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i've never been one for theatrics, and yet...

september 2018 - august 2020

if i can't escape my fate, then i will make myself a story

Message to Readers

nolite te bastardes carborundorum.

this is not a poem, it's a shitpost. really.
seriously, i didn't even try to hide the references you guys (please notice weirdo’s comment)
just having ~fun~

in seriousness, not sure how much real work i'll post here anymore. life has been busy, horizons have been expanded while others have narrowed... i'm not ruling the site out, but... i'm not about populating ghost towns.

am currently being sustained by ca. 2007 cartoons on netflix and folklore by taylor swift.

natural opposites

July 31, 2020


 you claim a shadow of a nation;
what is this, your bloodline, your birthright,
your fire-fueled mockery of an empire?
it burns around the edges, you know, little lord 
of ruthless ruination; wicked warfare takes its toll.

you house a people of prim savages with
proper destruction; those who favor the demolition 
of a world to accommodate a culture. 

dysfunctional family, you lords of grudge
and grievance, gaze upon your happy portraits
and tell me how much a picture’s worth. 

girl, this mask i hold is not my own;  
for i too am a child of blood and battle.
born to bear sword and flame, yes, i am 
a rose, pruned, cruel gardeners grooming me 
from the day i began to bud, 
because i was nothing but an ember 
flung amongst the dead brush of autumn to them.
(because i am a forest fire at their command)
and what cannot be stopped cannot fail. 
(i cannot help the way they Made me)

dirges of poverty sing among your conquests
as children call for cut-down parents; you 
ring in the day with the crush of gears and smoke,
choke the life from every sprout of hope. 
young prince, is this what honor sounds like?

do you lie awake at night with the shame of 
hungry flames eating at your eyes; or have 
you never watched a village burn?

now show me, son of sunlight, how much blood 
still stains your hands?

keeper of the stars, you’ve never owed 
anyone but your heart; you chose, you wove your fate
under moonlight, fluid as the waves you pull,
but i am clay in the kiln, built by wrinkled hands
and detachment (and all i can do is shatter).

and daughter of river bends, never have 
you ever known the pain of burned wings
and bloody backs, punctured by the pressure
of bitter rivalry;
(not all scars are visible).

and water could heal every wound, but darling, 
fire will cleanse a blade.
a conversation.
water and fire.


See History
  • July 31, 2020 - 3:45pm (Now Viewing)

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  • sunny.v

    im not an intellectual apparently bc i couldn't catch the references...f in the chat ;-; and i'll love your work wherever you decide to go! i agree about the ghost towns...it just seems. eh. here. anyways this is absolutely spectacular and it has so much personality! lovely lovely work!

    4 months ago
  • poetri

    you better know you're still my favorite :)
    fr though, this is fantastic and perfect and i love it i love it i love ittttt

    4 months ago
  • jaii

    that's rough buddy

    4 months ago
  • Dmoral

    i keep coming back to this piece in hopes of commenting, but none of my comments is coming out properly and addresses this piece in a way that expresses how i feel about it. so i just want you to know even if you don't think it's a poem- i do and it's bloody brilliant. i can truly relate to and understand so much of this piece, it just - *sighs*. i stan

    4 months ago
  • inanutshell

    love this!! the contrast in here and your phrasing is astounding. your writing is always amazing, and will look forward to whatever else you post should you choose to stay! all the best w life stuff <3

    4 months ago
  • Lights.B (#holidayvibes)

    This was so fun to read omg you did such a great job on this!
    "choke the life from every sprout of hope." AMAZINGGG!

    4 months ago