violentxdelights

poetry/prose fragments, musings, and ramblings xx 🥀 all work is original unless noted otherwise

[blushingxpilgrims]

whatever i touch, i break—

not with physical force

but with emotional intensity

— midas touch: reversed, 2023

[poetrywillsaveme]

“But love is impossible and it goes on despite the impossible. You’re the muscle I cut from the bone and still the bone remembers, still it wants (so much, it wants) the flesh back, the real thing, if only to rail against it, if only to argue and fight, if only to miss a solve-able absence.”

— Ada Limón, ‘In a Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me’ in Bright Dead Things: Poems

[blushingxpilgrims]

he wants to know me

(and i want to let him)

[sidneysheldon]

Sidney Sheldon, “Master of the Game”

[oditorie]

[moonstoast]

yes & no by natalie wee

[perriaeyjeve]

[oldwinesoul]

[blushingxpilgrims]

THE ROTTING

Like poison

Like bliss

A persistent ache

Between the shoulder blades

I’m always too late

What if my anatomy

Is against me?

(I once read we start to die

the minute we are born)

I am of the in-between

Doomed duality

I’m going to say this directly

Through clenched teeth:

you terrify me

Boneless

It happens when

You look at me

One day

I’ll tell you everything

[blushingxpilgrims]

i wanted to tell him i loved him on a saturday night

but the time wasn’t right

he was hurting inside

and the words were caught in my throat

eight years too late

one night too soon

so i sat and watched the way he came to life

as he moved under the lights

through the night

hands above his head

do you know what you’ve done?

what you’ve become

to me?

i sit, sit

quietly

if anyone asks

this is where i’ll be

— i wanted to tell him i loved him on a saturday night; 2025

[pink-heart-writes]

[blushingxpilgrims]

cleaved in two,

i yearn for you

—yearning, 2025

[blushingxpilgrims]

i don’t have much to say

other than the way you talk

the way you move is unfair

compared to my

spider-like tendencies

i want to splinter and devour

weave and consume

eight legs sprouting from my head

six to grasp it all

and two to hold onto you

though you were never mine to lose

—spider-like, 2025

[weltenwellen]

Ono no Komachi & Izumi Shikibu, tr. by Jane Hirshfield & Mariko Aratani, The Ink Dark Moon: Love Poems by Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu, Women of the Ancient Court of Japan

[blushingxpilgrims]

i was born two months prematurely in a hospital room i have no recollection of. i’m told i came out screaming. who could blame me? the first cry is symbolic, i suppose. “a good sign!” strong lungs. life outside the womb. a healthy transition. what do they know? i’d say it’s a premonition for future grief. i’m still kicking and screaming, lungs heaving, trying to get the words out.

—BIRTH, 2025

[blushingxpilgrims]

[blushingxpilgrims]

to love is to spill your guts, right?

idk. i wrote a poem about it though.

read here: https://medium.com/@alizajgarza/the-autopsy-2da833848aa2?sk=7878c125247ebef29712fb01a663a8cb

xx

The Autopsy

A poem