Dante Erzähler

a hopeless romantic with too many words and not enough strength in my fingers to share them. he/him/his, lgtbq+ safe space, nsfw/sfw poetry and prose

[dante-erzahler]

Take note of the scratching noises in my chest

Don’t panic when you see the gashes come from within

It’s quite normal to feel this way

Wolves gnawing at my ribs without rest.

Take note of the way I hunch over and cough blood

Don’t panic when my airways sound lacerated

It’s quite normal to feel this way

Wolves gashing my lungs til’ they flood.

Take note of the cracking noises and an uneven anatomy

Don’t panic when a bone stabs through my heart

It’s quite normal to feel this way

Wolves feasting on my writhing and agony.

Take note of how I collapse to the floor

Don’t panic when my breathing subsides

It’s quite normal to feel this way

Wolves bursting their way through each alveoli and pore.

[dante-erzahler]

And it’s in times like this that I wish to love her once, and no one else, like Dracula to his long lost wife. I want my hand to hold hers, caress the back of it with my thumb, and nothing else can replace eternity with her. If that means I live 1000 years without loving again, then so be it; because my one and only true love will always and forever be her.

[dante-erzahler]

I love the art of death.

The art of watching a body decompose,

the flies eventually getting to it,

reproducing foul vermin into an empty vessel.

The art of the dramatic moments

in a movie before a key character perishes,

the fear in their eyes becoming acceptance,

the sobs of others as the b-list actor makes a shitty joke

before their last breath escapes them.

The art of the chase

where the fox finally catches the rabbit,

its fangs sinking into the snowy hide,

the rabbit’s beady eyes hazing over into a foggy grey.

The art of genocide,

the remorse that is allegedly felt and joked about

20 years later as people fall into the depths of apathy

about the attempted eradication of a race.

The art of withering,

the petals of the marigold browning

with the passing time and fluttering

in the breeze onto the sidewalk below.

The art of those final moments

in a hospital bed, the plug about to be pulled

or the monitor falling into a flatline,

the cries and mourns heard from hallways down

when the torment of death hits the ones

who do suffer after the passing.

[dante-erzahler]

i don’t wanna be the blade

or the bandage

or the god they pray to

in their darkest hour

and if I keep dismembering myself

to prove that i am

there will be nothing left of me

that can love you

without bleeding all over my decay

[creekmotel]

[perfectquote]

“Love her like she isn’t already yours.”

— John Mark Green

[dante-erzahler]

Content Warning: Suicidal Ideation, Drug Abuse

On my 21st birthday, I hung myself on the door frame, slamming the rope and jamming it into the top, leashing it around my neck, and kicking the chair from underneath me.

And on my 21st birthday, I drove to the store and bought a surplus of spirits and liquors, downing them all in the car and driving myself straight into a tree at 90 mph.

And on my 21st birthday, I pulled the gun out of the case next to my bed, shakily loaded the magazine, and blew my fucking brains out without a final thought.

And on my 21st birthday, I went on a manic spree and lunged at an officer just so they would kill me instead, leaning into the bullet.

And on my 21st birthday, I drove to the inner city and stole crack from an addict and forced gram after gram into my airways.

And on my 21st birthday, I lost a bet that costed me more than my life savings with the cartel, so they hired someone to take me out.

And on my 21st birthday, I imagined every time I wanted or tried to take my life, but still ended up here anyway, and now I have to get up and pretend I’m happy I made it this far.

[dante-erzahler]

Why the everloving fuck

does stress make me more sick

than covid or mono ever did

and shit—

Mono made me sick for weeks

and I lost 15 pounds

and hurled up steroids

and yet—

Stress is the worst sickness;

I haven't felt this drunk over anxiety

since 2019

when just opening the car door

on a night highway

seemed

appealing to me;

It drains you more

than being milked for the factories

as a cow stuck in what could only be

considered

a fucking shed

and sometimes i feel like

I’m in a worse condition;

But they question why I would feel like this

because allegedly

I have it good

so I should be happy;

And yet it's the small things

that are stressors

and that make me lose my shit

and start the 6 year cycle all

over

again.

[dante-erzahler]

violence isn't the answer.

she said her favourite flowers were lilies,

so i grew them from my own composted rot

she said her favourite colour was green,

so i buried my heart in the moss of the forest

she said her favourite animal was a bunny

so i made my flesh into a soft and loveable pelt

she said her favourite season was spring

so i planted flowers over my grave of inhibitions

she said her favourite time of day was the deep night

so i fell away into darkness, dancing with her in the shadows

before i could finish, she interrupted with a smile,

told me that i need not sacrifice myself for her sake

that she loves me regardless of how i love her,

soft, careful, and devoted does her just fine

so i pick up my bones that fell to the ground, handed

them to her with a sheepish grin, missing teeth

and she still looked at me with starstruck awe in her gaze

as if i was sculpted by michaelangelo himself, and i turned away

but she put each bone back in place, each organ in its home

and kissed me on the forehead and reminded me we’re in this together.

[dante-erzahler]

a reminder to keep nature natural.

[dante-erzahler]

the forest horrors told me i’m doing great, actually

[dante-erzahler]

Weight of Words

“You keep saying that,” she murmurs

as for the hundredth time

I recite the words like scripture

etched into my spine

“Always for you,” I spake,

my tribute to her

A way to confide my faith

and my brain and heart to concur

For if the world fell tomorrow

and I lost my voice today

I would carve the words into my chest

so she can see them anyway

Brand me with the iron of love

until the top layer of my flesh forfeits

“You keep saying that,” she murmurs

“And I keep meaning it.”

[dante-erzahler]

does the suffering actually have an end or do i just have to stare it in the face and tell it to fuck me harder?

[dante-erzahler]

No Better

No better than the father

who vanishes into the grey,

No better than the killer

who hides the blade away.

No better than the cheater

with a cold and deadpan lie,

No better than the mother

who watches her children cry.

I am sorry I failed you,

I am sorry I gave in,

I am sorry for the "it's okay,"

for the mask and for the sin.

I am sorry, 

but your God won’t save me,

and I will never forgive myself.

[dante-erzahler]

i’m a fucking slut for mr. grim. (nsfw warning)

his cloak drips with lust and death, a charade that swirls around me, and i can't escape it. i want to drown in it, in his cold, divine touch, the way he moves, so god damn sure, like he owns the very air i gasp for.

he steps over my broken, bleeding body, and i ache for a desire so deep, 

and it’s raw, it’s primal, i’m not even alive, but i feel it, every inch of him raking through my memory, sensations in my chest a burning brand on the corpse of my desire.

his hands, oh, his hands- god, they’re everywhere, fingers sliding through my blood as if it’s nothing, like it’s fucking lube, and i’m dripping, i’m soaked in it, a crimson mess, a stain, but i don’t care. i need him.

he leans down, his lips brushing my ear, whispering things in that voice, so dark, and filthy, and thick 

with promises of an afterlife

i can’t refuse, i want more, and i just let myself go. every bit of restraint i had? gone. i’m falling, no, i’m plunging into him. into madness.

he picks me up—oh god, my body’s limp, nothing but dead weight, but he holds me, so fucking tight. he owns me. i’m a ragdoll in his hands. every gouge, every pull, i’m nothing but flesh, nothing but his,

and he touched me like no woman ever did.

[dante-erzahler]

Here.

I’m here to listen.

Always.

Never a burden

Never too much.

Always here to listen.

I’ll let other memories flow out

And past lives seep away

Just to say

I’m here to listen.

Eternally.

Even if you never heed my advice

Or anything that I ever tell you

It’s never too much

Never a burden

Eternally here to listen.

I’ll push all of my frustrations down

And apathy will moss over my heart

Just to say

I’m here to listen.

Forever.

Even if my ears fall off

And my eyesight fails

You can grab me by the arm

And trace the letters into my skin

Never a burden

Never too much.

Forever here to listen.

I’ll let my flesh dent from your nails

And bones fray away

Just to say

I’m here to listen.

Always.

Eternally.

Forever.

[dante-erzahler]

A Sonnenizio from Line 1 of Sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; They burn like broken glass, sun magnifying Through crystals on the sun burnt sidewalk, Unable to reckon differences between sun and moon; And yet it’s like as if her sunlit face could reflect; My soul and its sins, the blood the sun allows to shimmer; Reflecting through the haze, sunstricken complexion.

To the Sun, The Moon, The Sun again, Your days traverse by with no beginning or end to them, the sun Rising another day to allow me to see the sun bless her goldenrod gaze, It terrifies me, her beauty, how it never diminishes with the sun setting Beyond the horizon, may you, my sun, dim and sleep, So I may take the time to admire how the sun and moon kissed her cheeks.