self care

take care of yourself, honey. scream into a mirror. kick down all the doors. throw your pillow at the wall and cry for people that have never fucking been yours.  think about death and fate, and try to find a story in it all. boil it to pulp, and pick out the seeds. take a break and go insane, your mind spinning like static electricity. work yourself to death, and imagine you’re just like sleeping beauty. start a journal, take up sewing! almost lose it on the phone, about things that happened years ago. clench your jaw and bite your lips. bottle up until your back is sore. it’s all right, you’ll figure it out eventually. read through old journals, and try to meet the pictures in the eye. snap and scream it all out, but only in your mind. with every word beg for compromise, and closure, homesickness swirling in your gut. maybe i’ll never muster up the courage to leave this town. i don’t know how much more of this i can take. i’ll start drinking decaf! write a poem about rage! you’ll be over it soon, don’t worry. this is just another phase.

I’ve been having one of those weeks where no one thing in my life has actually been going especially terrible–actually, a lot of things are going really well. But there are enough things that are about a 5 or 6 on the frustration scale, and I am terrible enough at actually expressing my anger in any productive way that might lead to solving the issue that it has just been… kind of building up until I am just ready to snap. There’s nothing I can do about any of these situations that are driving me crazy; I’m in the position of having no other real choice than to deal with some BS, and suck it up for the next little while until these mostly fleeting issues pass, because getting angry is just going to make it harder to deal with, and in the logical part of my brain, I know this. I just have to wait it out. (Also, I’m terrified of conflict, which doesn’t help–but really, all of my problems right now are very much out of my control.) So yeah. Sigh.


i am walking through a skeleton of poetry

that once meant the world to me

but the words are smushed on salt-stained cheeks

the words whisper through my heart

oh my god, i can’t breathe

i am walking through a skeleton

i am watching you leave

for new heights and new things

half-finished promises

you might not ever keep

i am tripping over femurs and tibia too

i don’t know what creatures used to walk this place

but i hope they left too

i hope their dreams cannot be shared within the space of my hands

i hope their days are full

i hope they get that promotion

i hope they keep the door closed

i hope they let me down gently, and i won’t let them know

that i’m sobbing on the floor

such a mess i can’t drive home

i am walking through the ashes of a world i used to know

the motivational posters and the self-help books

all the things i used to believe in, right down to my soul

it’s dull, and barren on my tongue

it’s all so fucking cold

but i’ll be fine, i’ll be fine

i’ll figure it out between 9-3:30, wednesdays

i’ll pay the long distance

holding my phone like a vice

i’ll play the music loud and take up journalling

i will talk while you still listen

i will try my best not to waste your time

when i kiss you goodnight

i’m walking through a skeleton of things that could have been

feel them well up in my chest and pool on my tongue

taste the salt breeze

i want to fold up my opinions like laundry on the bed

i want to sleep for the rest of eternity

A bit of a vent poem. Growing up is rough, sometimes. This isn’t about any one specific thing, so much as the general chaos that has been my life. I’m not really great at people to be honest, and I’m even worse at goodbyes.


i have grown tired, of trying to prove you wrong. when you are grey and oppressive, your hands bearing down on my shoulders like a fog. i have grown tired of being right, and tired of being wrong. tired of screaming, and crying, and taking deep breaths to calm down. trying to justify the stars in the sky, or the freckles on my chin. i have grown tired of being sweet, and empathetic, and all the things i pride myself on; worn down all bloody. until there’s just centrifugal force left to hold me together, honestly. maybe i just need to be alone. and hit my pillow, again and again. because it doesn’t make sense, and nothing makes sense. so i fill my brain with knowledge, but it slips like a sieve. have you ever tried to cup water in your hands? i think you have to see to believe. and i can feel the sharp words, sinking like thorns in my tongue. but if you ask, i’ve still got nothing to say.


Copy thunder(2)

trigger warning: self-harm mention

i want to scream and / i want to break things  and / i want to see the look on your face when you realize i don’t care in this moment because my mind is a graveyard and the trees will shatter in the wind and the pavement will crumple and after this storm there’ll be nothing left inside me and that will probably be better than this because i’m fucking tired of this cacophony in my head / and writing this feels kind of good because i know it scares you but i need to scream somehow and through all this i’m honestly terrified that i was only made to break things / that this monster in my chest is really the only thing that controls me / because i want the thunder to roll above me and i want to not be afraid this time / i want to run out into the storm and tilt my head up to the sky and hold out my arms out like a bird because i think the world is falling apart but a small part of me has always wanted to fly / and the rain falls so hard it hurts and i’m only half yours and the calming music just makes it hurt more / and thinking about it is smashing a hammer against a glass jar and laughing as it falls apart / and the lightning roars / and the sky goes kind of black and they tell me not to have anything plugged into the outlets because my head is a mess and explosions are a thing that happen / and i can’t even process the idea / that one day  everything could go dark / and maybe that’s better because i hate the world for being so broken and i hate myself for being responsible for it / and the ink of the past smeared across my cheeks but it looks just a little bit like war paint if you tilt your head a certain way / and i want to find a way to deal with this / but i don’t think i can do that while you’re listening and the lightning crackles through my veins and my fists are wrecking balls and my thighs are buildings scheduled for destruction / and at the eye of the storm you can’t really feel anything / and i hate myself but right now it’s kind of diluted which is a relief because i’m tired of feeling everything in high definition / and right now there are tears streaming down my cheeks and the concrete tattoos itself into my knees and my lungs shake and i want to rip myself to pieces for so many goddamn reasons and the moonlight dances through my eyelids / and i don’t care about anything and i hate myself for not caring about anything which proves that i care about something / but i don’t want to care about anything / if i’m only going to have to watch it shatter in front of me / as i stand there frozen to the floorboards and the tears burn like acid / burn like acid / burn like acid / and i’m empty

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