Mirakee
on my way to noon deploration
i'm an abandoned well - not capped
so i bear casualties - an open invitation for disasters mental-made
i'm all sad metaphors personified
i left home yesterday
to feel a little better
but i think i hate this new place too
©art_is_dead
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its january already
its january morning with fog-ridden trees and food-gone-cold - i don't keep up with my blocked-nose and cold-feet - its already day-half-gone-but-don't-know-how and i'll probably never get used to it
i walk slower with every task i keep re-writing on my to-do-list
my calories burn on hating myself
its january already - it's january with its freezing-nights and sadness-overwhelming
©art_is_dead -
i've broken myself into pieces too often and i'm trying to find a way to stop
too often i feel the need to pull myself apart and taste the hurt and the sad and the hate bleeding out
into each other and become gross and unsightly so i would know what the insides of my body harbor
i struggle to keep up with this need to break myself down for every time i step on a dirt puddle and
i hate the rain and i will pray for it so i can run to it and blame it for my soggy brains that spill out too much too quickly because
i won't let my mouth spit out the words instead
i sing myself to sleep with words i could never say and i keep wishing you'd notice -
i hate singing and i hate the sound of my voice but when i'm lying down so close to you i hate that i feel so sad
and it's not your fault
i associate familiar with family and i seem to recognize sad ideas in every thing there is and
i take that sadness and i hold on to it because it's the only thing my soggy brain does not throw out
but that does not stop me from holding onto other things
and my brain from throwing them out again and again and i still keep holding on again and again and i will keep doing it -
i will make myself write about pretty flowers some day and how much i love them.
©art_is_dead -
can i mourn for myself?
i cry at the smallest inconvenience - i know it doesn't matter a fuck but i will kill myself over and over in my head - i'd make everyone un-necessarily sad if i actually killed myself
my younger self wanted a pretty death
but all i can give her is a pretty flower
i'm stupid and dumb and so ungrateful - everyone is actually nice to me
i dream and i want and i wish
but i don't know a shit about living
i hate that i make everything fuckin complicated - i fuckin hate myself
©art_is_dead -
art_is_dead
8w
Read Morerewrote an old piece im happy uwu
#tumblr #growingup #sad #hope #wishful #life #mirakee #writersbayour bodies remain mortal but we do not
it's 3 pm and we're already crying - we're too tired to wait for the night so we let it out wherever we can - in college lawns with people everywhere and in restrooms of restaurants we've never been to before and in changing-rooms with way too many people waiting outside - we're so young and we already hate ourselves so much - we're too afraid to grow any older - our bodies ache so much already
we don't admit it often but we were holy once - we could still be
but we choose to fall instead - we choose to hurt and be hurt
our bodies are so numb and we're still running and running and running - they never taught us how to stop
we're drowning and we don't how to swim - no one's coming to save us but we really want to live -
so we learn to yell poems into our heads and we learn to scratch art onto our bodies and we learn to make them listen -
we learn to live and we cry and we vomit out last night's pain
we learn to make ourselves walk the streets alone but we are still so scared of the dark so we hold our own hands and we cry again and we are so loud - they do not hear us
we do not want to learn anymore - instead we try to remember what being holy felt like - we try to remember what being close to god felt like - what being close to ourselves felt like - but we do not -
we've fallen and we've hurt and we've been hurt
too many times now -
we now live but we forget and we live again and we forget again - we repeat the same days over and over and over again just to sell ourselves to people who've never once been kind -
we take up parts of ourselves and dip it in cold water - we want to wake up awake but we're so used to strangling ourselves to sleep
so we only sleepwalk
we're so scared of holding hands - we don't want to break them too
we look at ourselves on dirty mirrors and cracked windows - we sigh more than we breathe - we walk slower some days - we just take deep breaths on the others -
and some time between those, we like to wonder if some day we could return back to heaven
©art_is_dead -
©art_is_dead
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cry
cry
©art_is_dead -
poetry helps
me cope so this
is definitely
not pretty
©art_is_dead -
Dandelions
Dandelions
©art_is_dead -
art_is_dead
9w
Read More
it's just 3 pm and we're already crying - we're too tired to wait for the night - we let it out wherever we can - in college lawns with people everywhere and in restrooms of restaurants we've never been to before and in changing-rooms with way too many people waiting outside - we're so young and we already hate ourselves so much - we're too afraid to grow any older - our bodies ache so much already
we were promised so many things
and we're still promised so many more - it's miserable and it's so pathetic and we still listen
our bodies are numb and we're still running - they never taught us how to stop
we're drowning and we don't know how to swim - no one's coming to save us but we really want to live -
so we learn to yell poems in our heads and we learn to scratch art on our bodies and we learn to make them listen to us - we learn to live and we are crying still and we learn to walk the streets alone and we are holding hands still and we learn to sleep without a body next to us and we need people to hug us still and we learn to grow up and we need to believe in fairytales still
we learn from other people and we learn from ourselves - we break us down and then we build us up - we are too holy and then we are falling - we laugh and we make them laugh and then we cry -
our bodies know pain and we hurt
our bodies remain mortal
but we do not - we are too loud for our own good.
#tumblr #sad #life #growingup #hopewe bleed and then we heal
©art_is_dead
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branthan
8w
Read Moreyou feel out of place
out of tune
as if you've fallen through the
wrong cracks to end up in a home
that belongs to someone else.
like a word that doesn't quite rhyme;
but sits in the middle of a story that
everyone skips to read the ending.
misplaced by a writer who was in a rush.
a little lonely in the crowded room
a little claustrophobic in an empty one
you feel out of place.
the fan creaks from the ceiling
as the sun burns through the summer days.
you miss the rain, not the kinda one every poet
romanticize about these days.
but the wild ones that they don't write about,
the ones that drown the empty streets
with the heavy falls, the ones that
drown you to the depths.
you miss the chaos.
days are poignant,
you stare at the crossroads that lead
to more crossroads in a sadistic loop.
you feel out of place
like a mouse that runs through a maze.
all the songs that made sense once
don't feel the same anymore.
so, you press next till you fall asleep.
like love, you feel out of tune.
maybe it's certain words that
everyone ever cared about.
never about the one that died in between.
the one that never belonged.
@writersnetwork.
