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ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄʀʏ
ɪғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴍɪɴᴇ
ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ
ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ғᴀᴄᴇ ɪᴛ ɢʟᴀᴅʟʏ
ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴋᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪs ʟɪɴᴋᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ

Message from Writer

song quote of the week:
sunflower of parting regrets - hitoshizuku-p x yama△

most if not all of my pieces have songs linked to them. give them a listen, you might like what you hear.

i hope the next decision you make brings you happiness.

in the loss of beautiful things

April 6, 2021



the pear flower that i picked up a while ago has rotted. what a surprise. 
spring picks every milk blossom off the branch. it smelled of something savory for two days. after that, after the petals had unfolded themselves from their mouths, a windstorm came and tore them out of the udder.
i used to create the most beautiful things. the most incomprehensible things. the milk has expired; i was like a mother cow. if she is lucky, there might be a feast left in the linings of her stomach. i tried to rediscover it, but it was too painful. no one knows that i was here, that i am still here, and that i once had a name. 
these days, i am fascinated with watching people talk about the disturbing, though i don't sleep well. i could listen to that man drone on and on for hours, another film to hollow my eyes on. he censors himself so that money can still be milked with the hand. i let myself be content with that translucency. 
it flows over the fingers. i am the waterfall, spewing an eggshell colored silver lining to anyone that might listen. i never said i believed myself, only that growing up is the process of trying to. i suck on a nail, and it tastes of something sweet. something that does not exist within the body. maybe this is the answer. 
here, we ask why men are always depicted as unholy. i think of myself as unholy, just to skim the waters of self-hatred. it is alright, as long as i walk the higher road with my feet bloomed and bound in pointe. i am allowed to think of myself as unholy to this extent, as long as my body can be bent towards whatever angle they want it to serve. 
part of it was slow. part of it was quick. the blade fell down on the head of the chicken, and all was gone with the feathers. this is what they call grief, if i were able to feel it. there was no going back after the town was gutted. the slow part was leaving an apple core by the window to wilt, letting the ceiling entrails slowly spill out as the leak in the rooftop shingles eats it away. it drools out until there was nothing more to trickle. every once in a while, another teardrop would slither down. the house will soon spoil like it always does. 
my hands get torrid with cold weather. this is no poetic picture, no arched spine or craned throat. they bleed and break, although not in that order, and they are not crimson but the color of rust. they resemble perfect imperfection, like the ridges of curdled milk. where a river runs, there will be something to carry the ghost. in this case, it bleeds during the winter and when it is time to make music. this means something is already dead when i smile. 
she says that i can create the most beautiful things. that was a long time ago, when i was a little younger. when everything was a little harder. strange, how the heavier i felt the better i could write. i was milked for my time, i was lost in the tides. 
she says that i create the most beautiful things. i never said i believed her, only that growing up is the process of trying to. 

quiet resounce - evelyn stein

listen to the music while reading for the optimal experience. 

analogies analogies people. an update (?) referencing all sorts of recent things. come to think of it, this is quite similar to the type of writing i frequently wrote in the late spring of last year, though it'd not like anyone would notice. 

i just realized that the poetry competition is starting again. wow, that was around the time i really started getting active around here. it's been a year. everything has changed. 


See History
  • April 6, 2021 - 12:38am (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • First Name Last Name

    just wow, this piece is amazing
    it reads like something that should be engraved on a building or a monologue in a play, its so so so amazing, and the themes that are there throughout the writing make it really just come together, this is definitely one of my favorite pieces i have ever read

    about 1 month ago