schizomatic3000

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learning how to code its so fun gonna ditch every other website and hold my own social media paltform but its all about me ^w^

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i kin corwnose

Crownose!! funny little guy that spends perhaps too much time hunting for shiny objects instead of food

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space cadet

Friday night at McDonalds with her family. She wants to go into the play place, but it’s closed for the night so instead she eats standing up in hopes to rid herself of the energy her mother so angrily hates. Seven years old, maybe eight, and a natural space cadet; staring off into space, witnessing the stars and planets orbit the galaxy around her. A lone astronaut, tethered to the homeship but the airlock is broken, and her crew can’t be bothered to fix it. Drifting further away from everything she knows; the stars brighten her hope for the future. She hasn’t quite come to terms yet with the fact that she’ll be stuck in oblivion forever; her hope is that others will save her. Locking eyes through layers of windows I manage to see right through her helmet and like everyone else I see my reflection; except it’s still her. As large and vast as the universe is I was able to stray far enough to find another stranded astronaut. Just like me, she sees right through the reflective material and witnesses what she might become. The broken cord attached to my suit scares her, for she knows one day she’ll have to cut hers. I remember when I had that fear but the relief of being free made it all worth it. Four seconds total and we knew everything about one another. We’re both just stranded astronauts afterall. Even infinity has no room for individuality.

#writing #poems #creative writing #writeblr #poetry #writematic #prose poetry #prose #prose poem

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liminal

Gas stations. But the off-brand, run-down, days from bankruptcy kind. They’re perfect. The broken lights make it hard to read the price on anything, forcing you to squint until you involuntarily cry from the effort. Flickering in the bathroom in sync with your now racing heart as you wash your hands reminding yourself the person in the mirror is just you. The creepy guy behind the counter who’s desperately trying to imagine what you’re wearing beneath your jacket making you subconsciously pull it tighter around yourself like a goodbye hug. The smell of cigarette smoke and gasoline mixing in the air and pumping helium into your head, your brain floating up over the tiny shelves and right out the door. Longing to join the stars it bursts on a powerline, lighting up the sky and fulfilling its wish. Your body, a host without its parasite, stumbles about waiting for someone else to take control. Humming along with the crappy pop song barely audible in the background, taking your time in every aisle allowing yourself to just exist despite your fictitious truth. Gas stations. But the off-brand, run-down, days from bankruptcy kind. They’re home.

#writeblr #creative writing #poetry #writing #poems #writematic #prose poem #prose #prose poetry

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newspaper blackout poem

Safer than yesterday;

But

We grow up

Facing threats

We never considered

Before

“Safer, stronger, wiser”

The reality:

Not enough.

Attacks on unity and purpose,

“I don’t think we can be safe”

#writeblr #creative writing #poetry #writing #poems #writematic #prose #prose poem #prose poetry

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Judge My Diction, Not My Grammer

(my completed prose piece from multiple drafts i previously made)

Driving down the road only guessing how many you’ve been down. From Brooklyn to Montague; you’ll travel the world one day. Just me for miles: safe and content. The tiny volume dial spinning back and forth between my fingers getting more and more elated with every increase, the feel of the pedals beneath me, finally in control of something for once in my life. Stray coins fill the console thrashing about at every sharp turn without any damage at all. One day they’ll fall onto the floor, and never be found again. Lost under the seats like childhood dreams, I took too fast a turn to keep them safe. The car needs me as much as I need it. Without the other we’ll both just sit and rust away in some junkyard, but instead we arrive at my favorite place in the world. Gas stations. But the off-brand, run-down, days from bankruptcy kind. They’re perfect.

The broken lights make it hard to read the price on anything, forcing you to squint until you involuntarily cry from the effort. Flickering lights in the bathroom in sync with your now racing heart as you wash your hands reminding yourself the person in the mirror is just you . The creepy guy behind the counter who’s desperately trying to imagine what you’re wearing beneath your jacket making you subconsciously pull it tighter around yourself like a goodbye hug. Bittersweet and lingering for days. The smell of cigarette smoke and gasoline mixing in the air and pumping helium into your head, your brain floating up over the tiny shelves and right out the door. Longing to join the stars it bursts on a powerline, lighting up the sky and fulfilling its wish. Your body, a host without its parasite, stumbles about waiting for someone else to take control. Humming along with the crappy pop song barely audible in the background, taking your time in every aisle allowing yourself to just exist despite your fictitious truth. Gas stations. But the off-brand, run-down, days from bankruptcy kind. They’re home. 

As home as I’ll get in this body and brain of mine. With my ribs sticking out, begging for God to make me a companion, I breathe out giving life to the trees that surround me. Swaying in my breath they filter light from above casting a halo above my covetous head - my first sin. The apples of my eye float mockingly high, shining that shade of red that makes you feel warm and re-ignites the butterflies within your stomach. Beetles and spiders and wasps crawl around through mine, clicking and popping to scare off predators - am I not enough to protect you? With my twiggy arms squeezing tight around my core and giving life to the branches you reside on? I know there’s knicks and scratches and dents, but I thought you’d like them. I’m sorry I don’t know what you want. My brain is but a rock; dense and heavily within my skull. The cracks that wrap around have taken only moments to spawn, but now, years later, flowers sprout from the darkness. My heart is more a leaf than anything else. Jolting from side to side following the wind, even when they disagree. Rips line the edges making the original outline cryptic - the tree she came from I’ll never know. Frequently flooding Eden in my sorrows I make fruitless attempts to build protective dams around the garden. Waterfalls run down my face from the caves that are pretty only at a glance; the more you observe the worse a place they seem to be. Absorbed by the seeds of my skin; one day flowers will ornate my body turning me into the garden I know I am. Until then I’m just a spot in the forest, isolated and esoteric, praying for it all to burn down.

A charred ghost town sits lonely in my skull. The once excited inhabitants are long gone and scared to come back. I don’t remember when but the power plant exploded and all that’s left is mother nature. Evacuated, the citizens made home somewhere else. It’ll never be the same, but at least there’s a roof over their heads. And crime in the streets, corruption in politics, death in hospitals, and constant crying in schools.Where my hope went I don’t know, but in place of pride lies an alley located between my confidence and sorrow. Dim and putrid with noises of feral cats and unsteady dumpsters. The sidewalk in front is cracked and crumbing, callous to the weary feet that tremble past. The small pop-up shop that is my confidence has only a few items left in stock. The owner seems to always be in the back; leaving customers at the register long enough for them to give up and go somewhere else. How pretty the decor is, beautiful paintings and sculptures that no one cares to admire. To the left, a skyscraper reaching for the stars hoping to become one. The multitude of floors and departments and workers and management inside is as heavy as the steel and concrete used to create their home away from home. What makes this building so terrifying is that the farther you go up the more you can see. Except the building is so high it pokes out through the clouds and at a certain point all you can see is a white blanket of faux snow calling for you to become an angel. I’ve been to the top a few times and as ethereal as it was, nothing was more comforting than racing down the abundance of stairs and straight out the door. The air is not nearly as fresh down here but at least I’m not light-headed anymore. The cartography of my soul is still mostly undiscovered. I hope I can create the full map someday; maybe then I’ll know who I am. Maybe then I’ll be able to tell you who I am.

People try so hard to figure out what I am; but I don’t know. Listening to me talk about things that seem to spike my interest as my eyes stay dull and unfeeling. All I do is drone on and on while thinking over and over ¨be present, be present, be present¨. But I can’t: I’m preoccupied. Constantly aware of the fact that this isn’t who I want to be. Younger me would be so disappointed and it kills me to know I let her down. I was all she had and now, she has nothing. I could’ve been so much but instead I’m just hollow. Not empty or void or missing some important piece of me; I’m just hollow. There’s nothing inside me - yes - but nothing was ever meant to be. The cavity in my chest is not meant to hold a heart, but to allow birds to perch on my ribs and sing songs that echo throughout my body when they so please. I’m open to the world, yet hidden from society.

#writeblr #poetry #writing #poems #creative writing #writematic #prose poetry #prose poem #prose

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white noise

Watching them walk in together you’d assume it’s a simple father-daughter outing. You wouldn’t dare guess that she’s his girlfriend. She’s uncomfortably younger than him, I’m talking 20 years minimum. This dude is probably older than her father. He seems normal - and that’s the worst part. Most likely has a well-paying 9-5 that he’s soon to get promoted in and a simple but durable car he’s had forever. He seems normal until you add the high school girlfriend. She’s average; decent looks, consistent grades, friendly with all. Never first place or last. She’s living a simple life and he manages to make it more fun. The world is in grayscale to her and he’s a rainbow. But she’s not the first, she won’t even be the last. Girls stay with him the way seasons stay with New York. By the time the trees have gained all their leaves back the girls have aged enough to know what’s really happening. 

#writeblr #creative writing #poetry #writing #tw sa #vent poetry #writematic #prose poetry #prose #tw grooming #tw vent #vent piece

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you were my first kiss

and you took it

with hunger and lust.

you never gave me any

kisses, only took them.

you can feel someone smile

while you kiss them; i was so 

excited when i learned this

that i smiled every time.

but you never did.

i was not important enough

to experience those little joys with

#writeblr #creative writing #poetry #writing #poems #vent poetry #tw sa #writematic

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12/7/17

When my grandmother died, I wasn’t allowed at the funeral

My mother told me to stay in the bathroom - out of the way

But I waited outside, sobbing on the curb instead

I could hear my relatives’ cries of despair 

as it's finally setting in that she’s gone, really gone

I can’t be in the room with them 

but I grieve all the same,

my pain they refuse to see

Inside; my family mourned 

Outside; I smoked my first cigarette

I wonder if they heard my cries too

#creative writing #poetry #writing #poems #writeblr #vent poetry #healing #writematic #tw death #tw funeral

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stuck in my own cobweb

I sit in class

collecting dust

as everyone looks

past me. I am the

small spider, living

in the unknown

cracks of your wall;

watching,

listening,

observing

#writeblr #creative writing #poetry #writing #poems #writematic #prose poetry #prose poem #prose

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Mind Palace (v. 1)

In place of pride lays an alley located between my confidence and sorrow. Dim and putrid with noises of feral cats and unsteady dumpsters. The sidewalk in front is cracked and crumbing, callous to the weary feet that tremble past. The small pop-up shop that is my confidence has only a few items left in stock. The owner seems to always be in the back; leaving customers at the register long enough for them to give up and go somewhere else. How pretty the decor is, beautiful paintings and sculptures that no one cares to admire. To the left, a skyscraper reaching for the stars hoping to become one. The multitude of floors and departments and workers and management inside is as heavy as the steel and concrete used to create their home away from home. What makes this building so terrifying is that the farther you go up the more you can see. Except the building is so high it pokes out through the clouds and at a certain point all you can see is a white blanket of faux snow calling for you to become an angel. I’ve been to the top a few times and as ethereal as it was, nothing was more comforting than racing down the abundance of stairs and straight out the door. The air is not nearly as fresh down here but at least I’m not light-headed anymore. The cartography of my soul is still mostly undiscovered. I hope I can create the full map someday; maybe then I’ll know who I am.

#creative writing #writeblr #poetry #writing #poems #prose #prose poem #prose poetry #writematic

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drowning

Water. Cold and salty, it invades the tightly sealed wall of your eyelids adding a burn to your chilling death. Rushing in and out and in and out and in and out of your lungs forcing oxygen to stay away from your convulsing frame. As you beg, plead, and pray for help, an evil deity mauls you like some lethargic, worn-out doll being tossed to a needy child.

#writeblr #creative writing #poetry #writing #poems #writematic

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The smell of the orange reminded me of triangles. The sharp pointy edges, leaking with citrus. Geometry and proofs, having to explain why the triangle is a triangle when it smells of orange juice and nothing more. Stacks of papers with homework and assignments printed in monotone with splashes of orange all throughout like the little perfume pages in magazines. The taste of the orange reminded me of my friend. The way his voice has a tangy infliction on vowels. The peel grinds between my teeth like his words trying to sink into my mind. Late night conversations about seemingly nothing with an orange slice in my mouth like a smile.

#draft #prompt #writeblr #creative writing #poetry #writing #poems #synesthesia #writematic

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it can't be

The anti-social festivities indulged in this classroom; I observe tentatively, aware that it would be impossible to join. The boy. A thing. Not pure, It can’t be pure: it’s unhappy. It’s I, the boy

#writeblr #creative writing #poetry #writing #poems #vent poetry #blackout poetry #writematic

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small haiku collection

premature

Trusting you was like

standing on a block of loose

cement - sinking strong

foster house

sleeping soundly through

the night with no monsters

in my bed, dreaming

fresh start

rotting flowers in

the garden, seeds scattered by

the wind. spring's begun

insomnia

no matter how much

i sleep, it's never enough

rest: a distant love

nomadic

how can i plant my

roots if my life is to be

spent free in the wind

unnamed

My soul is but a

flame And my mind is racing

to extinguish it

unnamed

music is a porch

light left on in your mind, safe

within the darkness

cyborg

my graphics card breaks

down, unable to render

the tiniest image

unnamed

It's more pity than

preservation to love you

when no one else will

#writeblr #creative writing #poetry #writing #poems #haiku #shitty haiku #micropoetry #writematic

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NO HAIR, DON'T CARE artfight, 2022

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page i made for my friend's zine about transness! my animal self...