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

smoke

coffee always tastes like a bonfire to me. it slips down my throat, leaving a bitter aftertaste, makes my heart race and palpitate. my jaw clenches, and the back of my skull throbs. but this shit happens sometimes, you know?

you shatter on the cork floor, or stare into the mesmerizing light of the refrigerator. use a whole box of tissues, and cry into your dinner. you watch parks and rec on your phone, for ten minutes or five hours. i don’t know, does it matter?

because i’m just tired. and angry, and lost. so i’ll lash out, like a child, trapped inside ceramic. can you blame me? can you save me? can you get me out of my head, even just for a little bit? give me neat rules and clear definition, tuck me into bed with a cup of chamomile tea, at 9:23pm. exactly.

and when i wake up, blood will cling to the tips of my fingers like the morning dew, and i don’t fucking know what to do. you whisper sweet nothings in my ear, tell me it’ll all get better if i just listen to you. but i’m not a kid anymore. i know it’s not true.

play the hero

the woodsmoke contaminates our lungs.

because no matter how hard i fight, in the end i’ll always lose you. i was never cut out to play the hero. but what else am i supposed to do?

so i stay up until 2am, painting the glass ceiling a perfect shade of blue. even though my mask, i can still smell the paint fumes.

but i will keep going. i will ignore the blinding sunrise, digging its pins and needles in my eyes; i will grit my teeth, and push through…

but i don’t understand. how come the rivers of poison always seem to follow you?

periwinkle blue

roll down the window. so i can feel the summer air whisper sweet nothings against my cheeks; hear the laughing children; smell the red-hot gasoline…

because if you just look right into the sun, until your retinas start burning up, don’t you miss the good old days so desperately, when everything was perfect, and you were young?

when you were miserable, and lonely, and dumb…

so take me back. to a time when the sky shone a gorgeous periwinkle blue, as the leaves pirouetted off golden-brown maple trees. when you nudged my shoulder, and i smiled back at you.

to pink gingham dresses; love letters, and morning dew. a fairy tale kiss that never even happened.

but god, do i miss it…


Hey guys! I’m so sorry about how this post came out before it was actually done, now you know how terrible my rough drafts are? Ack, I’m super embarrassed, basically what happened is I had been working on a story chapter for, like, five hours straight or something ridiculous, and I was way too tired to finish blog posts and have anything good come out of it, which is a problem I really need to deal with, but that’s another story. Anyhow, I scheduled it to come out at 9am on Monday, and got up at 8, but I didn’t finish it in time, walked away from the computer, it came out automatically, I freaked out, scheduled it to come out at four, but at four I was on the phone and completely forgot about it, so it came out again, and now here I am finally fucking editing this properly, and hopefully this coming out on Friday isn’t too much of a let-down. I’m so sorry for the confusion, I hope you like the poem anyway 🙂

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings

03/16/2020


In this episode, I talk jobs, university, confusion, and the expectations that come with growing up.

Song is “A Cool Rainy Night” by Mike Durek. It is found here (https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Michael_Durek/Piano_Music_for_The_Broken_Hearted_1221/03_A_Cool_Rainy_Night), and used according to this license (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/).
It has been edited by me.

“Mimos Menguados” is from patrickdeartegea.com  and has also been edited by me.

Need to talk to anyone? Find a crisis line in your area here: https://www.suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html

All songs have been edited by me.

All sound effects made by yours truly! 🙂

The next episode will be dropping next Friday, 9a.m. PDT–make sure to subscribe/follow/add this podcast to your library/enable notifications on it to be notified when it comes out.

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