aborted motions

!! thanks for letting me know, u can find it here

❤️❤️❤️ i think that poem and the feelings that come along with it were a necessary thing at the time and i’ve been able to move past living in that and i am thankful for that. i haven’t written poetry in a year either but reading this makes me want to again!!! and i hope you’ve had luck in your endeavours 😌

desert road 2018

i absolutely did because man. that book is a trip. meursault is a trip. for something so short that i had to read for a class, it really had an effect on me.

you sunk into this far too easily. already hungry. always waiting. now, i offer so much more than my wrists to you. you turn over in your sleep. next, i come for god.

yes! it’s called “i dream of doing violence unto those who have hurt me”

i’ve been thinking about you in all the wrong ways again. my lampshade hangs crooked and spills the light out all bad. the birds migrate at an odd time of year. heard your voice in my dreams last week. i don’t want to find meaning in this. i deny my nature.

i have no clue why it did that :( but i’ve updated the link on the post nd hopefully this will also work

i was ‘bout to get on my high horse about people assuming i’m a taurus and how i must display obvious taurean traits thru my poetry but then i remembered the chapbook i wrote abt being a taurus so that’d do it

so i kept living. thought i could survive anything & i was afraid of nothing but the dark. i made myself elysian. transcendent but not pure. more like a  pillar of smoke rising up to choke the sharp dawn. i’m looking for providence. it always comes back to the light & all the ways i used to love & all the ways i can’t anymore.

u sent me this message so many months ago & i still think about it when i’m doubting myself & i just wanted to thank u for that, infinitely

bridges are dangerous to me because i’m home to too many bad ideas which i think are good ideas. the girl i loved told me i’d probably die trying to prove that i can’t die which is probably true, but i’ve been dying for years anyway. it’s just a matter of time now, waiting to see what gets me first – the crooked brain or broken body, the lightning crack or the slow slide under the water. i’m a reaction, all recoil, the kickback from a gun as it punches your shoulder, turning away from something horrific. i wasn’t gentle to begin with but living traumatised me and now bridges are dangerous. i don’t believe in the afterlife but the boy i loved does and thinks i’m going somewhere after this. once, i thought i was God but God’s bigger than this and not to be fucked with. even i know that.

i’m so? awed when ppl tell me about how my writing makes them feel and beyond grateful, so just. thank you.