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flowerandpoison · a day ago
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"I'm okay" I said with a smile on my face and a scar on my heart.
— Rishi
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aretherestarsinhell · a day ago
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“i am hard to love.
that, i have always known
but you climbed the barbed wire fences that guarded my heart
and said you were here to stay
i believed you;
that was my mistake
i guess i scared you away;
i was too much for you,
or not enough,
or somewhere in between
but regardless,
the ending remains the same
i am here,
with my lonely, wounded heart
and the shattered remains of every empty promise you made.”
-i am hard to love, but you were easy to lose. c.r.
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g07h1994 · a day ago
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Universe Powder 🖤
Fuente : Facebok
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deadpoet-skull · 2 days ago
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you burned me and i stayed silent. it was the first time i didnt scream while fire was touching my skin.
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feytouched · 2 days ago
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decay: the creative prompt for november at the the orangery literary society 🦷
white milk / strawberry syrup (excerpt) by @mothprincess / natura morta (detail), gentl & hyers / what counts as suicide (excerpt) by @bies-from-wildland / food bank, peter lippmann / wormwood (excerpt) by ieva dapkevicius (@feytouched) / decaying skeletons, caitlyn mccormack / mesocricetus auratus: an elegy (excerpt) by @sealavender / don't let your body fall onto the bathroom floor by @girlcrucified
transcripts & image descriptions below.
[ID: a compilation of poems interspersed with pictures of visual artworks on the theme of decay.
1. poem excerpt: "last time i saw her was when i was freshly eleven / & i blew out the last candle on the funfetti cake. // it was before her flesh melted down like chocolate ganache / & flowers pirouetted through her carousel ribs."
2. photograph of a decaying bouquet of various flowers, their petals browning and wilting, cast in deep shadows against a dark background.
3. poem excerpt: "years later / i put the shards into a frame / autumnal branches of yet to be dead trees / and with every fractured painting / i commemorate lost lives"
4. still life painting of various rotten and spoilt food items on a table with an off-white tablecloth, against a darker wall: wrinkled apples in a plate, mouldering cheese, stray husks and stems littered around; a tall bowl with grapes and other fruits, a bottle of curdled milk, bread gone green, and pomegranates, figs, and quince in various states of decay.
5. poem excerpt: "And still the seething star / plummets, melting its shadows/ in hottest shades of blue, and hides / itself in the root cellar of the world: / amid blood-black beetroots, clotted mold / and turnips swelling like tumors, / there it rots forgotten, / and if it still wails its siren song, it is as good / as silent when there is no one left to listen."
6. crocheted skeletons of winged animals in delicate, lace-like white thread laid on a black surface.
7. poem excerpt: "Another eternity broken; my grief was broken down / in the gizzard of an earthworm, and my guilt bloomed / with drooping head and winter petals, and beneath the / soles of my feet, forgiveness speaks, waiting for me / to listen."
8. collage containing a poem excerpt: a cutout of a feminine figure with short hair lying on their side, eyes closed, wearing warm-toned clothing; cutouts of black and white eyes and star doodles surround it, against a white background. below, surrounded by more eye cutouts and a vulture, the following text: "Don't let your body fall onto the bathroom floor. Don't let your body decay on the bathroom floor. Don't let the vultures hover over your decaying body on the bathroom floor. Don't let the vultures eat your already decaying body on the bathroom floor. Do not let it. Let it. No. Do not let it. What? Do not let the vultures. Do not let your body. No. Let your body. Leave your body alone."
/end ID]
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secretlywanderlust · 2 days ago
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An apology to my notebook: "I’m sorry I haven’t seen you in a while, it’s just that I’ve finally been happy. You know I only tend to visit you when I’m feeling down. I’ve found someone who cares for me and loves me. He’s all I’ve ever dreamed about. Maybe I’ll start writing about the good things, but you know that I like to keep those for myself. I hope you’re happy for me."
Excerpt from a book I’ll never write, 122 “An apology to my notebook”
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victormalonso · a day ago
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a tus ojos | víctor m. alonso
[el cielo insomne de tus ojos, que son la redondez irregular del orbe, el cielo indecible del infinito, que se tiñe de noche y se tiñe de tu boca, y se tiñe de ti]
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candle · 2 days ago
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— Landscape with Fate in the Wreckage, Tara Fae
[ID: image reads:
“Landscape with Fate in the Wreckage
landscape of the road changed forever.
only so much light one person can take.
the summer, and the burning. found god
in the highway mirage, then tasted asphalt.
this, too, has lines which, when crossed, signify
closure. gravel underneath skin.
grazes don’t fade in memory. memory that fades
awaits recognition, even when it turns to fiction.
at what point does memory become fiction? what line is there?
no lines, just grazes. highway mirage,
just a mirage. no god to be found in asphalt.
only so much light before it becomes burning.
fire has no colour, just heat.
still, fire is red. another fiction.
at the heart of the flame there is shadow.
at the heart of the fire there is burning. only so much
light one can take. landscape changed forever.
another fiction.
landscape changed until you blink.
landscape changed until you blink.
wreck on the road until someone takes it away.
this, too, has lines which, when crossed, stain.
sun in the sky until we turn slightly too far.
flames in the sky until there aren’t.
sky, fiction anyway.
corpse on the road until it isn’t.
this, too, has lines which, when crossed,
fade altogether.
sun in the sky until we turn away.
flowers by the highway mirage. a cross without faith.
asphalt in the mouth until there is no mouth.
god in the mirage until the fiction fades.
god on the ground until the fiction fades.
god in the wreckage until the fiction
fades.” END ID]
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"Lo más hermoso que nos puede suceder por la vida, es cuando se aferra un sentimiento que se ama. Los sentimientos siempre estarán ahí, sólo hay que aferrarlos"
—  Juan Francisco Palencia.    
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deadpoet-skull · 3 hours ago
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at school: when i go home i get done all the work i procrastinated
once home: sike
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avolitorial · a day ago
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out on the water, the stars burn. walk out under their warm and dying light and cast your line with me as a hymn into the deep. sing to me a prayer as open as the water: holiness that doesn’t ask me to pry apart the clasped black shell to get the sacred meat between my teeth.
the wooden dock is washed gray by time and air, and each pebble on the shoreline whispers quiet wonder as it slips under your step, then settles. beloved, i want to build you a boat. i want carve a cradle from moonlight to carry you home, saltwind turned lullaby in my mouth. let the sea be a wild thing and my hands full of the same restlessness. we, like the angels, are warm and dying and made of light.
a.s.w. || @avolitorial || nameday poem for lia @ragewrites
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