United States

19 and boppin

Message from Writer

out of the deck of lgbt cards, im the ace

im dippin in like one week y'all should know where to find me by now

living with a heavy heart

March 16, 2019


I woke up howling at the altar with my heart in my hands.

The cold has left the air as winter is chased away. The shaking of my legs doesn't cease. I want to hide but there is nowhere I can go. There is no place where I feel safe.

If running away was easy, I would have left years ago, but my shackles are tied to the foundation of my being.
No one can really run from themselves, anyways. That doesn't mean I've stopped trying.

Something in me is wrong; something twisted and knotted up, messing up the way my body functions until I'm left in a sad mockery of what could pass as a human. I wonder if it's my lungs, the way air struggles to pass through them, leaving me breathless and struggling to breathe, a prolonged suffocation. Perhaps it's my heart, pumping out blood a shade too dark, coating my veins in oil. Maybe it's not something solid, something that can be cut up and stitched together. That emptiness in my stomach comes from loss, a part of me that's been ripped away and discarded.

Too often, my voice catches in my throat. I am disconnected from the world, watching through dirty glass as people pass by. I want to reach out but I always fall short, scrapping my knees into acrylic paintings of bruises, searching desperately for someone who will take in a reanimated corpse.

I keep my nails short so I don't scratch myself. The red lines raking down my arms would bring too much attention. When too many eyes look at you, too many minds remember you. That's how the monster always finds its prey.

Survival is a messy fight of desperation, pushing past the fear, running forward even when there's nowhere to go. I don't know what I'm running from. Or maybe I'm running to something. Either way, I keep running and get lost too many times for a trail of breadcrumbs to lead me back onto the right path.

I've memorized Greek tragedies to keep me company when the night is too quiet. So painfully human, each character is a reflection of myself, fighting against Fate to do what is right (for the world or for themselves doesn't really matter when they all die in the end) and I find it strange how thousands of years isn't enough to change the nature of humanity: that we thrash against anything holding us down, forever seeking something more.

I walk out of the temple, stitch myself back together, and look for another dream to haunt.

hhhhh im feeling a whole lot right now and anxiety is at an All Time High so heres a mess of nothing much that tries to talk about finding a future worth living for when i feel like the future is something with wolf teeth waiting to swallow me whole


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  • March 16, 2019 - 1:59am (Now Viewing)

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  • Anha

    oh my god?? the opening line is so perfect?? this really is a tragedy incarnate; i can feel the anxiety and 'what if what if' pounding like a pulse through this piece. absolutely stunning.

    almost 2 years ago
  • panda!

    I really liked your descriptions in this piece, and the first line was really well crafted. Great job!

    over 2 years ago