Veins Made of Roots

We grow like flowers, from the sweet smell of death || tw for recurring themes of death, decay, flower gore || all posts free to rb unless tagged otherwise

[etherea1ity]

sometimes do you ever just want to

[leahberman]

june bloom

instagram

[floweringsuggestion]

Blood runs sluggish like sap. Poetic thing, pathetic thing, what do you think can grow from your hollow heart? There is nothing but dry clay and stone. There is nothing to nurture in you. You dress it in petals and vines and pretend it's alive, but the rot claims them quickly and everyone can see it.

Do not pretend it can hold a seed precious as love. It is too empty a place for it to live.

[starsuggestion]

ive laid in my bed so long moss has begun growing on my shoulders and arms

[weltenwellen]

Ocean Vuong, from "Into the Breach", Night Sky with Exit Wounds

[floweringsuggestion]

Can you imagine vines weaving across your skin, dear? The leaves that brush you as it tightens and winds like a hungry snake, crawling from chest to fingertips, thorns pricking the spaces between them- There is a religion here in this pain that grows from you. Can you taste it, dear? Moss and iron, a taste of rain, there’s a promise there on your tongue that says “you are more than your flesh and bone,” can you hear it, dear? 

Rest in the soil and ash you left behind with your loneliness. You are no longer alone

[luthienne]

Adonis, from Selected Poems; “A Piece of Bahlul’s Sun” (tr. Khaled Mattawa)

[floweringsuggestion]

Your body is planted in the ground with care, with care my dear yes, for it carried you so far, so long. Your grave is dug and you’re so lovingly laid to rest.

Your body decays in the ground with ease, yes my dear, so easy, for it feeds on you and makes you a home. You feed the earth and it so lovingly makes you a home.

Your body grows as it always is meant to, yes my dear, growing flowers and grass and weeds, tree roots weaving through bone. It holds the earth that is you, and the you that is earth.

You get neighbors, and you are the earth that loves them.

[deadman-suggestions]

Have at it babes! Suggtober 2021! @curious-suggestions and another friend helped me to put it together

The post doesn’t need to include the word, it can be just inspired by it! And free day is just a write whatever you want day!

I’ll add a plain written out list under a read more when I get on the computer next

[salemwitchtrials-deactivated202]

[floweringsuggestion]

I am holding a pair of shears.

I am holding them to a branch overgrown and snipping it neatly off. There's a whimper as it hits the floor but I'm tired of this foliage kept untidy and harsh. Tired of branches growing out too far and snagging snagging, tearing all they grab onto, I am tired of this plant that is meant to bring beauty that only ends up cutting the people who walk by.

Doesn't it know it can't hold them? Doesn't it know it can't be safe as itself, natural and free and painful? I am holding a pair of shears to cut it back to size, to put it back in its place and keep it there and tell it "That's Enough," and I place my blades over the next branch only the branch comes from me and I cut it off. Like the one before it. And the ones after. I still whimper as they hit the ground. That's enough.

I am holding a pair of shears.

[floweringsuggestion]

Breathe. Your flowers need you to provide. You lost your lungs long ago, but they demand it. Listen to your leaves. Breathe.

[floweringsuggestion]

You're a sleepless soul. You crave the touch of kind things, and would rather believe in sweet compassion than a world that doesn't weep when things die.

Sometimes you want to go bundle up in the snow and wait. For what, you don't know yet. It would just be cold, but part of you wants to believe that if it loved you, it would become warm.

[floweringsuggestion]

I am tired. I wish it were in my nature to grow beautiful, but I need to prune my rotting leaves, remove my sickly soil, I must grow perfectly or I fear I don't grow at all.

I am tired of finding rot in my roots. I am tired of weeds.

[fractalsuggestions]

coiling in and out of every cavity like vines. something is holding you in place. maybe it's holding you together.

[floweringsuggestion]

There are these things like big black spiders crawling over my limbs, sticking their legs into my flesh and digging in, these disgusting bad parts of me that you will look at and hate-

What do you hate about me? What do I do that irks you, what bad parts have harmed you, have these creatures poisoned you too, have I poisoned you? These spider things hanging onto me, they bury themselves in, they become me, giant lumps on my shoulders and arms and back, my flowers grow around them like they belong

Please show me the spiders, get them off get them off, take the kitchen knife and carve them out of me, leave no trace, let me be kind and lovely and pure, show me the stain to remove

Carve me away until only the sweet smelling flowers remain, only the lovable parts, you hate the spiders I know it, hand me the knife and tell me where to cut, I'll play my own surgeon for you, I'll suffer the pain, these spiders aren't mine they can't be. Carve them off my flesh like the rot they are.

I'm sorry I let them stay so long at all

[jupiter-suggestion]

kiss the sweet earth and feel the grit of soil on your teeth. pay your respects now - your mortal life is short, and she will cradle your bones for the rest of eternity. let her know that you love her, awake, just as she shall love you, asleep.