shooting stars and bad dreams

when the fridge stops working, and the dishwasher floods the kitchen

when the drywall cracks beneath the weight

of childhood portraits anchored into its abyss

yeah, when the city crumbles, when the lights turn off

when the big one comes

and the asteroid wipes out half the human race

when we stumble through the blacked-out city, 12am, dizzy and numb

looking up at the stars

asking which one we’ll become

say that you’ll find me

in the fault lines, and used glass bottles

in stifled screams

bite your hand until it bleeds

spin around in circles, and wash the fuse go

in flashlight tag

in melting icicles and broken teeth

i’m gonna fix it

i’m gonna hold your hand, and take a deep breath

and make a to-do list

rip out the floors, scavenge for scraps among the wreckage

of things that used to be

hang the paintings on a stud line

frame the pictures new again

fix the wires

and make a cup of tea

when the walls start to shake

and the sky wraps it’s spindly fingers right around my throat

when my fingers are numb to the touch

and the world fades out to grey

and we’ll make the best of a bad deal

we’ll laugh and sit in awkward silence

we’ll hold hands, and i’ll think

that you’re worth a couple stars

and that’s nothing new

blackberry roads

it smells just like blackberries on the highway

smoke and daydreams

mental breakdowns in the backseat

staring out the window

you watch the world go by until you start to get dizzy

you watch the world go by until you don’t know what you’re doing

yeah you’re fifteen, and you’re confused

so you’re reading all the books you can find

pray to god you can pay off the overdue fines

you stand there, and you watch from the sidelines

work on your note-taking skills

you are cynical and dreaming

black-eyed and bruised

and sometimes you cry like a baby

when you lose your keys

or check the news

i write my poems in second person

‘cause i can’t stand to see myself in you


I’ve been getting a lot better at guitar, and I can totally imagine this as a spoken word track–with some guitar in the background, and an old-timey vintage feel to it? I don’t know–I wanted to write a piece that encapsulated my summer, and this ended up being it.

Lorna

a short reflection on how it feels to prove your humanity

scream into that empty hollow mouth of yours, and watch the sound bleed out / blink the hospital ambiance away with a flick of my tongue / and yes, i know we bleed the same / yes i know, you are a million miles away / so whisper into hollow lungs, and ignore the warning signs / the sweat crawling down your back / or that sick, cold feeling in your gut / and i’ll do the same, darling, i’ll take all my rotten parts out / and i’ll make them anew / i will do a dance and sing a song / scream and shout in my glass box, just for you / can’t you see? / but of course, to your eyes / it’s probably nothing more than coincidental symmetry / something, something / rolling the dice / when it comes down to it, when it’s “her life over mine” / you will only hesitate a moment / before you dig the scalpel in / and oh god / oh jesus fucking christ / sometimes i look in the mirror, at my plastic skull / and my sinful eyes / sometimes i can’t help but wonder if you might be right

sweet tea

content warning: discussion of disordered eating

love poetry / and sweet tea / honey sticks to my throat / in the summer heat but / i think that if heaven is out there, then this is what it would be / it would be pretty dresses and the colour pink it would be / sugar and cream / because maybe we weren’t put here to suffer / to push the boulder up the hill / over and over again / to punish soft baby skin / and go hungry because of a post you saw online / about how gorgeous it is to feel sick / and weak / and sad all the time / how healthy definitely looks like crying at mealtimes / and your body doesn’t care about your feelings / trust me, it’s not true / trust me, you deserve rainbows in the mist of a garden hose / like it’s the first time / dewdrops on the morning leaves, catching the light / to hold yourself like the child you didn’t get to be at night / to sing lullabies to someone you really love / and spin around in the mirror, cause you look so fucking pretty / so i’ll tuck flowers behind your ear and hold your hand / and let petal-soft words crawl out of my throat / they’ve been hiding there for a while / so they’re probably gonna be a little awkward, and clumsy at first / but in time, i think i’ll learn


I spent a really long time punishing myself for wanting nice things–I’m honestly still kind of in the habit. But, although this year has been pretty horrible–I think I did finally learn how important it is, to listen to yourself, and be soft, and kind. How much of a difference the smallest nice things can make–like a vase of flowers on your desk, or a snack you really like, when you’re deprived yourself of those things your entire life, out of some strange mix of self loathing and pride.

It doesn’t have to cost a ton of money, or any at all. It doesn’t have to be fancy, or dramatic. But sometimes, just taking a bath after a long day to relax, or making yourself a mug cake feels really, really good. Like a quiet, peaceful surrender.

I’m still figuring it out. I’m still clumsy, and confused, but… I think I am, very slowly, getting somewhere.

rome

i’m not good at objectivity. because sometimes, when the light catches my cheeks just right, i feel the whole world spin on its head. but i’m trying not to get caught up in the first emotion that comes to me. i’m trying to be cool, and calm, and collected, because i’ve heard that’s a good step somewhere along the way to being happy.

so in no particular order, here’s what i remember: nothing and everything at once. a happy girl on the swingset, coming home and crying on the floor. i’ve spent so many years, clutching secrets close to my chest, and feeling their weight. but no matter how hard i try i just can’t let them go. at least, not today.

so for now, i’ll close my eyes, and let you count out all the holes in my jeans. feel soft touches build me up like rome, because no matter how hard i try to hide it i always have been a stack of dominoes.

and that’s the kind of thing i know i’d use to share with no hesitation. because the world is good, and strangers could be trusted. probably. and there was a future out there, waiting for me, just out of reach. but now i am a circuit with no fuse, ready to catch fire at the slightest gesture. but i’m not gonna hurt you. i’m gonna keep my cool if it’s the last thing i do.

here’s what i know: i am the witch, i am her hostage, and the self-entitled prince riding in to save her too. which probably means i’m a regular fucking person, also known as a catastrophic failure, or a constant work in progress.

doesn’t that make your skin crawl? doesn’t it slip under your tongue, or slither down your spine? because it does mine, every time i think about it. but i’m told that sometimes, you just have to face it head on, break in a brave face like a new pair of shoes. and catch myself when i stumble, just like i would catch you.

i’ve heard that’s something happy people do.


Another escapril prompt! I thought this one turned out pretty nicely, but let me know what you think. 🙂