inevitable-english-major

[inevitable-english-major]

back on track

i never really thought of myself as an athlete,

but for the first time in a long time

i feel strong.

and even more astonishing,

i feel free.

by lap two all i feel is the burn in my lungs

and it's a better burn than before.

cleaner.

healthier.

powerful.

and i feel powerful.

i feel the energy

coursing through my veins,

surging through my body,

my muscles.

and after months of fighting

finally,

i feel alive.

#original poem #my poem #poem #poems on tumblr #prose poem #poemsbyme #poemsaboutlove #original writing #writer #writers on tumblr #writerscreed #spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled prose #spilled thoughts #spilled heart #spilled writing #spilled ink

[inevitable-english-major]

the last words you ever said to me were

'its been real'

and as I walked away I thought

that finally it was

#spilled prose #spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled thoughts

[inevitable-english-major]

dads be like 'heading to the store, new triscuit flavor just dropped'

#relatable #funny #dad #meme #dadmeme

[inevitable-english-major]

sometimes i think the memories might burn me out

images in my mind

your lips on glass

my lips, taste of grapes, pushing out fumes, pushing out truth,

pushing out

lies (get out, get out);

to myself

to my body

to my parents

and to you.

i seize up and i want to rip the thoughts from my mind (get out, get out) and i want never to have to picture any things like that again.

and you tell me not to worry about you but I'm not worried about you.

I'm worried about me (will i get out),

and the grape flavored lies i wrap up now.

here's a nice neat one, twisted at the end like you taught me, rolled up ready for you to enjoy; milk dud mouthpiece, like you taught me, won't you savor it, darling?

slowly now, draw it out (out! out!) now and make it last, these moments are all you'll have against the sickening scenes, memories pounding against the new walls you've built (let me out).

we're different now, maybe wanting different things, drag me different lengths, i always finished in three or two; less, less,

but the smell is the same,

and what's inside is the same, and you?

more or less

the same.

(breathe out, step back in)...

#draft #original poem #poem #poetry #my poetry #my writing #free verse #blank verse #spilled prose #prose poem #prose #spilled words #i loved to smoke until you burnt me out #writerscreedrun

[inevitable-english-major]

I'm sad on a saturday

and i feel bad

that

the second my dreams end i start to cry.

'I'm back'

are you glad to see me?

or are you sorry for the silent drives and

the rings i tried to give back,

(years apart).

(like us, i guess).

because, I'm sorry; for the broken ankle,

and the pen on the grassy hill,

above the mausoleum and all the words i

didn't say and even more all the ones

i did

welcome to the waiting line of days

the sit-and-watch-the-clock-tick of loves

i meant to be there faster,

i meant to slow down.

i never meant to silence your words;

is forgiveness still on the table?

i haven't eaten in days

#original poem #original writing #writing #my poetry #my poem #my writing #poetry #poem #prose poem #spilled prose #spilled thoughts #spilled words #im sorry #please forgive me #are you mad at me? #im sorry you can't get a word in #i promise i'm trying #writerscreedRun

[inevitable-english-major]

i throw it against a wall in my head that each night we lose five more minutes of reality, and/or sanity, whatever the difference may be. it hits a wall of mathematics. twelve nights and we’d lose an hour. and so on. how we’d so soon slip--

the angel in my head slaps me and unravels my last thoughts.

how we’d so soon slip, and so on.

an hour and we’d lose twelve.

nights of mathematics.

it hits a wall.

maybe the difference - whatever.

reality and/or sanity, we lose.

five more minutes each night.

i lose my head against that wall.

we throw it in a--

the angel in my head slaps me again and just takes them away.

i am a body at rest. time hasn’t any meaning, everything could happen at once and it wouldn’t matter. five more minutes is twenty years from now is last week.

slowly, i wake up. i slowly lose the dream as i try to scribble it all down. my pen is a root of the great tree and my notepad is a hellish landscape. i put the tree down ( it sighs ) and i walk out of my bedroom to a burning sky.

it is cold, but the sky leaps and bounds and smokes, as something of a massive weight floats above. ( its many eyes are closed. )

an axolotl watches me from afar, giving me a sense of peace. five more minutes of this, just five more--

the angel in my head disconnects your wire from this system.

[inevitable-english-major]

a good reminder real writing is honest

thank you for being one of those rare teachers you love with your whole soul, who you carry with you a little bit your whole life, whispering 'thank you for lifting me up when I needed it the most'

I had a dream I saw you last night. We were on a train together, not speaking. Just sitting next to each other, our hands in our laps.

At the start of 2020, I had many dreams and goals and stupid ideas about things. I went back through all the pictures, watching the light in my eyes come back to rest. I find a note that I wrote myself - more friends! More YES!

You and I on the train don't speak. In a life before this, I would have been angry, maybe. Instead I am sad to my core about things. I try to shift people more tenderly these days. I actually turn out to be shit at setting boundaries, but I'm getting better about being open. About honesty.

I probably owe you an apology. I don't actually know if I do, or if you owe me one, or if it matters at all. There has been a lot of endings this year. I have killed about a third of what I planted. I have learned how to find the gentlest places. My new resolutions are simple and strange - to allow myself space. To take more joy in waiting. To share more moments. To hold nothing sacred except each other.

In my dream, the light shifts through the windows and the handles swing and neither of us are crying. In the real life, I keep getting messages from my students; thank-you notes because I actually treated them like people and told them to take my class less seriously than a pandemic. It feels sort of agonizing - I'm glad I could do something for them, but I don't understand how my bare minimum was more than the respect they're getting elsewhere.

I didn't pick up any hobbies. I haven't really been productive. I will be mad at myself about it, in due time - I am always historically mean to myself about terrible things. But right now I feel sort of at peace. I am just here for a ride, like you are, and the train is moving.

[inevitable-english-major]

somedays you sit on the floor of the shower bracing yourself to glue those pieces back together.

i hope one day i stop running and slow down enough to stop dropping so many plates....

how am i supposed to be the one people look after? i am still waking up and getting out of bed. i can stand up in the shower. i have friends i sometimes-see. who is selfishly unhappy in times like these? my father used to say - you have a roof over your head and food to eat. you’re lucky.

i am lucky. i know this. i have yelled at myself about it many times. 

the doctor is brusque. he talks down to me. i find myself thinking: my cat died three weeks ago. is it only three weeks? i have to do laundry. the bill didn’t get covered the way i expected, i’ll have to work extra hours to cover my medical expenses.

i find the loop i get stuck in. i am going have to only eat tuna (but i’m lucky i can stomach it). i am going to have to find a new job with benefits that agree to cover a preexisting medical condition (but i am lucky i have work experience). i am going to have to apologize to my school (but i’m lucky i have three months left of learning). i am going to take a shower i sob during (but i am lucky i have a shower when some people have nothing).

i clean up the sink and i break a single dish. it’s not a big one. i just dropped it a little bit, and it cracked down the center. i can replace it (lucky). it has no significance in my life at large - it is not my favorite, it is not the last of a set, there is nothing even particularly nice about it (lucky, isn’t it).

i am eggshell thin. the plate cracks down the center and i just finally feel something. like pewter through skin.

i am lucky, i think, to be crying about something so ridiculous. i am lucky, i am terribly selfish, i am blessed beyond measure and reason, i am a whiny baby with no sense of the real world.

i wipe my face. i finish the dishes. i clean up the big parts first and then stare at the little ones. is this how close i have been walking to the edge of being broken? is this all it took?

how the fuck did i not notice?

[inevitable-english-major]

this makes the hours i spend scrolling through tumblr poetry worth it

[inevitable-english-major]

eight feet tall but the heels come off.

without them your toes tuck under the covers and you huddle under layers of blankets like anyone else in the world; like me even.

fingers in your hair and it's all over, i have a strange way of drawing out love (we are not in love) from people i think are far past loving me.

it's funny how the things we learn come out in little ways; i know how to curl my body around yours, how to shift my shoulder without waking you up, just enough to coax your head into the space between my collarbone and the skin below my ears.

not so tough now, do i wanna know a secret? you try hard to be this funny.

not so tall now, the heels come off. you can tell today is one of the days you feel like talking.

a touch and it's game over, it's always been strange to me who you decide to let in and when. nothing all summer, and then a call and we're sitting under a tree in the parking lot picking apart life.

you're not in love with me, nor i you -- we exchange assurances -- but you bury your head beneath my arm in a way that i know that there is so much love, in there. you know too.

why would you want to kiss me? we know that we fall into a different kind of place in the range of love.

well you're right. lonely and bored, emotionally distant. you can be there for the long run without pulling anything along. unavailable hearts. available bodies. free minds.

five foot eight when the heels come off.

we could have a lot of fun when you pull them back on...

#original poem #my poem #love poem #poetry #my poetry #writer #poetsandwriters #spilled poetry #poet #were in love with different people #but if youre ever lonely give me a call #free verse #new poets society #writerscreed #prose #poemsporn #prose poem #writerscreedRun

[inevitable-english-major]

hey!!!! folklore most definitely IS about The Great Gatsby >:(

if you think about it, every song is actually about [current hyperfixation]

#the great gatsby #folklore #taylor swift

[inevitable-english-major]

we live in the city, misty and gray.

i smoke cigarettes, because someone told me i wouldn't be as alone and now i can't stop.

you smoke because you’d smoke anything if you heard it'd fight the pain.

we fight in alleyways.

we talk in different circles at the same party, high in different ways.

we f-ck other people.

sometimes it's each other;

but we can't forget each other's people, and it crouches in the corner, watching us as we watch each other.

we don't lose our love but it is wild like an animal, running and bashing into things, wreckage,

crash!

we destroy ourselves.

we destroy each other.

we put ourselves back together.

the patches are sloppy, like tape over skin.

the cuts reopen.

we know they will but we don't stop it.

it's too hard.

we’re too far gone.

we dress in band t-shirts and ripped jeans;

we don't remember how they ripped.

we don't remember much.

we live our own lives, we bounce

in and out of touch,

we wreck ourselves, respectively.

we forget together;

mostly.

when will it stop

we wonder, but trudge on;

it will, for me and

you

when we decide we're tired of running.

the beast will always be an animal,

savage and wild;

but it will grow old, and remember pain.

and it will remember it's training over many years,

and act up less,

until the wolves don't scratch at each other's throats,

but curl together in the boxes, in the alleys,

saving up and bracing for the day

they will leave the dark and

find a home.

#spilled poetry #poetry #poem #poems on tumblr #my poem #poetsandwriters #writers on tumblr #love poem #sad poem #sometimes you make me feel like we live in differebt worlds you only letting me in when you want to get high on old love #free verse #prose #writerscreed #new poets society #prose poem #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled prose #writerscreedrun