Writer's Block

Sometimes I'm a writer.

[astrum-somniator]

I want to rip my heart out, spill the black goo of fear, then sew it back in. I want to lay at night fearless for the monsters that shall visit me every night for the rest of my life. I want to stare into the eye of fear and spit in it. My eyelids are shields, my hands are my guns, my breath is the morse code, and my heart is the military spy waiting to give my battle secrets away to the monsters because they need new tactics. Now there is a new monster and he stands just tall enough to meet my gaze, his eyes are mouths waiting to swallow my soul as his lips are lies inbedded in flesh. He has my fears locked in the safe where his guts should be and my pleas are the lining of his lungs. His fingers are knives to cut me to bits so he can examine them to see the secrets spilling through my veins and his heart is a black hole that swallows everything just to turn it into nothing. This monster appeared years ago but we just met, we already walk a line of me fleeing like an antelope in the African plains while he waits so he can chase me down just like the lions and tigers that we assume are animals but they are us. We have the jackals, the minnows, the bears, the wolves, and the alligators, except they aren’t in the suits we named them, they walk among us. I can feel the blackness rising in my chest as I choke on the letters of the alphabet that will soon mean nothing to me as I am a corpse. I can feel the fire burning into me as the monster feeds off of my fear and anguish. I can feel the tearing of my soul as it’s ripped out along with my spine. I feel the lack of gravity as I blink my eyes for the last few times and admit that this entire race of the tortoise and the hare was nothing but a staring contest of two souls with not enough to lose.

[astrum-somniator]

i find it terrifying

that i will lay down

cry until i can’t breathe

and get up

to act like nothing is wrong

because apparently

i would rather

rely on myself

who has failed me

too many times

than anyone else

and then

wonder why

nothing is changing

[existential--writersblock-blog]

I was 13 the first time I smoked a cigarette. My best friend handed me one and told me I wouldn't feel quite as sad if I smoked one. She was right, in an odd way, but the habit eventually faded away, just like she did. I was 15 the second time I started smoking, when another friend bought me a pack of Marlboro's. She handed them to me and told me I looked like I could use them. She was right, in an odd way, but once again the habit died just like our friendship. I'm 17 now, and I've started smoking again. My boyfriend handed me one of his and told me to stop thinking so much. It's becoming an awful habit and now I'm afraid this is going to end just like all the others did.

just another addict

[existential--writersblock-blog]

There will never be anyone else like you. No one will ever make me feel the way you did, and that’s what hurts the most.

no one

[existential--writersblock-blog]

"She tasted like cherries. Every time I kissed her, she tasted like cherries." He murmured, shrugging and looking down at his hands. "With the reddest lips and the sweetest kiss, you never would've thought she could be so mean."

excerpt from a book I'll never write (D.L.)

[existential--writersblock-blog]

I feel like I am surrounded by ghosts. Not the kind that you expect, but people who have long since left me but their memory is so haunting, and I don't know how long it will take to finally forget them, or if maybe I will take them to the grave with me as well. Your life isn't ever the same after, either.

D.L.

[myfairynuffstuff]

[existential--writersblock-blog]

I'm sorry, I can't let you go. I can't give up on the idea that you might realize that I was only trying to help you. I know you wish I'd just stop caring but somehow you stole a part of me and I just want to make sure you're okay.

I’ll never be the same (D.L)

[existential--writersblock-blog]

I wish I could forget that you exist, because even though you're not around, I know you're out there, I know you're doing something, something that I would find utterly adorable, and yet, I'm not there to see it.

D.L.

[existential--writersblock-blog]

I loved her most, more than any before. As time goes by, I realize, she loved me least.

D.L.

[existential--writersblock-blog]

I’ve seen rage and fury, softness and sweet, in the same creature. Sometimes fear or insecurity, but mostly disinterest. It’s similar to a wheel of emotions we spin on a day-to-day basis and I think we’re done spinning for a while, stuck on indifference.

Wheel of Emotion (D.L.)

[existential--writersblock-blog]

When she got mean, she was pure rage. Nothing but screaming with big tears in her eyes and she never cared about what came out of her mouth as long as it hurt. I remember the last fight, she was red and I'd never seen somebody break so bad. She bottled everything up until she exploded and that was the most powerful storm I'd ever seen in our living room. Then she cried for all she was worth because she realized what she'd done.

D.L.

[existential--writersblock-blog]

It’s like the circles of you and I were so close, but never overlapped, so there was never any us, even though I really hoped there could’ve been.

I’ve learned since then (D.L.)

[existential--writersblock-blog]

She always looked best when she was just about to fall asleep, usually curled up and touching me. I never will forget her hair in her face and snoring quietly in a deep sleep, her body will never be that relaxed during the day. She is pure when she sleeps and she looks like heaven.

i adore our naps together most (D.L.)

[existential--writersblock-blog]

Moving is hard because even 5 years later, you will miss the grass in your home state, that Mexican restaurant your family went on good days, even the Circle K on the corner. The people that buy your house will paint it and you won’t like the color. Here, it’s all places where you went with friends that don’t talk to you anymore and the place you kissed him for the first time and the Italian restaurant where he told you he cheated on you with his ex. Even the house you loved when you got it will never feel right, no matter how much you try to redecorate when things get better. When you move, it will be hard, but maybe it’s better than home, which isn’t home anymore, and the streets are littered with robberies and needles and the book store was replaced with a strip club. Maybe it’s not the move, but the hell you know is better than the hell you don’t.

you can never go home again (D.L.)

[existential--writersblock-blog]

It came out of her mouth without her realizing it, talking so fast in her panicked worry that it just happened. “I need you.” You could see it in her eyes that she was scared that it was true, obviously it was, “I hate it so much but I need you.”

i needed her too (D.L)

[existential--writersblock-blog]

She danced in my kitchen and held my hand so tight her knuckles paled, always living so hard she constantly had a skinned knee. She giggled when I kissed her and laughed so hard she cried when I would make jokes, no matter where we were. She practically purred when I’d play with her hair and I begged her to sleep. She loved me and I loved her so much, we were soulmates in every way of the word, but on that day in August it all ended. It ended with silence and a text that was never answered. Now she avoids me in the grocery and I just want to know what I did.

//WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU ANYMORE// (D.L.)