nothing can harm me anymore

i'm all the way at the top, why do i feel so fucking empty? // main blog: just-dont-leave

[tenderbeasts-deactivated2019101]

                Carnivorous saints and the merciful newly devoured                                                        Joey Potter         An ode, a funeral hymn and a summoning dedicated to saints and                                                                        sacrifice 

[aharboredcollectionofthoughts]

Over my shoulder, there are a few ghosts. Some of them whisper my name into my ear as if it holds forever, and some of them just say baby, as if I should be reduced to such a thing. My head, all day, has been spinning. I’m trying to make sense of it, trying to make sense of you, drawing constellations out of people and out of interactions I was never a part of, drawing feeling and emotion out of the mispronounced significance my brain is telling me must mean something- and I just stop. Know that I am afraid. Not of the ghosts, but of the thought of you becoming one of them.

[disremembering]

Three years have gone by and still the death clouds loom The acid rain is desperate to fall It’s especially windy today, and I fear the clouds may finally blow away Truth is, over time I’ve come to love the overcast skies, the constant fear Now I can’t help but hope that the clouds stick around

So I’ve built a shrine in my closet -- built it up with healing crystals and butterflies Plastic bags and a jar of your eyes Maybe if I concentrate hard enough my wishes will come true ... that’s laughable, isn’t it? All of the sudden I’m a child again, all new and naive to the world As if love could return from ashes As if Mother Earth could be willed into submission Now I know more than ever that you cannot change Her course She is merciless and takes what must be taken Just like She took everyone from me (And when I say everyone, I mean you)

So I suppose it’s all in good faith that the death clouds should leave Perhaps when they do I’ll finally learn how to forget about you I used to think that three years was a long time, but now it’s not near enough If I could kill time, I would a thousand times over  Until I find a way to fix the course that it has taken and get you back into my life But it’s true that time can’t be conquered -- I’ve already tried Now all that I can do is listen to the wind howl at the yellow moon

// 1.1.18 // (g.h.)

[achingchest]

“THE DANGERS OF FALLING OUT OF A TOXIC LOVE: 1. you’ll want to wear red lipstick, make artwork on foreign bodies, and make out with all of your friends who have ever called you pretty. 2. you'll want to give them teeth marks as a warning against falling in love– they won’t feel it because they are too busy enjoying it, but the next morning, their whole bodies will be numb. 3. think of the former: you with him. remember how it feels. think tiring, the way it feels to love in circles around someone who keeps running. 4. you’ll want the alcohol to burn through you. it never will. you’ll want the cigarettes to make you die before you want to live. 5. you can’t live like that. he is poison. he is sadness. there is a difference between giving up and being brave. don't think you can ever be too harsh when it comes to your heart. 6. it’s so scary to let someone else in. i am so proud of you because this is when you know it’s over– when his conscience isn’t on your shoulder anymore. i want you to know it’s okay. 7. it’s okay to kiss someone else. it’s okay if boys become yellow lights you speed through. he is not the police. he can’t stop you. 8. know the difference between you and him: you don't have to sleep with someone to know you are powerful. you do it because you want to.”

— the dangers of falling out of a toxic love (via achingchest)

[s0ftstars-blog]

i was always child with crooked teeth and tongue too big for my mouth. reach down past my tonsils and you’ll find old remnants of syllables from a name i do not know. i’m still learning to grow into my skin. mother tells me to walk upright- arch your shoulder blades into mountains. stretch your fingers out like rivers. you, child of earth. i grew from the roots up, like all living things, but like all living things i am imperfect. some days you can find me on the side of the road heaving with it. the IMPERFECT. i’m learning to be loud. i’m learning to let myself feel it all. the ugly and unloveable. it builds character. some days you can find me in the shallows. up to my ankles in the good. - i surrender myself to the earth i grow from the roots up, like all living things 2.18.18

[wildfairy]

i woke up early enough this morning that everything was still silent. the sky was that untranslatable kind of blue. so for once i’m thinking about floating instead of drowning. this is a quiet poem. the wolf comes with its tail between its legs, no teeth bared. these words are learning how to tuck themselves in at night. my hands aren’t falling asleep at the wheel and i haven’t heard an ambulance siren in days. if everything heads south for the winter except for me, maybe that’s okay. i can learn how to sleep while the tides are screaming and the wind is screeching. this is a quiet poem. the leaves are bleeding enough for the both of us. if the flowers are drooping, i don’t need to. i can write about the sky without wanting to dissolve into it. the blue girl is hibernating. i am untranslatable, intangible. my wolf lungs will sleep soundly tonight. i will not grow fangs this autumn. this is a quiet poem. the sky is unshakable and i am taking notes.

Unyielding & Unflinching, Angelea Lowes (via wildfairy)

[misunderstoodramblings]

The Process Of Letting Go

1. Cry so hard your hands go numb, your breath comes in short bursts and you’ve gone through a whole box of tissues.

2. Throw yourself into any other distraction — the gym, excessive online shopping, sleeping all day, writing poems at night or singing along to Bob Dylan.

3. Pretend you’ve let go. Convince everyone that you’re over him, that you don’t remember the way it felt when his body aligned to yours at night, or the way his hair looked when he first woke up in the morning or that you swore to everyone you met that he’d be the one you’d marry.

4. Hold on a little bit longer, remind yourself that he will be back when he’s comes to his senses.

5. Wish on stars.

6. Pray for the first time in years.

7. Go see a psychic. Believe her kind eyes when she holds your hands and tells you he is the one; nod greedily as she tells you that your paths will cross before the end of the year, as long as you promise to work on your communication skills.

8. Try and fail at dating.

9. Eat ice cream, but avoid his favorite flavor.

10. Get ready on a random Sunday morning, do your hair for the first time in weeks, and go to your old favorite places hoping to run into him.

11. Realize that letting go isn’t a ten step process; let go when your hands no longer shake from the emptiness, let go when you can finally sleep through the night without waking up screaming, let go when you can take a deep breath and it doesn’t hurt;

Let go when you’re ready. This is your process, your timeframe. No one is judging you.

-C.A.

[hazyaffection]

Memory: I’ve burn them but I still keep the ashes in the edge of my bed. [MEMORY HIT BACK: I’LL BURN YOU EVEN MORE] Memory: Why do you make me feel like I had to forget you to be okay again? Why do I have to turn everything into nothing? [MEMORY HIT BACK: STOP DRAMATIZING, IT WAS NOTHING IN THE FIRST PLACE] Memory: On my walls are clocks from different memory lane, all going backwards. One is where i fell in love. Two is the doubt. Three is when we left each other. The rest is me trying to be okay with absence. Memory: It has a sharp edge and it glides always from the good one to the bad one until everything’s bad now. Everything’s bad now but I let it glides all over me every time. [MEMORY HIT BACK: YOU ARE THE ONE WHO HOLD THE END OF THIS KNIFE. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO GLIDES ME] Memory: I’m sorry but I need to evict you out of this room. You’re taking too much space. Been awhile since the last time you pay rent. I had too much of the better things lately. I had no space left for you. [MEMORY HIT BACK: THANK GOD, THIS ROOM IS A BAD PLACE]

hazyaffection // I HAD A TALK WITH MEMORY, I SAID IT’S BEEN A PLEASURE, PLEASE GET OUT (via hazyaffection)

[kafkaesque-world]

December 17. Empty days.

Franz Kafka, from The Blue Octavo Notebooks (via kafkaesque-world)

[pleaseburnthisafteryoureadit]

that’s the thing about being an addict. you always believe that you can just give up whenever you want. you are so convinced that you want it. that you are choosing this over and over and over. while it destroys you, you convince yourself it’s holding you together. you are not cocaine, or vodka, or sex. but i inhale your lies like nicotine. i inject your apologies into my veins. and i swallow your narcissistic tendencies like my 14th shot of vodka. the difference between an addict and somebody who is drowning, is the person who is drowning knows it. but you are an expert at sorry and always keeping the lines blurry. and i don’t believe you can drown in anything but water.

“addicted to you” k.m.k (via pleaseburnthisafteryoureadit)

[lovvur]

“

i’m dizzy and i can’t breathe and i just want you to hold me. i can’t remember the last time you were here, probably because you never were.

the realization that i’m never good enough for you hits me like the first time i thought about kissing you.

breathing is hard when you’re ripping out your own lungs, and the blood rushing through your body is the only thing you can hear, and you’re almost out you’re almost out. you’re not really over it.

be my friend, be my friend, be my friend, is a mantra in my head. i need to remind myself that i am the only person i have. i’m the only person that will love me. but i keep messing up and, how do you love someone who never does anything right?

this feels like falling and i hope it means i’ll be okay. i’m never going to be okay, and it will always be my own fault.

i can’t remember the last time i existed, probably because i never did. and that realization hits me even harder.

”

— i relapsed and everything is bad again

[poeticallyemm]

(love)    i let him inside last night, it was cold, the blood on the living room carpet is mine not his, his chipped china face shouldn’t be there, his sing-song voice shouldn’t echo where it doesn’t belong. he shouldn’t belong here.     (lover)    i let him closer to my heart than any other childhood memory martyr, any other missing fragment, fractured glass shard fingernails digging into flesh, this mighty muscle has become so raw i doubt healing will be an option.    (loved)    i miss him.  i miss feeling fields of strawberry lips swaying, lulling me to sleep in his arms, strong trees that planted roots among my own. “its only dirt” he’d said, but this dirt was my only home.    (lost.)     i can’t plant flowers here anymore. his roots sucked the soil dry, void of happiness, i can’t grow gardens anymore. spots of orange light still shine through drawn curtains, but the setting sun is not enough. this isn’t enough. it was never enough. i was never enough.

poeticallyordinary; Love, Lover, Loved, Lost. (via poeticallyordinary)

[haleyincarnate]

1. Make it Halloween night. Turn yourself inside out with loneliness, and plan to go home to an empty bed.

2. Match with a boy on Tinder. The one who calls himself an “optimistic existentialist”. One who peels back the rind of your clementine mind and asks you out to a bar when you’re off work. You will accept.

3. Confession: boy is only here for the night. Your heart will wince, but will quickly regain composure. You will not be afraid to bleed fascination tonight.

4. Together you will joke about knocking the thousand-dollar paintings on the wall from their hooks and having to pay for more than just alcohol. He will ask you what some of your favorite places in Virginia are, and you will trip over your own tongue trying to find a way to describe how this bar, in this moment, with him, is the most content you’ve ever felt in your home state.

5. Bond over smoking American Spirits outside of the bar. Discover he has two younger siblings. Two of his fingers were cut off and stitched back into place when he was three. In the US, his favorite place he’s visited is California. He rock climbs. He’s an Aries. His full name sounds like classical song you’d play on repeat. He’s got a smile that could crumble mountains, and then rebuild them. Eyes like a hurricane you’d be happy to stand in the eye of.

6. Inside at the table again, he will take your hand in his and slip the hair tie from your wrist, saying he’s keeping it. You will grin idiotically and respond with, “good, remember me”.

7. At this point, he will kiss you, and it will feel like renewal. It will feel like the world stopping and spinning too fast all at once, and you will love the thrill of it. You will admire the dizzying way he makes your heart drunkenly stumble around inside your chest. You will be hungover in the morning but at this point, nothing will matter more than his lips.

8. Drink two rounds and split the last between one another.

9. He will lean in close, apologize for being so forward, and then invite you back to his hotel for the night. You will say yes, with barely any hesitation.

10. You will follow this boy on the interstate like a predator chasing prey, but in all actuality, you are the one who is going to get hurt. You always are.

11. When you get to the hotel room, the bed becomes an altar. You sacrifice yourself to him, and he, you. You wonder if the closeness will last even after he boards his flight tomorrow. For now, you are pleading to a god you don’t believe in to let it stay.

12. Boy went to catholic school but there’s nothing holy about him. He whispers “goodnight” in the hollow of your ear and it sounds like a prayer. You will find yourself mouthing “amen” when you eventually fall asleep.

13. When you wake up curled around his body before the sun has risen, you are locked in place; a statue, holding tightly to the last bit of time you have left with him. If the hotel room didn’t feel cold earlier, it does now.

14. You lie there for a time that seems too short. You start to crack under the weight of knowing you might not see him again.

15. He walks you out to your car shirtless in the chilly November morning and you memorize the curves of his shoulders, his chest, his hips. The few freckles that pepper his skin. The way his forehead felt against your soft kiss when you held him to your chest the night prior. You pull him close, rather forcefully; you kiss him again, and again, and again. And then, you watch him walk away into a void of uncertainty.

THE DOCUMENTATION OF HOW TO FALL FOR A BOY YOU SHOULDN’T IN FIFTEEN STEPS // Haley Hendrick

[boykeats]

trans man writes a sonnet to himself

i pretend to wear my body like midnight wears moon, like symphony wears eighth note, like god wears one lone tabernacle. but i am not god. i’m a man beating

against the windowpanes of my smallness, wanting shattered glass for my bright deliverance. how could i forget every time i let my tongue taste the word ‘thrive’

& knew it applied to me always? o heart, i can be fearsomely wondrous now, sing tectonic hymns of myself now, even if i am early on in the passage of becoming,

regardless of if i am only river clay donning this guise of blood for a brief moment.

[disremembering]

You were supposed to be here

We were supposed to be wrapped in each other’s arms on Sunday afternoons Instead, I’m trapped in this stuffy bedroom clawing at the walls Praying for you to come back to me through some kind of miracle Even though neither of us believes in miracles

You were never supposed to leave You were supposed to wait until I was ready for you to come back to me I’ve been waiting patiently but you’re a thousand miles away in a different city And you’ve got another life without me

I was supposed to be happy I was supposed to be living the life I always dreamed Instead, I have this constant aching feeling Like something’s missing from me

// 10.28.17 // (g.h.)

[tenderbeasts-deactivated2019101]

He’s there 4 months before the world ends.  Rides into town with nothing but his heart beat (and he’s lucky to have that) you could taste the apocalypse on the his mouth, cherry coke and something of every town he’d burned through. The town strays kicked up dust with their paws as he drove his dirty truck -Bumper sticker after bumper sticker- the only place he hadn’t been was heaven- through town, giving chase in the way only a dog knows how.  

He meets the love of his life in a telephone booth, asking directions even if there was only one way in one way out and that if you kept driving you’d get where you needed to go.  Love of his life had skinned knees, never outgrew them, love of his life had more freckles than he could ever count, love of his life had a spitfire mouth that could chastise God and he never was a believing man until he met him. 

He’s still there when the world ends- as if the world isn’t always ending somewhere- something unlovable about the night, holding hands with something god-touched and furious. Today Heaven never had a better name.  

Inspired by the lyric ‘Hand in unlovable hand’ -No children by the mountain goats 

-Joey Potter // Novel tag 12/10/2017 

[kieranking]

i know why icarus fell

i have spent my life in the dark and deep the whispers of old gods were my cradle songs the bone-crunch of their steps lead me home you are not like them you sing of words and worlds i cannot comprehend you are blinding, brighter than any sun you are not for the likes of me my moon-bleached hands my eyes so sensitive to the light i reach for you anyway on wax and feather wings i press closer you rejoice, i think, at my nearness the ear-shattering cries are either joy or agony my blistering hands grasp at your light my wings, meant for cold places, drip onto my face oh my love, won’t you catch me?

-e.a.m