POEMS and stuff

Finding an obscure piece of media and it ends up amazing you

Waking up from a nightmare about school and remembering you graduated

Looking back on a past version of yourself and feeling empathy and respect, and no shame

Finding a lost thing you’d already stopped looking for.

Finding confidence after a period of self-doubt

The adrenaline of bonding with someone new

Remembering something you wanted and now have, and being pleased all over again

Being in a good mood and accidentally catching your eye in the mirror, and grinning at yourself

Coming home from a long trip and your pet is waiting for you

Finally talking with someone who was hurt the same way you were

Seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes, and liking what you see there

Realizing you can do something you assumed you couldn’t

A hot shower on a cold day. Afterwards, a steamy room and warm towels. A bath in a freshly cleaned bathroom.

Fairy string lights. They are cheap and Good.

Something that was expensive 5 years ago, now it’s cheap and you still want it

Someone gives you a gift, and you genuinely hugely love it, and they can tell

You give them a gift, and it goes the same way

Cold tea on a warm day.

Shady grass on a bright day.

The warm weight of a pet sitting on your lap

Thinking that an argument with a loved one will be serious, but it works out because they never lose sight of the fact they love you.

Recovering from an abusive relationship, and learning to allow yourself to be loved. Telling someone you love about the past, downplaying it, and they cry for you in a way you couldn’t.

Feeling safe when safety hasn’t been your norm.

Unexpectedly realizing people are drawn to you and like you, as you are.

Being with someone who relaxes you.

Really wanting to talk to a friend, and they pick up on the first ring.

Something bad happens, but in that moment you know how to handle it, without even trying, and you do. And you come out all right.

Being able to talk about old bad things, and feeling better about them for first time in years. Having those things lift.

A tattoo, piercing, or medical thing you thought would hurt doesn’t

Knowing that something is frightening, but being unafraid

After thinking that you aren’t enough, realizing that you are

Looking back on the day and liking it

Feeling better than you expected to

Having time alone after a day full of people

Quiet satisfaction with something you’ve made

Finishing a personal project, looking back on all you’ve done

“I’m aromantic,” I tell her.

“I’m asexual.

I have nothing to offer you.

To you, I am worthless.”

She raises my chin with her soft fingers,

“Oh, but you do.”

She points to my chest.

“Can you hear it beat?

There’s love in that heart.”

“It may not be sexual.

It may not be romantic.

But perhaps it exists in a different form.

Perhaps your love is a shape that cannot be defined.”

I look to Aphrodite,

For the comfort that there is love in my heart

And there is love for me to receive.

Even if it’s just from me, to me.

That love is there,

Thoughts

Thoughts, that comes out of nowhere,

Thoughts, that ruins your inner stillness,

Thoughts, that never leaves you alone,

Thoughts, that traps your mind like a man in a dark prison,

Thoughts, that controls the ability to think

Thoughts, that has literally no bounds

Thoughts, that can pop up anywhere and everywhere

Thoughts, that seems like anxiety but it is more complex than what anxiety feels like

Thoughts, that keeps you aware of your responsibilities, problems, surroundings and so on..

Thoughts, that sometimes helps you to make your decisions precisely and correctly

Thoughts, that makes you an over thinker

Thoughts, that keeps you alive

Thoughts, that keeps you going though all the chaos and bustles….

Don’t fault me for my aloofness For my poor, crippled efforts at expression I tie my tongue into knots trying to address you Besides silence, everything feels foolish No small talk, no socially coded dialogue Could encapsulate what I have to say to you All I have to offer is my disembodied voice I can’t quite achieve presence without this delayed speech Feelings vibrate and hum loudly inside But my clumsy vocal chords can’t find the right frequency Only after the fact can I capture their echo For me, the page has much more eloquence I don’t know how to fully be a person in person

If I want to touch, to connect, to exist outside of myself Words are all I have Without them I’m a rock sinking without ripples nor ricochet Soundwaves that never quite escaped my lips Without them I fear they’ll be nothing to remember me by For who knows me now? Who can say they have seen my true face? I use language to take your hands and guide them to me With each line your fingers can follow on the paper They glide on my features You can trace the bony bridge of my nose The hollow of my eye sockets The bowed relief of my upper lip The scar along my chin I can press your palm to my chest And tell you “I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive” And I can hold you Away from your eyes, I can say all those things That would seem so misplaced So pitiful if they were spoken out loud

In writing I’m not cold, I am right next to you Over your shoulder, my temple pressed against your cheek Close enough for my thoughts to enter your bloodstream You think me distant but if you let me in I’ll even share your skin Make it shiver with anger and pain, love and longing I will let you know me If you pay attention, it will be the most intimate embrace I’ll allow you to feel around the warm, wounded, throbbing flesh Your hand softly grazing my soul I’ll be human for you, I will have a story I’ll extend myself far enough to reach across this distance These miles and miles of no-man’s land Scorched earth between me and the world Words are all I have to show you something lives inside this shell Something that is happy and sad and furious at times Something that could love you and that you may love back

And tears slowly rolled down her face

As she whispered to herself

Trapped under the weight of

my own fear for the future

no longer bright

just the darkest of nights

I spin around in circles

a girl decked in thorns

waiting for a change

from the bloodletting

with no end in sight.

Chasing my own tail -

for a glimpse of your

smile, the only star

still left in my sky.

Tomorrow comes

and I’m still tired.

Bone-tired, deep like a well

I keep trying to fill, to no avail.

I plant things in all the wrong seasons

Just to prove I’ve mastered dust,

Heaven’s wind turned so chilling

So frigid that arm hairs turn to twigs.

During this storm of freezing air

I dig into the icy ground

To plant summer berries

For winter needs some sweetness.

I press down hard

Every time paper is used

Ink seeping through the page,

I need these ideas to permeate

All the way to tomorrow,

Recording every good dream

To not forget it when I wake.

Times of year rendered unimportant

Limitations of pens ignored

For the need I have finds a way.

Strawberries skating across the ice

When I want for it in January,

Apples jumping over Autumn

In my August hunger.

Can we be like this more often,

Ignoring what everyone tells us to do?

Can we work through Valentines Day

Simply because I love you all year round?

Forsaking strangers stares

For it’s only your gaze I care about,

I go shirtless in December

As you’ve always kept me warm.

- Vagabond Prophet

@josy57 prompted me with “seeping through the page.”

Tiptoeing the curb

So close to but not over

The edge into oblivion,

Into the volcanoes mouth

The eye of the storm

Or the jaws of the beast

Open maws for the feast.

With the mind of a child

No possibility is less real

Than the one in front of you,

How would the world change

If we always thought that way?

For love is a magic

Not lost in little ones,

They know gentle hands

Kisses and embraces

Heal many wounds.

- Vagabond Prophet

what is it that you find in him?

is it the way he tears your heart

in the most beautiful yet painful way?

is it the way he smiles at you

the kind of smile that completes your day?

is it the way he lets you down

incapable of pulling you up?

is it the way he overdosed you

with a love so beautiful that you just can’t stop?

tell me, tell me again

what is there to love

And now the process feels estranged

Alienated by my own ink

Rejected by the pen

The paper repels from my touch,

Crouches and bends away

“Where have you been?” they ask,

“Why have you forgotten us?”

And i lay down next to them on the cold wooden planks,

Like a man wishing to be accepted by a lions’ pack,

And I sweetly say;

“I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t given up.

For once in my life, i was content with who I am.

I was happy and I was busy and it felt good to not have time to think. And because I didn’t think, I didn’t write. My thoughts mercifully empty and buzzing with the day’s adrenaline. It felt good. It felt good and so,