ricoiscool

[ricoiscool]

forever in awe of people who pay attention. people who wait for you while you tie your shoes while the others have walked away. when they continue listening intently while the rest of the group stopped listening. noticing your moments of silence when everyone else hasn’t. “this made me think of you” noticing things you never even noticed about yourself. people who say “text me when you get home safe.” people who make you laugh until you cry. childhood friends who keep in touch. people with genuine intentions. people who are soft when the world has given them every opportunity to turn hard. the “let’s get ice cream” at 3am friend. the turn up the music in the car and sing friend. people whose actions match their words. people who make the world feel less chaotic. kindred spirits. the trustworthy and honest. hard workers. good listeners. clear communicators. people who love you for who you are. people who don’t ask you to be anything other than yourself. people who choose you. people who stay.

[ricoiscool]

oh i don't know what young adult needs to hear this but you should google what day your 10,000th day will be & set a reminder in your calendar. it happens somewhere in your 27th year. i was really bummed when i googled my own and found out i had missed it by like 2 months.

(if you missed yours too, no worries, we both get another chance to celebrate 15,000 at 41. Unfortunately you will be 54 years old before you are 20,000 days old, at which point we will have overthrown the concept of linear time anyway)

life is very cute, and you have struggled a very long time to be here, and i love you. sometimes i think we need to invent our reasons for celebration. maybe today you are 10,345 days old. or 12,345. or 8,435. maybe u should just celebrate because it is a weekday, and those are hard days. i love u , light a candle and blow it out. i'm proud of you for staying.

[ricoiscool]

and you’ve felt a hundred different ways about a hundred different things,like how you’re already closer to twenty-one than nineteen, and how we’re only here for a few brief and violent decades. eight if you’re lucky. the beauty and shame of it all, the glitz and the glamour of death itself. the ‘I can’t save myself’ of it all. the ‘living for God and dying for Him’ of it all. the fact that would make it pretty okay if I woke up on some afternoon in July, and you weren’t there to ask how I slept, or ride our bikes together, the ones with flat tires we said we’d pump, with the worn-out leather seats and broken bells and ancient silver paint jobs.

the rusty steel chain of it all.

~ T

#poetry #poem #writing #creative writing #writers and poets #literature #love #spilled ink #quote of the day #quotes #prose poetry #prose #spilled poem #writerscorner #writerscreed

[ricoiscool]

chariots

and after a long day of nothing, you stick your head out the window and stop

you finally notice how tires on tarmac

sound like chariots on sandstone

when it rains,

and how the flats are arranged

like the first letter of your sister’s middle name

you hear cars fly by,

and smell a fresh set of rubber

etching its legacy into a moon-kissed motorway;

a wet autobiography of some accountant’s midlife crisis,

which, by the way, sold zero copies

the first new york times worst seller

you ask the moon how it feels

to die in the morning,

finally coming to terms with it all

~ T

#poetry #poem #writing #creative writing #writers and poets #literature #love #spilled ink #quote of the day #quotes #writerscorner #writerslife #original writing #poem of the day #poemas #dead poets society #prose poetry #prose poem #prose

[ricoiscool]

imy kinda? maybe

[ricoiscool]

Finally give in, and smash your laptop against the staircase. Watch the rejected internship application spill out onto the carpet, and the home video of you and your cousin, and the poorly written love letter from two years ago. Look at all those big red lines, look at the one under your first name! Hey, that one looks like that kid your friend introduced you to in the park after school remember the one they said stabbed some guy in 2018? Don’t look too long, don’t let them ruin that precious precious carpet, and for their love of God don’t get any ideas. Put your most pretentious playlist on full blast. Vacuum your words up and throw them away before anybody finds them You’ve been too quiet for too long it’s too late to be vulnerable do us a favor and throw them away!!

T

#prose poetry #prose #spilled ink #poetry #poem #writing #creative writing #writers and poets #literature #love #quote of the day #quotes #flash fiction #fiction #original writing #my second attempt prose looollllllllll

[ricoiscool]

Just wait. Rot and wait, and watch, and get ready to rot some more again later. Wake up at twilight and lay by the window until late. Watch the sun set for however long it takes, because we don’t know much of anything, let alone what tomorrow brings. Rot by the window some more as the sun comes back and steals your smile. Watch them breathe and drive and play and dream. Pray and hope that tomorrow is finally your turn to live.

Then just sit there. Sit and watch that hourglass go! Look, isn’t it so pretty? Knock the dust off that bible and read some proverbs and chronicles and psalms, and watch the sand trace down the creases in your palms. Wait for the sand to stop coming. Watch it flow forever. Fall back in line. Become the grains, become time herself. Reduce yourself into a golden speck on a beach as bright as your mother‘s smile. A name and surname in the book of life, a candle in the sun. Don’t forget to pray all the while, because time never was in your control, and never will be.

Sink and drown, and rot in your sheets. Let the tide steal your youth, day by day, by day and day and day. Watch the days blend into each other and let it happen. Consume, consume, consume!! a book, a meal, a screen, whatever, consume until you’re consumption itself. Look in the mirror and hate yourself for buying one. Despise the home-wear store, even more than you hate the reflection. Pick at the pimple between your eyes. Watch it bleed and turn into a scar. Wonder how that works because you hate science too. Isn’t that something?

And don’t forget to pray, both for yourself and your neighbour behind the headboard. Remember, they told you they’re trying to believe in God again. Don’t shove it down their throat, though, you’re probably the only bible they’ll ever read.

#poetry #poem #prose poetry #first try #creative writing #writing #writers and poets #literature #love #spilled ink

[ricoiscool]

i’ll keep you alive with music and words, even if nobody cares

[ricoiscool]

The glass of the train window vibrates under my forehead. I can see my own nose and eyes reflected back at me as I stare out at the passing scenery, following the New Jersey landscape bit by bit—now a branch—then a shrub—then a rock—as it flies past. My drawing tablet lies, forgotten, and my stylus rolls back and forth as the train rocks. I’d given up drawing for the more enthralling experience of watching trees rocket past the train. I’ve been staring for twenty minutes. I am transfixed.

I’m snapped out of it by a fit of raucous laughter coming from a few seats down. The two families at the four-seater tables at the center of the car have crossed the aisle and met, joining forces to play a trivia game to pass the time. No one has chosen to remind them that this is the quiet car. It bothers me, but I won’t say anything. If I spoke, I doubt they’d even hear me.

I can’t help but listen. How many hearts does an octopus have? I smile. I bite my lip. She doesn’t know. I try not to think about the curlicue tentacles on the cover of the book I’m reading. I try not to think about the diagram of an octopus’s body—donut-shaped brain and decentralized nervous system and all—I looked up earlier. I try not to think about locking eyes with her, tossing her a wink, gesturing a shhh, and holding up three fingers.

She takes a guess and she’s right. They cheer. They whoop. One team claps her on the shoulder as the other commiserates. Loudly. I am very, very tempted to remind them that they are in the quiet car. But I never could. Just like I could never lock eyes or wink or ask if I could play too. Instead, I just quietly take the time to work on my own art or writing or book or video game or any number things that are just for me. 

I can see New York in the distance. It’s not like the movies, where you can see the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, and Central Park in the same sweeping shot. It’s just some small buildings that slowly stack into bigger buildings. Still, New York looms large in my mind. It’s a loud city with a lot of streets to get lost in and a lot of taxis to get hit by. I’d never fit in—I can’t bring myself to be loud. I’d almost rather stay here, soothed by the oscillation of the car, drawing smooth, gentle lines like I’ve lived on the train all my life.

#writing #fiction #creative nonfiction #prose #flash fiction #short story #trains #poetry #poem #loveeeee this

[ricoiscool]

i have spent a few days listening to the music you like. you have a tattoo of the band's logo on your ribs. you got it when you were still kind of a kid. my first tattoo was a bird instead. i did the math - we got our first tattoos in the same calendar year. isn't that kind of cool.

my mom loves hallmark movies, so i grew up thinking love would look like a firework. it feels like one, after all. it's just that my house wasn't safe. i thought love was a weapon, could be pointed at your eyes. could lose a finger to it, or teeth. my father used to say passion is everything. i thought that meant constant fighting was a good thing. i thought that meant love looked like a week of bickering, because it was worth the the weekend's boombox apology. i thought quiet love was boring. i thought love had to blot out everything, compel the body and the mind like puppetry. i thought love looks like ruining your own dinner table - but at least you set a feast.

but love looks like a scarf. your hands smoothing it down my chest, being sure each of the edges are tucked in, worried about my asthma attacks being cold-activated. i race you while i'm wearing heels, you hold my hand to guide me downhill while walking my dog. we dance in my living room to waltz of the flowers, i show you how to hold your arms in proper ballet port de bras. you write a song about looking out of my window while the snow falls. i ask you to text my friends back while i'm driving. you play dj in the front seat. somewhere on route 93, we start murmuring about secret things.

oh. there is a difference between peace and dispassion. it was never that i feared quiet, it's that i didn't know what safe felt like. i liked the chaos because it was familiar, not because it was kind. i think i used to fear the word wife. i didn't like the idea of long, lonely days and being yelled at for small things. i didn't like the idea of sacrificing my one beautiful life.

you meet my friends and make a point to learn things about them. we both get excited about the other person's passions. you read my book for hours, squinting at the small words. i try to understand basic guitar information. we talk for four hours on the phone while i string together a garland. we talk for six hours while you write a poem. i save a pintrest tip for the summer about making paper kites. i plan us a week-long trip to maine, map out my favorite places for an eventual hike. you fall asleep on the ride home, and i turn down the radio so it won't wake you up. your quiet hands fold over mine.

when i look up, the stars are brighter. how carefully you've woven gold into the corners of my life. when i move, i feel some part of my soul reflected back onto you.

oh, love is not a net. it's a blanket.

[ricoiscool]

baby we could die !!!

we’re on the cusp of calamity

wandering the thin line between

beauty and tragedy

between splendor and madness

like two stars never ever meant to touch,

wildly colliding anyway

we’re speeding into something

that may end us in three seconds flat

a slip of the tongue

a drunk kiss

a slow and torturous goodbye

a brick wall I wouldn’t mind

crashing into

baby, we could die

and they’re watching us crash from the bleachers

they’re watching us crash on the Jumbotron

they’re watching us crash all across the sky

on the world’s biggest screen,

God’s most personal piece

we collide and we crash

and they tell me

get back in there champ

get back in there

and crash some more

crash for us again and again

all across the sky

until all the other stars

have burned out and died

~ T

#poetry #poem #writing #creative writing #writers and poets #literature #love #quote of the day #quotes #spilled ink #spilled poem #dead poets society #poetrycommunity #poetry on tumblr #poem of the day #original writing #writerscorner #writerscreed #writerslife #poems and poetry

[ricoiscool]

hey would you kiss me as a joke. come on dude it’ll be funny. hey. would you kiss me just to. just to see what happens. it could be really silly. it could be really fun. hey. wouldn’t it be funny if we pressed our shoulders together and leaned our heads in and laughed and laughed and laughed until we were basically kissing anyway. wouldn’t it be a laugh if we intertwined our legs while we were lying on the couch watching the last of us and trying not to cry because we didn’t want to let the other know about the kind of love we don’t know if we’ll ever have or really want. wouldn’t it be a gas if we pretended the great unknown was thrilling instead of scary and the feeling in our hands was a celebration of what’s pressed together instead of a mourning of what isn’t. bro. wouldn’t that be so silly goofy.

[ricoiscool]

[ricoiscool]

#no bap

[ricoiscool]

lets meet in the middle sometime soon

[ricoiscool]

(Unrequited love I know nothing about)

You will never look at me the same way I look at you

Like you are the world

My world

My sun, my stars, my sky, the very air in my lungs

My ocean

But I can't breathe underwater and your very presence drowns me

For you do not look at me like I am the world

For you I am the moon

Dragged only by chance into your orbit

An inevitable memory

#loveeeee this #poetry #creative writing #poem #writing #writers and poets #literature #love #quote of the day #quotes #spilled ink

[ricoiscool]

pimple

(a poem by me)

I swear I was gonna tell you how I felt

but I had a pimple below my eye that day.

There was a scab on my bottom lip too.

I’m sure you wouldn’t have minded

but they say first impressions are everything

and I haven’t told you I like you yet so

in this case they really are.

The other day I asked someone what to tell you,

and they said to speak from the heart,

but to tell the truth

I haven’t trusted that guy since I was like nine years old.

I feel like I’ve had the script in my head for weeks though,

like a film studies graduate on the brink of the writing the next Goldeneye

or a worn-out Year 9 drama teacher

planning lessons, trying to get by.

The pages read something like

“Hey.

I think about you a lot,

way more than I’m willing to admit

and when we’re apart I feel sick.

And I mean sick in the best way,

as in,

I want to throw up in my mouth whenever you leave.

Sounds gross, I know

but you’re more than smart enough to understand

I just really like the way you make me laugh,

and the way you hold my hand.

And I love the way you obsess over the smallest of things,

like your heart-shaped hangers

or pink plastic bags for your bins.

And more important and bigger things, like

how you think the world is a rollercoaster because all it does is spin.

Like if God really cares about our feelings

or are we just a collection of our sins?

The way you wonder what plants and animals think

like do they really mess with humans or do they want us extinct?

In the least cliche way possible,

You’re different.

And I know it’s rudimentary but

I really like your face

and I appreciate the way God arranged each of your bones in each specific place.

But, yeah,

the chemicals in my brain are really doing their thing right now

and I’m pretty sure they want me to say

Hey,

I think I like you.”

~ T

#poetry #poem #writing #creative writing #writers and poets #literature #love #quote of the day #quotes #spilled ink #poetrycommunity #poem of the day #poems on tumblr #prose poetry #prose #prose poem #original writing #writerscreed #my wrtitng #writerscorner #writers #writerslife #writeblr #poetblr #poem by me