working on my tumblr blog like marie antionette tended to her garden at versailles
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I feel like Iâm in a new era with my poetry like Ive been writing a lot over the past week and it feels so different from my past worksâin tone, in technique, in figurative language, in word choice, etcâŚIâm genuinely proud of what Iâve been writing and Iâm so happy and excited :3 unfortunately canât share it rn thoâŚ.
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My poem, âDisappointing Fruit, or A Tempest of My Own Making,â winner of Coastal Carolina Universityâs Creative Sociology contest, is now published in a special issue of Waccamaw Journal! You can read my piece and the other winnersâ incredible pieces here
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Today I found your poem WHEN I RECEIVED MY DIAGNOSIS, OR, FUCK YOU ALL FOR FAILING THE NEURODIVERGENT GIRL in a google search for poems about rage. It made me feel so seen. From there I found your blog on the app and am thoroughly enjoying the things you write. Thank you for sharing them
woah :o thank u for this message, Iâm so glad my words have resonated with you!
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the one thing i want to be able to do as a writer is make people come back to something ive written. i want that piece of text to haunt them, i want their thoughts to be briefly consumed by this. i want this to be something they remember long after its time. thats the one thing i want to do
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The Hinges of My Mother
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No progress has been made oh Iâm sick
my focus is now on writing poems/polishing old poems and putting together a new manuscript so I can hopefully publish a book âď¸ so I wonât be posting poems here or submitting new works to be published in lit mags
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just won first place in coastal carolinaâs creative sociology writing contestđđđ
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poetry is a fundamental food group if you dont read a decent poem once or twice a month you get soul anemic bone tired and all that
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new mitski album really inspiring me to write more poetry
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going to a club and showing them my id that says im mutuals with a niche internet micro celebrity. the bouncer kisses me on the lips.
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my focus is now on writing poems/polishing old poems and putting together a new manuscript so I can hopefully publish a book âď¸ so I wonât be posting poems here or submitting new works to be published in lit mags
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My poem, âDISCOVERING MY OWN DIVINITY IN THE SWIMMING POOLâ is now up on mag twenty twentyâs blog! You can also listen to me read the piece and read a (long) note about my inspiration for the piece here!
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Withering Spring
transcript under the cut.
[transcript:
On the playground in the spring / picking honeysuckles off a bush and / hesitantly placing the stem on my / tongue, my insistent classmates promising / they are edible / I close my eyes and tentatively / suck on the stem / the nectar never reaching / my tongue but still I try / to believe
Now the playground is gone / my classmates unrecognizable / spring has returned once again and / my head floods / with the memories / of laughing in the shade with old friends / so I pluck a honeysuckle off a / bush and place the stem on my tongue / remembering the ritual I once partook in and / feeling the heat of disappointment / on my face when I find / the nectar is not sweet on my tongue / but sour with the rot / of my ever-decaying / childhood.
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hi everyone ! i just enabled tipping on my blog if anyone ever wants to toss me some chaaange :3 would appreciate it heehee
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NO SIGNAL published in the inaugural issue of All Existing Mag. I am so honored to be a part of this magazine's inaugural issue alongside so many talented creatives. I love love weird art, and if you do too, then this magazine is the one to look out for!
Transcript under the cut.
[Transcript: "Let's get away from this place, / from these self-serving people and the / suffocating smog of animosity.
Take me somewhere warm, where we can lazily soak up the sunshine / where I can hold you close.
Aren't you sick of this place? / even the butcher with the missing / ring finger says, run, girl, and don't you look back.
Won't you grab my hand? / pack up your things, we'll be gone / before the sun leaves us / in the hands of the moon.
Laugh in my face / yours twisted in disgust, baring your teeth at me / so I'll leave this desolate place on my own, / smile knowingly when the butcher / says, you know, there's a reason it's my ring finger that's missin'.
and my lover eludes me once more." [/end]
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