thoughts by c

This blog was made so I could sort my thoughts out

to explore creativity and my brain

hence, its a selection of random poetic things that enter and leave my mind

here's some stuff about me you might want to know ⨾

★★★ cj or jasper / minor (20/8/9) / queer

★ I have just started school again, so might be very inactive

☆ 6w5, istp

☆ hufflepuff, cabin 12

☆ i love literature and want to get more into classics and poetry - if you have recommendations I'd love to hear them

☆ a few things i like: lana del rey, siouxsie and the banshees, sam fender, kate bush, the cure, just so many different types of music, marvel, DC, marauders/hp, the outsiders, dnd (jrwi, d20), musicals, hermitcraft, gothic architecture, hellenism, myths, astronomy, books

☆ common themes in my writing: loss, love, childhood nostalgia, music, mental health, politics

a conversation you don't remember

I can see a child swept up in the arms of a father,

in that white floored hall, with the vines

I think the child could've been me

they were mourning someone you hardly knew

their daughter, their mother, sister

she birthed me

you didn't know her. you don't even remember the funeral.

nothing is how it will remain

a grown girl of sixteen

up she goes

so high

black boots stepping up on

dusty blue sky

and greying cloud

climbing,

up and up

backwards, building momentum, gravity weighing down,

then forwards, reaching out,

touching the top of world with a muddy shoe,

creates

a reason

hate, fear, defense,

there is no doubt

blackness beneath her eyes

any words spoken are crushed between

a rotten index and thumb

i linger,

seeping through the cracks of her cracking walls,

there when she least expects, stalking,

it starts at my fingertips,

greying numbness,

travelling quick through my veins,

poisoning

the skin becomes cracked,

broken away at the slightest movement,

just a handshake takes my hand off completely

becoming immovable, slowly

stone limbs decay

the moss tried to grow here,

the statue crumbled

in bed,

layers upon layers of

viscous sweat coat my body,

every attempt to scrub it away only leaves

dead, dried up skin in my palm

the faintest breeze prickles my arms,

hope for what winter months will bring,

still, now,

i tangle with the duvet,

hair damp,

to think dirty thoughts about the same gender?

is it a sin to move countries to have a better life?

to be able talk freely,

in any language, about anything?

is it a sin to want to be paid for doing work?

to be angry for illness being

dismissed as female hysteria?

little me is sat on your knee,

the colourful lights could almost form a halo around your head,

hugging you in a blue and red glow.

there's only that photo to remember it, to remember what you looked like

memories of you,

your touch, your laugh, your voice,

are long gone by now,

like a chunk of my life where you existed has been ripped from my head.

I think I would do anything to remember

some nights I think about what life would be like if you were here,

my imagination can never get very far;

when everything suddenly feels

weightless and unresistably funny,

the giggles between friends

the yawns shared

in the dim light

midnight,

when the moon is at it's highest,

beautiful and bold,

glistening and shining down on just us

we danced in the zero hours moonlight

I twirled,

you swayed,

when to sleep,

when to eat.

it guides my way from above,

the brightest star

the light, illuminating,

warms better than a hug,

as it is gracefully pulled across the sky

heavy back against wood floor

a match clutched betwixt shaking fingers