lbth - Tumblr blog

lbth · 3 months

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Loneliness

There is this deep, deep loneliness that I can't shake,

It was from before, from all this time before that I have lived every moment but cannot grasp,

That was always beyond my control.

Maybe this is why I love tarot cards

Because my life has never existed with control.

Love, love, love.

Illusion, illusion, illusion.

Even these words are false and don't belong to me.

There is a loneliness that this language cannot reach

where the language that was once a bridge has been lost to me forever.

One must google...or ask chatGPT?

How does one build a bridge from one steep mountain to another?

Deep down the chasm there is only darkness

As the mountains cast faint red shadows against

A tired, but relentless straining heart.

#writerscorner #writers on tumblr #writers #writerscreed #writing #poets corner #poets on tumblr #short poem #original poem #writers and poets #poems and poetry #love #language #spilled feelings #spilledink #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled thoughts #illusions

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lbth · 1 year

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I Lost My Eyes

One day I woke up and found that I had lost my eyes. I thought it didn’t matter because now I would never cry again. I found myself on the ground of a snowy woodland, numb with cold. I was thirteen years old and there was nowhere to go but forward. I was wearing my orange jumper and grey corduroy trousers, both soggy from the melting snow.

The wind rustled in my ear. There’s a lake ahead of you. There you can lie down on the dry grass and fall asleep with the sunlight on your face. You just have to keep going for now.

I walked through the forest. The sockets where my eyes had been were cold and empty. They felt sore to touch but the blood around the rims had now dried and crusted. I didn’t know how long I needed to walk before I got to the lake. I didn’t even know if I was going in the right direction because I couldn’t see, but there was nowhere to go but forward.

One night I sat down and felt lonely for the first time. My thoughts must have been heard because the next morning I found a rose that had grown inside my left eye socket.

I stood up again to walk. By now the snow was melting and I could hear sounds of spring in the distance. I knew this was all because of the rose. Every sensation became imbued with a hue of its own. The scent of flowers. The flutter of butterflies. The warmth of air. As its petals rustled, a world with colour slowly rose out of a haze.

That night, I fell asleep feeling the emptiness of where my right eye had been. I dreamed of having another rose to fill up the space. When the sun came around in the morning, my world was set ablaze in kaleidoscopic light.

Reality had become a dream filled with the scent of summer. I was in a jungle and I could feel life in every corner. My head was dizzy with excitement. What I could only dream of seeing had materialised into things I could reach out and feel. My footsteps became faster and faster. I was half afraid that this world would end and half hoping that I could extinguish those fears by drawing myself more deeply into its maze.

I started to feel blisters on my feet and I could feel my breath struggling as I stumbled through the long blades of grass. My head was getting heavier. I realised that now all types of flowers imaginable, not just roses, were growing in full abundance from my eye sockets, with each petal adding more weight to my step. I could also hear the sound of water lapping against rocks. The lake was now in sight.

But then I fell, when I was one arm’s length away.

I couldn’t move any further. I tried to move again and again, but it seemed as though I was moving against gravity. Moving against a relentless, imaginary force.

I might have caught a reflection of myself in the water, maybe for a second. Then the water trickled down from the banks. It receded into a small pool in the middle, and then shrunk into nothing. The dry banks scorched red under the sunlight.

I was so exhausted. Mirage, dream, hallucination. They all mean slightly the same but also completely different. I wasn’t sure which one it was. In the distance, dark clouds had gathered.

I woke up in the night and found that I could barely lift my head. It seemed as though a million hands were pressing down on me. I blinked, and I could see everything and nothing at the same time: the light and shadow of every being and object in the world had converged into a shade of pure beige, the colour of latte that my mother used to order at restaurants when I was a child, and I had thought the world of her for being able to order something so grown-up.

I reached up to my head to feel mounds and mounds of flowers that had bloomed into a towering column, which rose above me and into the sky. In desperation I began to break off some of its branches, but they kept growing and growing ceaselessly. I could feel blood running down my hands as the thorns cut my skin. The sound of thunder rang in my ears and down my shoulders and spine. I couldn’t tell whether it was my blood or the rain that had started to form puddles around me.

I kept trying to rip the flowers out but realised they had grown deeply from within my skull. As I lay there on the ground trying to catch my breath, I could see that every small movement of the flowers tugged at my chest, their roots pulsing with every beat of my heart.

I found myself motionless on the ground, numb with cold. I was wearing hospital scrubs which were soggy from the rain. And then I felt electricity burn through my veins, before seeing strips of lightning that flashed across the sky.

I don’t remember how I lost my eyes, whether it was my choosing or someone else’s. In the beginning I thought it was my mother’s, who wanted me to have more beautiful eyes like hers. I imagine her taking me to a shop run by a kind-looking old lady, where there are rows and rows of flowers suspended in jars on shelves. There’s a catalogue detailing all the prices. I point to the one with a rose and my mum agrees to buy them for me even though they are expensive. She tells me it's because she loves me. I sit on a chair as though I am at the dentist’s, and the old lady rips my eyes out with cold metal. The moment her scalpel digs in I know I have made a mistake, but it’s too late. My mother looks at me with a concerned face and holds my hand and tells me that I can endure anything, and that everything will always turn out fine. And of course I was strong enough to endure it. If I wasn’t strong enough, then what type of mother would that make her?

But I don’t know if this is really how I lost my eyes. I don’t know if I imagined all of that and I don’t know what exactly happened. I just know that I’ve lost my eyes. Can you help me think of why…

The next morning the sky is clear, and I am sitting in a flooded ditch. The body of water collected from the rainstorm has turned a deep blue. Dead roses float about, some with their petals charred and others still singeing with trails of smoke.

My eyes are hollow again. I am twenty-three, two months away from turning twenty-four. I smell the scent of white lilies in the air. I wonder if new seeds have already been sown, or if there is still old material to purge. I sit here for a bit longer, even though I know I cannot sit forever but for now let me believe I will be alright.

#spilledink #short story #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled feelings #writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #fantasy #catharsis #eyes #roses #i lost my eyes #shorts #writerscreed #writerscorner #writerscommunity #writersontumblr

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lbth · 1 year

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tumblr

Sometimes I think there are apps that are just suited for you. It’s been ten years since I first started a tumblr account (this is my second one, unfortunately I deleted my first one...) but I just keep coming back. I think in here I’m able to most freely write in a way where I don’t have to care about the judgement of others or someone who I potentially know coming across this (I absolutely hate phone contacts syncing).

Even the hashtags are comforting in a nostalgic way.

There are a couple of poems I wrote here that I completely forgot I wrote. It was a pleasant surprise...which is nice, because today I was re-reading stuff I wrote ten years ago and my god did I cringe hard...

Anyway, here’s to more writing.

#spilled thoughts

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lbth · 3 years

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what belongs to me

Will I choose the reflection in the mirror

Or the ghost in my head

Which voices will I keep

In the memories sleeping within me

Always borrowed, never owned

To kill a butterfly, to set sail

Only to dream a world forever

Than to be in another's dream

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lbth · 3 years

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ocean silence

One day I'll wake up in my room

Next to the whispering ocean

A cold space within my head

All my dreams safely forgotten

Open the doors, drag my toes

Through the crumbling sand

To feel alone and alive

At the edge of a silent blue

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lbth · 3 years

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There are things such as wrong decisions and we only realise when it is probably too late and something has been lost. Of course we have also gained something in the place of what we couldn't be brave enough to receive - but that something was always meaningless to us.

And now we stand alone when certain moments strike us, music ringing in ears, realising all that lost time will forever be buried away and we will spend the remaining of our days trying to cut away the security we asked for when we gave away our meaning.

It is far easier to add time than to subtract. There is a quote that roughly reads: if you want to get somewhere, you must run twice as fast, otherwise you will stay in the same place. I have been running, but only now I can see what I lost was already and had always been behind me.

#spilled feelings #prose #spilled ink #spilledink #spilledprose #writing #writers on tumblr #feelings #spilled prose #prose writing #writers #writerscommunity #time #regrets #lost time

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lbth · 3 years

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Afterlife

Let me wake up tomorrow

Fresh eyes, heart aching

Stumble through this eternal dream

Always one moment away from living

Make wishes on falling stars again

Realise we can never go back

Lie beside you on the grass before dawn

Always one word away from love

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lbth · 3 years

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Icarus

Tonight we sleep under the stars

But tomorrow I will be gone

Like a moth drawn to the flame

Our dreams charred to the bone

Maybe I should've given up

Spent the rest of my days in your arms

Take solace in the shadows

Celebrating this love that will never see light

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lbth · 3 years

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little moon secrets

let's trade our secrets in the dark

one for every freckle on your cheek

two for the eyes i've always wanted

three for the chances you never gave me

i read everything between your lips and touch

you shine the brightest in the night

only without the sun do we become one

twin fishes swimming in moonlight

one for my soul that was born from you

two for the ears that hear too much

three for the home with only room for one

let's pretend we don't keep any secrets in the dark

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lbth · 3 years

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coffee in the clouds

one day it'll be summer again

we'll sit under the blue sky

drink coffee and talk about how

we used to put our dreams on hold

how we almost gave up our lives

melted them away with the snow

how it was the thought of coffee with you

that finally found me a new home

#writing #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled thoughts #spilled prose #spilled words #spilled everything #spilled writing #prose #writerxxx #writerscreed #dark academia #poetry #poem #poets corner #poets on tumblr #spilled poem #poetscommunity

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lbth · 3 years

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narcissus

Separated by the air we breathe

You’ve always been the face of my dreams

I should’ve walked away, set you free

Let your voice spill gold

.

So afraid to lose the sight of you

I stayed until gold turned into rust

Now I sit on the edge of the world

In dreams of drowning in yours

.

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lbth · 3 years

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The oil lamp

Pour oil into the lamp

Watch your reflection gather at the bottom

Is it a genie or is it the child

Your eyes are clear and unbroken

Twist the lid tight

Sink your regrets and simmer with fire

From untouched dreams and a mangled life

Comes crawling out a monster

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