he never lived to see

you cannot love him but you always do

there are weeds & there are flowers & your lover is neither

only proven by the rhythmic vivisection of divorced blood

hypothesizing the morals & fears of a dead boy.

#nightmare.poetry #c!beeduo poetry #beeduo poetry #dsmp poetry #death tw #ask to tag #sorry the picture is taken sort of poorly :( #REBLOGS ARE VERY APPRECIATED!!! :D

[elytrafemme]

ON WITNESSING YOUR BROTHER DIE

the revolution of wildfires along the crescent side of a mountain range mar the skin of every last man you trusted & it is as if you can identify through the rot and apathy who you once let cradle you with hands in your hair & the honey-sweet footsteps you took to reach the chapel 

| concertos sink like a remedy / you cannot drink solo acts (through the thick of medicine & potions & mushroom soup) |

stained glass arches of Prime extend a despondent touch of sympathy as you faithfully recall the day your brother said to you that there are men & kings & gods & you would never be any & you asked who could be left & he just laughed because you are the revolution that never learned to play chess & ached & cried for every bit of explosives you heard & could never move your pieces right & everyone is a march but you can never quite learn where your baby feet place into the ash soaked earth like a wildfire that sniffles out into a wisp of ember because it strayed too far from the trees

| there is a man in a red cloak & a boy in your red bandana / both like clockwork with its human side hidden as if redstone has not adapted to walk across this earth / & you have to sympathize with your brother for deconstructing himself until he is red powder & symphony of ticking & you brave the firestorm to ask 

why are you man & king & god 

all that we swore not to become? |

there is a fire in a pit and a boy with his hand in yours & he is your best friend in the finely pressed lines of a suit & his pinky links with your pulse & that is enough for you to say all that which you will never say because men like their secrets & your best friend is a man & you are a boy

| you are broken for your lack of hubris / you will never bring your brother back |

when you reunite, you think awful bitter words & you cannot lead with honey-sweet footsteps after your sour plum pit was pried out with evergreen nails & your boots are untied & he watches you fumble to fix them & you want to scream 

i hope you never become a politician again & i wish it were easier while you were gone & i need an older brother to be unkind to me & i will die in your stead to make you proud & i have clawed out of death with the hands we both share & this is our nature isn’t it & there is a wildfire on the crescent side of a mountain & i miss you & i hate you & i love you & you are a brother to me & i wish i never witnessed your death & the birds call your name & i do not know if it is a lark or a crow & we were named after wildfires / or rather, the aftermath

| is your brother truly dead if you only ever saw the flame? | 

a man & a king & a god all sing for a dead country

& the trinity of your brother’s machinations all arise to mourn for himself

#nightmare.poetry #c!tommy poetry #tommy poetry #reblogs appreciated #i apologize for any canotical inaccuracies this is a vent piece. #c!crimeboys poetry

[elytrafemme]

song shit

VERY unedited i wrote this like 10 min ago and have not tried singing it so bear w 

i hate the way you make the way back home like the sky is swallowing me up 

in this massive, celestial mouth, like you’re a mouthpiece to the otherworldly clock 

i hate the way you’re drowning me with the judgements of a god of the haunt 

with this lucky voice to tell me there’s nothing else i’ll ever want 

i want everything, i want your throat, i want the piece of you that made 

you fall in love with me, and ireland, and that stupid fucking drink to my jade

the way everything was below your unearthliness, give me some of that 

how to not be scared of those who loved you, because i carry a baseball bat

#nightmare.poetry #listen i was playing a burning hill on repeat #this is alright to rb

[elytrafemme]

hey babe wake up mare’s dropping a poem she wrote a little over a year ago for no reason on the fandom sideblog!!! (spoiler alert this has nothing to do with any character but if you for some reason associate it with one i’ll take that too) 

“hey, honeybee,”

she whispers, and i have heard

the echoes of sanctity from a wasp who bites

leaves a history of marks

(one day, i will tear through 

because i never had a stinger

only claws,)

and she says, “hey, honeybee,”

and i curl against her lips as she says,

“i can build a world for you.”

i have seen death in myself

the rotting of a flowered heart, as i tangle in my sheets

i can feel her in the places i shouldn’t

(if she was here, she would kiss me and whisper,

this isn’t real, you are lying, you are a liar,

and we are nothing but

queens of liars 

holding hands, brushing through hair)

my fingertips burn into my pillows.

“hey, honeybee,”

a wasp tells a wolf, perched on her pelt

bleeding, torn from her pack,

hungry, always hungry, and empty aside from the adrenaline,

the wasp whispers, “hey, honeybee,”

and the wolf looks to the moon 

“i can find a place for you.”

when i come to, running through a forest

where i am finally away from her arms

i see my pack, and i see a creek

and i fall, fall, fall

(someone will find me, flick the mushrooms imprinted on me

ask why i am breathless

i will open my mouth, say, “to run from a wasp…”

and i will die.)

“hey, honeybee,”

i giggle against her hair, scented like strawberries,

she holds me closer, and i playfully squirm

and we laugh for hours

until her saccharine words make me forget who i am,

and yet, “hey, honeybee,”

i sober up on the wine we found as kids,

“don’t you know i would die for you?”

-a wasp’s interlude

#nightmare.poetry #ask to tag #i've never really shared my poetry before i am genuinely nervous #please be kind to me i'm not all that excellent at this #rbs are appreciated if you would like to do that but just liking is alright too ;D #meant that to just be :D but okay then i'm winking ig

[elytrafemme]

mare posts poetry excerpts p.2

under the cut always, the formatting is a little messed up but i would rather not insert a screenshot here.

i press my nails to my temples to touch the hollow there, like an iron. 

(do not soften your naked body with fire. do not?)

the white dwarf of my vitality is clouded by its planetary nebula 

space dust lighting the cracks in my skin. 

if i had enough strength to think, i would be the smartest alive 

yet intellect is killed in this body not fit for death.

i ask to be wise. i am not wise. 

on my sixteenth year of existing within the ankle of laniakea 

i am conversing with spirits never dead, only living. 

to a physicist i want to kiss, i will explain my love is parallax 

but this is not the story where i fall in love 

and ruin it with my whole heart as if it were my magmus opis

the precipice of my art, as self-destructive as the rest. 

this is the story where i tell my psychiatrist i am sagittarius a

the first indication of another existence.

this is the story in which my mother takes me to a gynecologist 

with pretty tears wracking my body days before

murmuring to a lover that she is my event horizon. 

if sagittarius a is a self-fulfilling prophecy 

i am oh so terribly dark and inconsolable. 

there is a hollowness behind my eyes, and i pull myself through it.

#nightmare.poetry