rainandsonder

United States

"the audience is only safe when the story isn't about them."

they/them - probably listening to sufjan stevens

Message from Writer

an important piece by outoftheblue- https://bit.ly/3dBxv5r

black lives matter & pride is over but the fight for lgbt+ rights is year round.

bio quote is from the magnus archives

september is an ever-closer due date

October 13, 2019

FREE WRITING

23
i. anxiety, like love, is not something you feel or something you have, but a state that you are in. it's why my mind is a violent flower that only blooms at night; it's their eyes and teeth reflected on the cutting steel surfaces of four walls leaning closer closer closer; it's a hundred loose threads that i can't help but unravel, and now i'm waiting with a drag in my stomach for when they'll finally stop. i only crane my head to see faces biting the window, saliva dripping down, and my back tightens and hisses but i resist the urge to turn and look.

ii. the past, anyone will tell you about the past: sunburns and bug bites all over. the future is worse, eyes averted and tones just a pitch off. i crinkle like origami in the face of what must come, whether it's the next sunday or the sunday fifty years later. the future is the hard "k" when someone says you need to talk, a neon sign that, up close, reads only "dead end."

iii. so i don't think about the future, and i don't think about loose threads. am i a poet if all my stanzas just paraphrase what i've already said? am i a poet if i lean over at lunch and tell you that i get this sort of lonely ache in my chest, a strawberry aftertaste in the mornings and a cyanide cherry pit at night? how do you measure art: by line breaks and an 11pt arial font, or the way the words stick like leather furniture in summer? or is it its own kind of regretful poetry if i quit altogether and end up writing only to fill out tax forms?

iv. in the desert, the night sky is shot with purple, and in the mountains, bleeding blue ink, but the night in the suburbs is more charcoal scribble that smells like sulfur and car gas. someone pressed the tip so hard it broke; the blackness swallowed the stars and is now looking at the earth with a hungry gleam in its eye. when cars drive down the street, they look like flashlights in a gaping, oil-black cave, and some nights i cannot even find the moon. the tides turn sluggish and a static-half black. i forget, more and more, that the night can be vast and breathtaking.

 
i write a lot in my notebooks but forget to transfer it on here. i remembered today, so here's a jumble of things i've been writing for the past month.

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

10 Comments
  • Wicked!

    Your writing is absolutely ethereal.


    8 months ago
  • rainandsonder

    @emmiewrites yes, i do, but i'm not very active; i don't think i've posted anything since june, maybe.
    @everyone, thank you so much for the kind words and compliments. i think this is now one of my most-liked pieces!


    about 1 year ago
  • emmiewrites

    wow, your writing is something else, do you have wattpad?


    about 1 year ago
  • mossmachinery

    how can i write like you do? i'm chasing after something, and i think you've caught it.


    about 1 year ago
  • mossmachinery

    how can i write like you do? i'm chasing after something, and i think you've caught it.


    about 1 year ago
  • jaii

    this is absolutely beautiful. just wow. how are you so amazing?


    about 1 year ago
  • agustdv

    i... i'm truly speechless.
    and so humbled. i now feel the urge to better myself almost manically because i want to reach your level.
    absolutely heart-rending. i really don't have enough words.


    about 1 year ago
  • aryelee

    the way you use words leaves me in awe; im literally gaping, in shock, stunned and left for dead. woah, what a piece. that opening just drew me in and your description are exactly what anxiety feels like. my own heart started beating faster, i got chills down my spine, because yeah that's it. that's what it is.
    'the future is the hard "k" when someone says you need to talk, a neon sign that, up close, reads only "dead end."', 'i get this sort of lonely ache in my chest, a strawberry aftertaste in the mornings and a cyanide cherry pit at night?', 'they look like flashlights in a gaping, oil-black cave, and some nights i cannot even find the moon.' are lines that are going to stick with me for the rest of the month. i'll have them repeating in my head because they're just so good. honestly, this entire piece is something i'm going to be rereading a lot; i can't get enough of your gorgeous writing and i'm very excited to have this be the next piece that haunts me


    about 1 year ago
  • Anha

    ...woah. i can't even do that fantastic thing that aryelee does when she loves a piece, highlights all the best parts and spits them back out into the comments, because i'd be highlighting the entire piece and rambling about how brilliant every well-placed word is. your writing is always an absolute pleasure to read, and i'm so glad you posted this even thought you're busy because this is breathtaking. the repetition of the question "am i a poet..." left me literally speechless, you gave a voice to the ineffable thoughts inside all of our subconscious minds and by dragging it out, made me feel an emotion that also has no name yet. i'm sure you'll find a way to say it though. you always do. "my mind is a violent flower that only blooms at night", "but the night in the suburbs is more charcoal scribble that smells like sulfur and car gas", "the blackness swallowed the stars and is now looking at the earth with a hungry gleam in its eye", honestly the entire last stanza went harder poetically than i've ever seen before. the best thing about your writing (or maybe something that's just as amazing as all of the other aspects of your art) is how you don't use big words to confuse people. this is raw and this is human and this is comparing lonliness to cherry pits in our ribcages and the night sky to a human error; we tried too hard to make it beautiful and so we ruined something spectacular. oh, look, i'm rambling anyways, what did i say? but truly, there are no words short or long enough, in any combination or pattern, than can truly express how breathtaking your writing is. i can tell, in the very near future, you're going to be amazing.


    about 1 year ago
  • JCWriter

    This is beautiful. I especially like several of the lines in iii: "the way the words stick like leather furniture in the summer" is so vivid and perfect, and the whole next sentence is amazing. Well written!


    about 1 year ago