i'm moody bc my moon is in gemini mom

kristie | 25 | the void | twitter | writing

[1ittlepeach]

[1ittlepeach]

i wonder if there is a parallel universe where i don't hate my body and my mind isn't rotten and i am an active functioning member of society but in the meantime quick shout out to the spacehog song 'in the meantime' that you all have forgotten about or never heard of i am that forgotten song i am that 90s alternative rock anthem that people say 'hey i know this' in a loud gross bar but they never think about it unless they have to but you have to please i'm here and i'm screaming quietly because i never wish to cause anyone harm i got off track because i have ingested poison that makes my brain hazy and fuzzy and warm it's all fake and chemical and wrong but it's right for right now which is how i decide to live i don't trust anyone without an internet presence sometimes i think i only exist on the internet i am pixels for your entertainment take my pain and sadness and turn it into retweets and validation because i need it i crave it the only thing keeping me on this earth is maintaining my social media and how pathetic is that that is actually the saddest sentence i have ever written and now that i've written it hopefully i will be okay

[cutbu]

[1ittlepeach]

don't fuck with me, 2016

[1ittlepeach]

[1ittlepeach]

here are two things i made during insomnia last night with cool free apps on my cool not free phone: 1. quartz cluster girl hangs out in a cemetery because she can and wants to and because it's where she can be a ghost still in a body 2. very tired and angry alien business thing on vacation who is unable to enjoy the experience because of expense reports and marital problems

[1ittlepeach]

a yawn is just a yawn it's not poetry it means ur tired

[skygrl]

[worldssmallesttrampoline]

[1ittlepeach]

kiss number one

you lived across the street from my grandmother who is and was basically my mother and we played together all summer, getting bug bites and melted ice cream and scrapes from never being able to slow down. one day you took my small pale hand in your slightly larger one and pulled me through the backyard to the dead tree we thought was home to ghosts. why you chose this spot i couldn't figure out, since there was obviously a portal to the other side buried in the rotting wood, but now i realize it was the only place in the backyard we couldn't be seen by my grandmother at the kitchen window. you pushed me up against the tree and its fragile bark crumbled behind my back. you told me 'this is how you show someone you love them' and stuck your wet tongue in my mouth. it tasted like the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches my grandmother made for us earlier that day. later that night my mother picked me up and brought me home and i tried to stick my tongue in her mouth, which she immediately stopped before i could even start. she asked 'why did you do that?' and i said 'because that's how you show someone you love them'

[cockhunt]

[1ittlepeach]

me on paper seems ok and tired which is better than me irl which is not ok and extremely sleep deprived, 2016

[1ittlepeach]

some photos from today and other days: quartz cluster teeth looking down looking up stained fingers

[1ittlepeach]

there is mold floating in the pepsi next to your bed that you left sit for six months in a watermelon glass you rinse out the dark liquid and stubborn fuzz lines the sink it's pale and beautiful but rotten you find it hard to remember that you wipe it away and condemn the sponge unloveable unusable the same thing you consider throwing the cup in the trash you consider throwing the cup out of the window a cat is in the way so you place it in the cabinet instead 'out of sight out of mind' is what they say you trust 'they' even though you don't know who 'they' are two months later you are dying of thirst coughing and half swallowing anxious and hot you've become a desert full of cotton over the course of minutes or hours or days it's become easy to lose track walking to the kitchen feels like it deserves applause you reach for a cup to fill with water that feels holy the minute it hits every shriveled tastebud on your tongue your fingertips leave their mark in curved lines on the slightly chipped watermelon decoration you smile because you are full of water and still alive despite the mold

[1ittlepeach]

Ur hot lets bang in 2k16 bb

i'm actually rly cold my lips and nails are blue freezing to death 2k15

[1ittlepeach]

[molokohouse-deactivated20180927]

Three Poems by Kristie Shoemaker

kristie shoemaker is a twenty four year old writer living in baltimore, maryland. she tries to pretend she is emotionally mature but is failing. her work has been published in such places as gesture, fruita pulp, voicemail poems and most importantly, your heart. you can read more of her writing at twitter.com/1ittlepeach or 1ittlepeach.tumblr.com.

i have never seen the movie ‘water world’ but i have heard bad things

i am made of water and memories i would like to forget

this water forms clouds that take the shapes of these memories

of first kisses and scrapped knees

of fear and isolation

of words afraid to be spoken

these clouds turn gray with molecules filled with a sense of urgency

a desperation to purge

these clouds want to rain

my mouth opens

water pours out

it fills a hole dug with fingers that have grown steady and strong since birth

rain water pours into the hole at my bare feet

and i don’t drown

but i float

and i float

and i float away

princess and the pea two thousand fifteen

i fell asleep on top of my copy of 'the first bad man’

felt like some fucked up version of the princess and the pea

except there wasn’t any produce

only dreamy expectations

the kind people write about in poems like this

there’s a five dollar vodka cloud swirling in the air

hanging precociously over our heads

about to crush us at any moment

i wish that it would

you’re slurring

i’m slurring

it doesn’t matter

i want you to touch me but you won’t

i’m sending you telepathic messages

watered down by alcohol and nerves

i doubt they will reach you but i will continue to try

my heart is beating against the mattress

shaking everything like a earthquake that’s too shy to register

i hope that you get the message

that it’s okay

you can love me

and i will only love you back

just as much, if not more

but i will never admit to that

you breathe heavy when you sleep

each sigh and moan gives me comfort you’re alive

and if i can hear these noises i guess that means i’m alive too

i can hear a woman coughing to the point of puking outside of my window

i wonder how i can be self aware

when i’m more worried about strangers bodily fluids than myself

i should probably sleep

sometimes i think my hair is talking to me

my hair is sentient

it is knotted and angry and dirty

it is growing out and up

inhaling the world and staking it’s claim

it has a vendetta against humanity

it is slowly devouring my body

don’t get too close

or it will entangle you in it’s moss green tentacles

it is the snake and you a small mouse

you never had a chance

it is filling this room

dead cells desperately in denial

refusing to be ignored

my hair has daddy issues

my hair has a strong online presence

my hair has more twitter followers than you

does that make you jealous

it’s bursting through the windows now

it’s tearing down power lines and small animals are calling it home

birds are starting families and regurgitating worms between the strands

rats are nesting, diseased and sleeping between dead ends

my hair wraps itself around the earth ten times

and you will see it from space