A Blinding Call To Prayer @ablindingcalltoprayer - Tumblr Blog

Fuck the small things

Because your friends don’t show up

To the big things.

Life is what happens between cancellations

Caused by fame sicknesses and

A poor case of FOMO.

99% of living is getting bailed on

By your god

By your lawmakers

By your parents

By your lovers

#havent used this in a while #but i need to get some shit OUT #a blinding call to prayer #sums poetry #poetry #poems #sumspoetry #tumblr poets #ablindingcalltoprayer #poem #free verse

There are many times

when I see a friend suffering and

all I want to do is help.

I just want to tell them that

I appreciate their existence,

but I can’t

because I am afraid they will think

I am not being genuine

or speaking my true thoughts.

I have never really felt listened to.

Perhaps that is the issue.

Dirtiest Fucking Thing

Oh you fucking wish you could.

You want to so fucking bad.

I can see it in you

and it makes your skin crawl.

You want to pin me down on your bed on a dark evening

and try things you've only ever wished you could,

but weren't allowed to try.

You want to bite my neck

and leave purple marks on my skin

in secret places.

You'll love how my short hair is easier to pull

to bring all of me with it.

You can be as rough,

and as brash,

and as loud

as you want to be.

You already resent me,

because I'm the one that's

put you in this position.

Told you I love you.

Tell you I love you.

Still. Constantly.

Gazing upon you with wonder in my eyes, with a flutter in my chest;

true emotion,

that I've thrust upon you,

begging you to accept,

and gotten to know you

completely.

We ALWAYS knew it was coming.

And you want to so fucking bad.

You wanna fuck me, that's okay.

Let's do it.

Let's make it the dirtiest fucking thing you've ever seen.

We can beat the fuck out of

each other, I don't care!

Because, maybe if we scratch and bite in one area of our relationship,

we'll stop kicking and screaming

In the other.

#tags him in this #01/31/17 #poems about sex?#tumblr poets #sums poetry #poems #poetry

My honey refers to me in the third person,

she and her, but I do too.

When it's hard to find where I'd be in my brain,

depersonalization gives more meaning to my tattoo.

A part of me wishes you styled with different effort,

because that part of me dreamed of being a person of extremes.

I used to be the slut to smirk

when I kissed a girl after I got a new piercing.

I'm grateful you have meat on your bones and hair on your face.

I tell you I love with confidence that scares me,

the last person I said that to

didn't seem to care for me.

Of course there's pros and cons to everyone.

The ones in you I've never seen before.

My Ramona, that watches out for the holes in me,

delivering my unwritten love letters directly to his own door.

#my love #my strong counterpart #my loving stewart #poems #tumblr poets #sums poetry #6/28/17

What love is

I can’t decide what love is

I’ve gotten it from weird places

And given it to strange people

But I still don’t understand it.

I’m sitting here

alone at night with four clocks ticking above me and it’s midnight.

Somehow it’s still lighter outside than in here.

A lot of things are brighter than what’s in here.

Though I can’t decide how bright the inside of me is.

Some minutes throughout the day

I wish I was dead so badly that I smile at the thought of never having existed.

I look at the backward moving clock like it’s gonna give me answers

and wish I had never gone anywhere or done anything.

But then sometimes, like last night, I have dreams where it’s only me and you.

The sun in your smile sheds some light on my hopeless insides

but there are still things brighter than what’s inside here.

I think love is just to choose it.

To look at the flaws in something bright,

to see through the misunderstanding you created,

to share your shine back with the one who loves you.

I LOVE YOU.

I love the hopelessness that trapped me until you laughed so loud it got scared away.

I love the anxiety that kept me from leaving too soon, because I would’ve never seen you if you hadn’t picked my favorite bad guy to stand next to one day.

I love the dark clouds that follow me around because the warmth in your embrace convinces them to hold off a little while.

I’ll never know what love is.

But I love that I don’t have to.

#poetry #poems #tumblr poets #what love is #love poems #my love #true love #my wonderful man #my strong counterpart #my loving stewart

wordsnquotes

On the journey to myself I’ve been so many people.

Indigo Williams (via wordsnquotes)

hush-syrup

The writer’s job is to get the main character up a tree, and then once they are up there, throw rocks at them.

By Vladimir Nabokov (via hush-syrup)

ipoetried

Excerpt from Karys Peterson’s first poetry book SOFT GIRL.

‘SOFT GIRL’ is ON SALE (5$ off RIGHT NOW) if you buy TODAY here! Enjoy poetry by k.p.k, as seen on tumblr.com!

coldely-deactivated20210320

On the last day of the world perhaps I will let out what I have held in. Perhaps I will have the bravery to do something about being a coward my entire life. I would catch the first flight to California to see the ocean one last time. I'd glue my heart back together then throw it out to sea in a glass bottle bought from a jukebox shop with a note that reads "for no one but myself" -- On the last day of the world I'll hold your hand and watch the light grow brighter.

January

My love takes a pipe into the shower. And my love's skin is porcelain, heavy, and fragile. There's parts of me that are that way too. So devastated. I'm begging to make the feelings stop. Please, god, make it stop. I don't want to smile when I think about him. Please, god, make it stop. I don't want to feel my heart break every night. Please, god, make the butterflies go away. Chase them with lions of rage and hate, or at least some feeling that I'm not feeling yet. When time ticks on and a year flies by so ungracefully and so uninvited, I'm shocked that I am left here still standing. I'm begging you to make the feelings stop. My love laughs silently when he finds something hilarious, and he touches you like he truly cares. But he DOESN'T. A fool couldn't tell the difference and sometimes I am a fool. So sometimes I scream inside my head for my love to touch me, and somehow my love understands. Then there's two bare chests resting on eachother and two tones of brown hair slightly tangled together. Two pairs of hands without supervision making plenty of bad decisions makes for an emotional night. My love is the one that started it though, right? I can't blame myself. But I do. Everyday. Thats why I beg for the feelings to stop. That's why I hate hope, because I had too much of it once and it ruined my sensors. Now the machine part of me is malfunctioning and my love takes a pipe into the shower so innocently, but it kills me.