Grid View
List View
Reposts
  • art_is_dead 1w

    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

  • art_is_dead 6w

    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

  • art_is_dead 7w

    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

  • art_is_dead 8w

    shit poetry #tumblr

    Read More

    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

    our 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 8w

    ©art_is_dead

  • art_is_dead 8w

    cry

    cry
    ©art_is_dead

  • art_is_dead 9w

    poetry helps
    me cope so this
    is definitely
    not pretty


    ©art_is_dead

  • art_is_dead 9w

    Dandelions

    Dandelions
    ©art_is_dead

  • art_is_dead 9w

    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 #hope

    Read More

    we bleed and then we heal

    ©art_is_dead