To Run Away

moved to anonymouslyhidden

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

hey guys just want to say thank you for following me on here

But this is a side blog and I’m not really feeling that anymore, so you can find me at anonymouslyhidden.tumblr.com I’ll reblog this a few times throughout the week, just so you know. The new blog will mainly be my poetry, but maybe some inspiration stuff too? Photography and mythology and things. We’ll see. Thanks again for taking the time to read my poetry and for enjoying it enough to follow me!

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

hey guys just want to say thank you for following me on here

But this is a side blog and I’m not really feeling that anymore, so you can find me at anonymouslyhidden.tumblr.com I’ll reblog this a few times throughout the week, just so you know. The new blog will mainly be my poetry, but maybe some inspiration stuff too? Photography and mythology and things. We’ll see. Thanks again for taking the time to read my poetry and for enjoying it enough to follow me!

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

girls who r not sad bc they r gay//girls who get happy endings w/ the girl & life 2 see the end of their story & it finishes w/ laughter+smiles//instead of blood+gravestones//blood on ground/in lungs/on bed/in mouths//

girls like ancient gods//torn from each others arms//ichor only revealed gold bc its spilling out her & on floor//stains.//girls like prayers where palms touch//when sunlights kisses horizons//when stars sing in sky//

girls who deserve more than coffins/tears/lips that dont know 2 love/camera shots when shes forced 2 walk//away.//

girls like girls//girls like girls & dont die/dont cry/dont become plot device instead of person//girls like girls//& can b gay w/out gore//w/out losing love//w/out crucifixes hung upside down//

girls like holy/like scripture/like blessings over candles//they r grace+divinity+starlight//girls=galaxies//

girls who r not sad bc they r gay

[nosebleedclub]

Discussion 4/8/16

1. What makes a community great? 2. Accessibility (in literature, art, etc.) 3. Mediterranean 4. Current Project 5. Selfhood

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

1. //SAFETY//i didnt know trust til i met seven kids in high school//in small amounts i whisper them everything

2. To think, without accessibility, what if some greatnesses of science had never been reached?

3. a cruise my grandmother took//she brought back stones from the sea

4. a poem worthy to transport me abroad

5. coming into my/self—there are still places of fat i pinch/bind/hide/disguise, and there are words i can never use, but i have also found some to tattoo along my tongue

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

Mysticism and spiritualism and wandering through life without ever truly feeling the world around you—mystic: of or relating to mystics or religion; inspiring a sense of spiritual mystery. Cicadas in the summer, the heat pooling across your skin as the breeze sluggishly pushes the sun beneath the horizon, or the stickiness of popsicles on your hands and mouth, staining the sweet taste as it melts.

The use of your senses, an awakening to the world—I was seven when I decided not to fall asleep one night. Hands out-stretched, reaching for something for which I had no name, I prayed to the first prodigal son, the one who never returned.

Asking if he was sorry, if he desired forgiveness, if he felt any trace of remorse, I designated one hand for ‘yes’ and one for ‘no,’ not expecting any answer, though hopeful.

One hand heated, warmth pressing into my palm, distinctly hotter than my other. YES. He had answered, nearly nine years ago, and this moment, this experience others call LIAR, other call IMPOSSIBLE, others call YOU’RE REMEMBERING IT WRONG, IT WAS A DREAM, DO NOT SPEAK OF WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW, was my first brush with a spirituality I have only touched briefly since, chasing after it like the comet’s tail, unable to truly reach what is sought.

What my eyes could not tell me, my hands could. What my eyes cannot see, my tongue tastes, my nose smells, my ears hear.

What eyes cannot detect, others deem FALSE.

[nosebleedclub]

Prompts One - Five 1. Your mother claims she saw a ghost at the supermarket. 2. The sound the inside of your head makes when you’re trying to fall asleep. 3. The man down the street collects cats, emerald bottles, and broken tiles in his front yard. 4. Moonlight that spills and sticks like snow. 5. I don’t like visiting my grandmother anymore. She scares me. #nbdoescamp

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

1. ‘did you see that?’ ‘i could’ve sworn …’ ‘Michael, we should go’ ‘Michael, lock the doors’ ‘Michael, drive’

2. {do you remember do you remember DO YOU REMEMBER EVERYTIME YOU SHOULD’VE DONE SOMETHING ELSE EVERYTIME YOU MADE A MISTAKE EVERYTIME PEOPLE LIED ABOUT WANTING YOU AROUND—} static screams||still to silence

3. he hangs the bottles in the trees with fairylights & sings with a low babbling brook voice= scratches on rocks/smooth on stones & have you seen his mosaics of scraped knees and broken halos? Everyone Knows Cats Actually Own Their People

4. //light behind eyelids//restless midnights//running on starlight//sleepsleepsleepSLEEPGODDAMMIT// the house serene while everyone sleeps //weren’t you once afraid of the dark?//

5. alphabet soup banned. too many acronyms. replaced by bibles. white picket fence apple pie life means girl/boy not they/them, not nonbinary&girl fall in love. she closes the shutters once the clouds clear to rainbows.

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

Girls who are not Sad because they are Gay

these girls are ancient gods meeting after having been torn from each other for centuries after centuries for centuries//these girls run their hands over each others hips//know how to kiss//know how to smile//know how to talk so neither of them cry//these girls laugh like mountaintops greeting rising suns//these girls are rising suns//they take what they deserve with their burning palms//burning bright with love for each other because they know how to love happy//love beautiful but not tragic//love without tears//love strong and lively and alive//these girls take what they deserve//hold onto it by the skin of their teeth//they do not cry except while cutting onions for dinner//and their parents smile when the two invite both families to eat//no one is disapproving of who they are//neither girl hates herself//they are happy

two girls love each other and do not die because of it

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

what can a poet offer a princess? what could I possess that you pursue? I persevere, try pursuit of play-writes able to pull pristine prose from their minds without a problem. Instead, I find poring over their pieces simply proves I am no prodigy.

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

some describe as a storm a strike of power instant, yet temporary in its existence. but should it be so; have you seen trees once struck by lightning? sand? the power leaves its presence known, and none can mistake it.

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

how do you call yourself a poet when writing when it really matters is impossible? how can you be a writer when your pages dwindle and even as you look at all you’ve written over the years, is it enough? is it good enough? are you? if you cannot consistently prepare your queue to post three times a day, even when school is out for a week—how are you a writer if you do not write? a poet if you cannot write? what has happened that so drastically changed whether or not you can be who you claim you are?

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

And unfinished poetry because how can you describe someone so amazing so beautiful that you cannot capture them in poetry? Try as you might, it’s like catching stars in butterfly nets, wide-eyed innocence with empty hands. Do you see? Do you see them? No you don’t because the sky has swallowed the smoke and the ash to save us and now we are left with black skies filled with more people than stars more mortality than divinity because don’t you get it?

We were never meant to see eternity.

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

gold rings//faux jewelry// fake smiles// ARE WE EVEN REAL

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

GIRL WALKS THROUGH HELL, MARCHES THROUGH PURGATORY, STALKS TO GOD’S DOOR SHE SPEAKS TO GOD, SPEAKS TO THE DEVIL, SPEAKS TO THE MONSTERS, BEGS FOR AN ANSWER TO HER QUESTIONS BUT SHE IS GIVEN NO RESPONSE

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]

there are a million things i could be doing but instead i’m just sitting here thinking about a girl sleeping in china holding three of my chapbooks because my heart couldn’t make it past security ‘cause it’s too focused on self-destruction to be pretty and tells too many stories of the apocalypse to be wanted and too covered in ink to be viable—

i just feel like i’m drowning and there is no surface there never was a surface it’s just a lie we told ourselves to we felt like we wouldn’t suffocate as we slept—i’m sorry i’m sorry i just can’t feel anything beyond the pounding in my head and the screams coming from the walls

[ahidingplaceforquietwords]