so as some of you know i just got a poem published in a book
and
they pulled a fast one on me
like WHY DID THEY DO THIS
for reference this is a poem about like, the void in my psyche and stuff its super profound and my favorite
AND THEY PUT IT ON PAGE 69 IN THE SECTION "INSIDE OF ME"
WHY
tagging moots just bc
Something i wrote (late) for @two-bees-poetry Day 20: Hollow Bones
“Vividly brilliant, flashing in opalescent fractals and blinding every waking eye that dares to lay gaze upon it. A glittering brightness that puts diamonds to shame and ocean waves to their knees and reflects the world too bright in every facet.
Blindingly beautiful, a painful protection of its true self, twisting and reflecting through prisms of light and blissful wonder to hide and obscure the shattering truth behind its mystic nature.
The painful reflections of the most inner self, turned towards a blinded eye that remains ignorant to the meaning of the song, of the phrase born of pain and destruction.
Diamonds glitter, but they’re borne of pain and sculpted through shimmering blood.”
-Coruscated
“Spiraling, falling, drowning in the darkness in the pit of my stomach or the hollow of my diaphragm or the chambers within my everbeating heart
Something is missing inside me, the emptiness clawing its way out, tearing through bone and vein and skin with claws so sharp, cutting with the absence of *something*.
It’s an ever gnawing hunger for a feeling, a phrase, a passing night where something happens to fill the void in my lungs and my ribs and the gaps of every joint.
It’s an all consuming mass of pitch that will never see the light of day, no matter how much light or ominous positivity fills every nook of my body to soften the blows of the deep dark that eats and craves and *consumes* me greedily, never satiating.
Never satisfied.”
-Ghough
-Kudoclasm
“You don’t know why they leave they just do
Trusted family members, classmates, friends you meet on vacation
It’s all temporary love and validation until you’re out of sight
And the new person comes along for them to throw their attention onto
You’ll miss them, of course. You always miss them.
Not matter how much the absence hurts
No matter how many times you’re left staring at your phone, waiting for a call or a text back
Some acknowledgment that they miss you as much as you miss them
As much as you miss their laugh, their smile, the terrible jokes they told you under the slide at recess
As much as you miss the years running in the fields, sticky from the wet air and the lingering smell of bug spray
That never seems to come out of your rain jacket.
You’ll miss the countless hours you spent talking about crushes and birthday parties and how you’ll both leave this place one day to find out who you truly are.
But they left without you and found out who they needed to be in the world.
You’re both a ghost in the other’s life, a haunting memory of the promises and what-ifs and could-have-beens
That never had been but would be if you had just tried harder.
If they hadn’t moved away. If you never left that beach trip where you met them. If you stayed in the attic drinking cheap spirits and remembering that time you both tripped and skinned your knees on the sidewalk when you were six.
But now it’s just nights in the bathroom crying, wishing, regretting ever trying to move on and forget the good times and the intense feeling of abandonment sitting in the deep pits of your chest, nestled in every cranny of your soul, ceeeping, settling, waiting for any moment of vulnerability.
It makes you a prisoner within your own memories, trying to make you bring back the dead.”
-Temporary
-Decay
-Like Your Saints Do
-Six Feet Under
"My mom once told me That we inherit fears I didn't believe her But now I look back and remember How my brother used to rush to the car Because he was scared they'd leave without him They never did But I remember mom's stories of her mom Who would drop her off at her aunts without a word for months But take her siblings with her."
"I see it in myself now, too Every time my parents raise their voices, I brace for a hit They've never hit me They say they never will But part of me still doesn't believe them I remember my dad telling me how his dad's ring would dig into the back of his head And my mom how her step-dads belt felt And I know why I lie with such precision To the point that I have the reputation of a bad liar Little do they know I lie to stop the hit that will never come."
-Our Fears
