starfaeriess

trying to outrun my own ordinariness

a nonentity a cipher a code a shadow

a hull of bright shining clarity

it’s killing me loudly and soundly

like nothing ive ever been before

and yet still

forever too late

Maybe to the shitty cheap university apartments, laughing with my roommate about how the lecturer hadn’t even turned up that day. Sipping wine together while watching cartoons because nothing makes you feel better than being an adult and a child at the same time. Going out on friday nights to get wasted enough that we pass out in the living room, sweaty and disgusting but still fond of the memory years later.

I can be my own main character. Achieve greatness away from everyone else’s uniqueness. My timidness no longer weighs me down instead its burning my soul. I float and I float and I float until I can’t anymore and retire, a living legend.

Of course, you understand, these are only dreams. Mediocrity is not something you can outrun. Making it out of my childhood small town seems on the outskirts of possibility, but it will be enough. It has to be.

pick and pick and pick at me

until it all comes crashing out

ages upon eras upon eons

Of insignificant half rotten godawful words to want attention

oh please, you don’t need to act,

whither and hover while I

turn you over pull shadows closer

all I've seen of love is rot and blood and sweat and tears and bones cracking, hearts tearing

seen people shifting into monsters or monsters looking human, both just as terrible as the other

seen how it changes people from the very dust they are made of, turns the happiest of them all to this watery blue desolate corpse

turns the dirtiest of scoundrels to the richest most broken pieces of shit, which, mind you, they likely always have been

because the gatsbys never win, and the daisys always lose, and yet in the truest fashion of nick carraway, I sit and watch

let them tear each other apart till nothing but the green light

and daisy’s dead decaying bleeding heart are left

neither never nor the in between

aspire for the austen dream in faded country landslides

clamber to follow brontës in vivid heavy obsession

climb and climb, fall and die

for to be mediocre is to be worse than to be nothing

turn for van gogh or picasso, heavens even for the calling of 

the modern genius went insane

work for it so deeply that it stitches, turns and burns outside in

lessons learned early on are those never forgotten

I want to be great or nothing

till I feel nothing more than I do now

kiss me devouring and empty

killing me in more ways than you know how

kiss me full and hollow

laugh at me before the everlasting gutwrenching final bow

but it’s not worth much and you know it

hours upon hours of haunting words

over and over and over

nothing calms like the slow bleed of the slightly lesser

nothing helps like the quiet, false, reassurances of your mind,

nothing hurts like the knowledge that none of it is quite ever really

how its meant to be

imagine me as a child, sunburnt and arms broken, but imagine me happy

ecstatic, effervescent

remember me, but remember you, as well

(I’m sorry but I can’t be there for you, this is something you just have to get through)

call me shallow

call me everything under the sun

because at least one word from your lips

watch me drive all those images away watch me grow indifferent and oh so shallow watch me follow your example to a t,  watch me throw it all away on the basis of no reason

or better yet, don’t let this bother your attention no actions, no words on your tongue, is worse than some. 

drowned all on his own listening to words left unsaid over and over again drowned right by the window watching everything that was his walk away drowned before he ever even touched those useless wings

tell me about how you used to feel were you happy or broken? sad or painstakingly lonely?

tell me about how you left her behind was it difficult or freeing? terrifying or exhilaratingly new?

as always, that was sinful each day you lingered less and less, remaining even barely words each day you wandered more and more, wisps of you barely corporeal each day you left until someday you just never came back