we take so much from the earth,
and we give it nothing back.
we owe it everything.
singing thoughts
Take care
melancholic fuse
forever sunlight— I’ve lived in it
with you.
mascarpone delight— it’s my favorite
unlike now.
now is when frigid sugar temps
do little
to bring brightness.
they feign beauty despite their
glimmer
how unfortunate.
bye
I let you take over my life once.
But now
I stand strong.
Feet planted, spirit lifted
I’m here.
Right in front of you.
You no longer have a strangle over my brain, my heart, my organs.
I no longer feed them to you.
rigidly dead inside
“I feel like hacking at people.”
“Hacking at people… What?”
“Yeah, hacking. I want to carve out their carcasses and spread them out like spaghetti.”
One blink.
Then two.
A few more and a couple of gulps in between.
“Uh… let’s save that for therapy, shall we?”
A slight sweat starts to line their forehead.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,”— they wave it off— “that’s all it’s meant for lately.”
I’m trying (somewhat) new things lately! Not really that new, since I’ve been writing short stories this past year. I don’t have the heart or confidence to share them anywhere near here at the moment though, but it feels good to dump this here.
Tight
I almost always operate with a weight in my heart these days.
It’s suffocating, it’s deafening, it’s rumpling my skin.
It scoops and carves out parts of me that just doesn’t sit right.
I fight, I fight, I’m falling against the blight.
cut it shor—
I die.
I fly.
Come by.
This is why.
Nightmare
It flies in the air.
It stands in despair.
It pops out from screens.
I wish it was unseen.
The hidden ones come crawling.
They come gnashing and thrashing.
You don’t even notice.
Is it actually bliss?
It’s odd to keep on going with #escapril prompts when it’s almost the end of July. I’m trying to finish things that I’ve started though, so we’ll see how long this goes!
…
Life is so short.
You’re reminded,
Reminded,
Reminded
All the time.
Cliché but true.
Heard so often,
Thoughts misconstrued.
It’s so sudden.
No words ensue.
…
Waiver
Freeing.
Why do we always seek to be free?
Does that mean we’re always stuck?
Always restrained?
Never enough freedom?
Complaining about how it’s always gone?
Maybe it’ll never be enough.
The taste of bliss is always temporary.
Comfortable (for now)
there is some justice.
only some.
justice does not stop here.
this moment is enough
to let us sleep for the night,
to let us feel some comfort, but
but,
but,
but it will never truly be enough.
Carmel 