Transcript And Tag List Under The Cut:

transcript:

Eulogy from The Dead

I have been meaning to form coherent sentences/ for a month now,/ which is to say i died/ a month ago,/ which is to say i was seen/ since my beginning,/ which is to say i was / grieved too,/ in a way that/ didn’t exceed my expectations,/ which is to say/ the people who touched my carcass/ might still be breathing/ with a/ washed- off sense / of myself,/ which is to say/ i am alive.

taglist under the cut (ask to be added or removed.):

@ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @jules-hazard @rottensummerlove @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @champagnesrush @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @ch3rryblo55oms @parihumay (if somebody knows their moved blog, please inform!) @eveesque

should i like post a poem im not very proud of but has some stuff that i think i have never written like or wait to have a mentally deranged absolutely soul crushing experience and then write about it and post its watered down version?

on his day and mine

taglist under the cut:

@ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @rottensummerlove @champagnesrush @kajukatliontop @jules-hazard @eveesque @ch3rryblo55oms @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @it-is-what-it-it-iss @parihumay ( if yk their moved blog, do inform!)

transcript and tag list under the cut! (ask to be added):

i am being in one but many forms

remember when it was about screaming once in two months? when i was not a big girl but my father was still old? when all the cheap porcelain was the centre of attention in our house? &, when there were no dolls but i wasn’t allowed to cross the road on my own?// i. the growing is like a venus flytrap: two-fold./ evil, like a fortnight before spring./ spring, like summer’s step-child./ when i remember/ my 8 years old shadow: i was becoming./ now, at 16, i want to be seen.// ii. the mirroring of another’s solitude was a/ foot less deep when i handed them my chocolate. now, i am making bread but to never consume. now, i don’t measure sugar/ or hear the alarm./ if it weren’t for the cries for 8 pm tv shows,/ i’d still be a little more tenuous./ i think a girl starts rotting when/ she feels blood in her body.// iii. not to say that i can lie today, but/ there was not much to lie about back then./ i broke a glass./ but another hand searched for the shards too./ and also! i never had to lie!/ my brother announced my mishaps/ before my mother even approached me.// iv. today, i do not lie on the ground/ but rush to the washroom to sit and stare./ i feel content when i grit my teeth/ & i don’t feel them breaking/ because,/ i always closed my mouth when i peed./ oh, don’t you know? my mother said/ it’s bad for your teeth when you let them be/ in the restroom. it weakens them./ “as if teeth are something that could be/ weaken! as if teeth have beards!”// v. to write nothing everyday is not a logic/ i want to normalise. but the thing is,/ it starts to feel ecstatic/ when i see a mirror & i stand to stare./ another being. same as me./ i exist,/ two fold: skin and bones./ tenuous: a rope tied to throat./ i exist./ i didn’t rot, i exist.

taglist: @ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @rottensummerlove @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @champagnesrush @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @ch3rryblo55oms @parihumay @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @star-dust-2317 @catguin-the-kitty-cat @a-smart-dumbass( still not working:((? )

@/akratiisalive

(taglist under the cut!)

@king-of-knives @a-moonlit-poet @bedfordhealyx @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @fawadkhangf @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @cherryblossom @parihumay @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @ghostof @catguinstudies@a-smart-dumbass @anarchist-therapist @petulanceinaprettyflower @intoxicatednits @bellaisthebeast @rustyswingset

I would love to be healed

if you’d touch me,

But I wouldn’t be all the same.

So would you love me healed

or have you learned to adjust

in my broken crevices?

Do they still leave a mark deeper than paper cuts

or are you numb to all the succumbing

my nightmares brought you to?

- @akratiisalive

In a million pieces i fell-

The untoward had happened;

none heard my bones cracked,

none felt the silence it left me with.

The earth beneath me wasn’t holy or fertile.

It was cemented, though crooked, unzipping.

The sky turned on me,

enclosing my body, following my soul-

I didn’t turn my head in, it was held straight

but another did not shield my body, I was left alone.

Thus, the realisation flickered my shattered soul:

The fate of being alive

didn’t help the survival,

didn’t care for salvation.

- @akratiisalive

transcript and taglist under the cut-

a mother’s defying, a mother’s demise.

most days,/ he doesn't swim in his grief. he sleeps on it,/ only to wake up with misery underneath him,/ hugging his torso, grasping his neck./ he says, clenching his hands to the bark of the neem tree,/ "my mother has left me in the backyard to sleep with no place to bury her"/ so, he is carrying her around on his tongue/ between the words he swallows and/ the food he spits out.// on the road are children throwing rocks at trains,/ a man hiding his guilt from the view, not letting it drift away/ as he cups his hands to light a cigarette./ holstering himself to the kitchen window, / the boy longs for the freedom of the man./ a rush of noise, he longs to scream:/ an act of expressing where he needn't pick a language.// her bed is made before he calls it a night./ he finds the same next day at 7./ most days,/ it feels as if she hasn't abandoned the walls./ the water in the taps still runs its course through the right drain./ it's as if she intended for him to suffocate in the mundane.// so, he tugs under her quilt she left to dry in the backyard/ the boy sleeps with the sound of crickets/ canceling the occasional unrest from the train tracks,/ canceling the occasional unrest from her mother's dreams.

tag list:

@ruins-of-heart @some-broken-words @rottensummerlove @floralbeast @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @riskanothergoodbye13 @hoeliterature @it-is-what-it-it-iss @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad (still not working????????)

transcript: hands to my dreary dreams.

i have been shedding skins since last August. consider me an onion, your favourite vegetable. don’t put me in water. i need to shed your tears.// the dreams are dreary like cold milk or uncooked soup. the tepid air in the kitchen, under the sheets disgorges a burnt out fire, never a homely warmth. but in this one bedroom kitchen apartment, they heap incompleteness yet they are consumed like your favourite soup.// i want you to reach into my throat, past the lips that have never been swayed. reach out to the words i hoard, my secret stash, the ones that even eyes fail to convey.// reach out to me and i will meet you halfway in my sleep. all i do now is dream. the wishful thinking is not about staying still but moving quietly in my sleep. and letting the grass strike my face as i bend my limbs to mould into the tire. i am reaching out to every six year-old who played with me but i have replaced my body with a tall child.// i want to stand still, drive a knife to make myself two. a daughter, now let me be two cells too. mitosis: i want to get doubled, not divided into halves like my father.// untangle my earphones. are you watering my plants? the sun will incinerate their phantom vibrants for even clouds deceive when salt of the earth doesn’t hit the mark.// i have buried my grief in my mother’s lap. now, she has ceased to exist. meet me halfway in her shawl. i will wrap my fingers around yours. and in time, my windows will crawl back to our home, their edges engraved with her shawl.

tag list under the cut (ask to be added or removed):

@ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @rottensummerlove @ch3rryblo55oms @nochampagneonlyproblems @champagne-rush @mydogisgaytoo @floralbeast @it-is-what-it-it-iss @lilhappylilsad @hoeliterature @kajukatliontop

oh my god thank you so much for thinking of my art like that you’re such a sweet soul hugging you rn💗

I wanna straight up absorb some of y’all’s art styles into my cerebral cortex via osmosis