Change is coming by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
Change is coming
Some would laugh
when I say that my temperament has softened,
knowing that snide remarks
are ooze below my tongue.
Yet my pages are resting,
readying for a tumult that will never come.
The once mercurial tinder is now ash
And charcoal
From which I may forge a new pen.
I’m awake.
My anxiety is peaking with the moon.
Summoned by a red waterfall
Or perhaps simply because
I’m awake.
The darkness of slumber placates a scattered mind.
In sleep, I am elsewhere-
Unable to gather and tend disparate fears.
I yearn for it.
There is safety in limbo.
I write less with age,
As the cage for my anxiety strengthens.
It need not bathe in daylight.
Not while I am sleeping.
But I am awake.
Because You Left Me by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
Because You Left Me
I’d rather be caught in the tar pits of inconvenient love than to move on. But only if you are here with me, and I am plagued with fears that you are not. I still think you re the most beautiful boy I have brushed with my lips and I try to conjure you when my eyes are closed and my blanket wraps me as you used to. Most days, it is easy not to dwell. The distractions pop up on phone screens and tap my shoulder, but when they don’t, I can’t escape you. It is so painful to yearn, to imagine a new you without me, built and fortified in my absence with someone else’s love. Four years is so long, love. But moving on from you
The asphalt wasn’t sweating like this the last time
we made love.
I folded over you like a money clip, pinning you
between my torso and thighs
and you said not to worry-
that I would see you again.
He was lonely the last time
you and I made love.
But now he is cared for and falling quickly,
while I am slow. A feather in a tornado.
A victim of my own volatility.
You were twice in love the last time
we made love:
Old and new. I wonder if you are still dissonant
or if time has forgiven you with a generosity
I have been denied.
I dream of the next time
we make love.
Do you?
We fell so quickly, so deeply, irreparably in love
Couldn’t breathe, incomplete, forgot how to be one
Infatuated in fuck, we were brazen in lust
A pair of hedons, weakened, sticky in summer months
We gave friendship our best, but we fell back in bed
Like magnets, bad habits, you’re stuck in my head
You’re my glue, I’m you, with or without you I’m wrecked
We could try for a third time. I’ll just miss you instead
I found you, I lost you, but I haven’t recovered
My heart is still broken, the flames only smothered
They’ll burn both of us down if we give them a chance
But I’m already scorched
A Lair and A Thief by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
A Lair and A Thief
Parts of my body are melted into your chest
Melted into my bed
Hardened in the caverns we have left from lazy mornings
My peace of mind is locked in your rib cage
And I am calmed as you step closer, it is brought to me
As I am enveloped
As I am held.
The squeakiness of my mind, the loose wheel spinning in circles
Crying for grease-
It runs to you for tenderness when I am trapped beneath it
And I can breathe
But you have taken my peace of mind with you
On a new adventure
Because I told you to go.
A liar cannot be trusted.
I don’t want to think of you
Reborn in your innocence and ripe for destruction.
I, a wrecking ball in your chapel.
You have forgotten me,
Resurrected a shattered icon and rebuilt a collapsing column.
Pure, again, in my wake.
Return to your genesis,
How I found you- enslaved to an impute ignominy.
And I will lust from my prison,
A sinner-condemned.
I can't forget you by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
I can't forget you
Viscous and noxious, like spoiled honey/
Hibernating between synapses/ waking only to the sound of clattering/
Stability tumbles from once anchored shelves.
Coat me in rancid fantasies/
Bloated and putrefied imaginings that have turned/ sour.
Sweet in their decay/ they are toxic.
Only the keyboard knows I am broken,
Returning with impatient fingers and heavy eyelids,
I tell it my sorrows
When others will not listen.
It is constant in its curiosity-
A canvas for trouble,
A sheet for shrill notes
And vulgar lyrics.
I wonder, at times,
If I am capable of filling an empty page.
I wonder, at times,
If anyone will bother to listen.
And here in my insecurity lies a coward,
Afraid of her own process,
Unwilling to document her own tragedy
To an ever-willing audience.
A little drunk, A little pessimisitic by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
A little drunk, A little pessimisitic
I got my diploma
They said “you can go”
All the parents applauded
Now you will or you won’t.
Life is uncertain,
But I am full grown,
Now, they still listen,
But they don’t seem to know.
I have the same problems
The same questions, I ask
But now they’re uncertain
Wavering, cracked.
My path is unclear,
I meander and turn.
With no path to guide me,
I stumble and swerve.
They ask the same questions
“will you or won’t you?”
I’m two years adult-ed
I’ve got the diploma to show you.
But I stumble and fall,
Uncertain as ever-
Hoping someone will guide me
Or I’ll find o
Change is coming by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
Change is coming
Some would laugh
when I say that my temperament has softened,
knowing that snide remarks
are ooze below my tongue.
Yet my pages are resting,
readying for a tumult that will never come.
The once mercurial tinder is now ash
And charcoal
From which I may forge a new pen.
I’m awake.
My anxiety is peaking with the moon.
Summoned by a red waterfall
Or perhaps simply because
I’m awake.
The darkness of slumber placates a scattered mind.
In sleep, I am elsewhere-
Unable to gather and tend disparate fears.
I yearn for it.
There is safety in limbo.
I write less with age,
As the cage for my anxiety strengthens.
It need not bathe in daylight.
Not while I am sleeping.
But I am awake.
Because You Left Me by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
Because You Left Me
I’d rather be caught in the tar pits of inconvenient love than to move on. But only if you are here with me, and I am plagued with fears that you are not. I still think you re the most beautiful boy I have brushed with my lips and I try to conjure you when my eyes are closed and my blanket wraps me as you used to. Most days, it is easy not to dwell. The distractions pop up on phone screens and tap my shoulder, but when they don’t, I can’t escape you. It is so painful to yearn, to imagine a new you without me, built and fortified in my absence with someone else’s love. Four years is so long, love. But moving on from you
The asphalt wasn’t sweating like this the last time
we made love.
I folded over you like a money clip, pinning you
between my torso and thighs
and you said not to worry-
that I would see you again.
He was lonely the last time
you and I made love.
But now he is cared for and falling quickly,
while I am slow. A feather in a tornado.
A victim of my own volatility.
You were twice in love the last time
we made love:
Old and new. I wonder if you are still dissonant
or if time has forgiven you with a generosity
I have been denied.
I dream of the next time
we make love.
Do you?
We fell so quickly, so deeply, irreparably in love
Couldn’t breathe, incomplete, forgot how to be one
Infatuated in fuck, we were brazen in lust
A pair of hedons, weakened, sticky in summer months
We gave friendship our best, but we fell back in bed
Like magnets, bad habits, you’re stuck in my head
You’re my glue, I’m you, with or without you I’m wrecked
We could try for a third time. I’ll just miss you instead
I found you, I lost you, but I haven’t recovered
My heart is still broken, the flames only smothered
They’ll burn both of us down if we give them a chance
But I’m already scorched
A Lair and A Thief by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
A Lair and A Thief
Parts of my body are melted into your chest
Melted into my bed
Hardened in the caverns we have left from lazy mornings
My peace of mind is locked in your rib cage
And I am calmed as you step closer, it is brought to me
As I am enveloped
As I am held.
The squeakiness of my mind, the loose wheel spinning in circles
Crying for grease-
It runs to you for tenderness when I am trapped beneath it
And I can breathe
But you have taken my peace of mind with you
On a new adventure
Because I told you to go.
A liar cannot be trusted.
I don’t want to think of you
Reborn in your innocence and ripe for destruction.
I, a wrecking ball in your chapel.
You have forgotten me,
Resurrected a shattered icon and rebuilt a collapsing column.
Pure, again, in my wake.
Return to your genesis,
How I found you- enslaved to an impute ignominy.
And I will lust from my prison,
A sinner-condemned.
I can't forget you by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
I can't forget you
Viscous and noxious, like spoiled honey/
Hibernating between synapses/ waking only to the sound of clattering/
Stability tumbles from once anchored shelves.
Coat me in rancid fantasies/
Bloated and putrefied imaginings that have turned/ sour.
Sweet in their decay/ they are toxic.
Only the keyboard knows I am broken,
Returning with impatient fingers and heavy eyelids,
I tell it my sorrows
When others will not listen.
It is constant in its curiosity-
A canvas for trouble,
A sheet for shrill notes
And vulgar lyrics.
I wonder, at times,
If I am capable of filling an empty page.
I wonder, at times,
If anyone will bother to listen.
And here in my insecurity lies a coward,
Afraid of her own process,
Unwilling to document her own tragedy
To an ever-willing audience.
A little drunk, A little pessimisitic by suicidally-beautiful, literature
Literature
A little drunk, A little pessimisitic
I got my diploma
They said “you can go”
All the parents applauded
Now you will or you won’t.
Life is uncertain,
But I am full grown,
Now, they still listen,
But they don’t seem to know.
I have the same problems
The same questions, I ask
But now they’re uncertain
Wavering, cracked.
My path is unclear,
I meander and turn.
With no path to guide me,
I stumble and swerve.
They ask the same questions
“will you or won’t you?”
I’m two years adult-ed
I’ve got the diploma to show you.
But I stumble and fall,
Uncertain as ever-
Hoping someone will guide me
Or I’ll find o
Touch back down to earth
where everything smells of gunpowder and sour milk
where cannons shoot clouds from their thrones and they tumble,
sputter, stall, like airplanes whose engines yearn to burn like the stars above them
Don't wait for the beaches to give way to ocean depths,
covered in seaweed and the moans of salt-water-bellied giants that have been trapped beneath the staircase
we can't fit our tongues in our mouths any longer;
they stretch into mountain paths,
redwood trees sprouting from a filthy forest floor-
bursting with life and crude insinuation
I've been corked-
dr
From your absence, I’ve crafted a weapon. Scathing and unyielding, held by a true masochist. “He left you.” “He didn’t want you.” “You were only happy in his arms,” as I pace through the internet searching for morsels of you. I collect the crumbs from trash cans and archives, Storing them for the next lonely winter when I’ll need to be reminded of home I once made in you. For now, in a solitude of my own making, I choose to stagnate. Holding on to an untethered buoy Instead of swimming to shore. Please, can we just please get to shore?