Angel @insidethecube - Tumblr Blog

(you contain multitudes?) dissatisfied! it is hard to write about (fight the influence) when you ask whether it was right all along or maybe it’s inside you and maybe you’re the evil one (chinese) like a wild weed, uprooted (china!) [spoken, slurred] words, concentric circles, spiral type your sentences (speak the singular truth) you win, if-then I pledge my allegiance and kill the girl inside of me— amen.

#writeblr #writing #poetry #poeticstories #smittenbypoetry #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #spilled dreams #creative writing #chinese diaspora #original

matthew-pasquarello

here we come across duck feathers river-stripped gleaming green and starting fights amongst historians.

our music will never cut out; only whisper when tides are low and chips roll under a table built for fools who prefer wobbly legs

gold in a nutshell was a standard for jittery squirrels when railroads were a concept and hiding your nuts was eighty-five percent of a lost criteria

yet, let's become intoxicated, care about gods, let genitalia or newspaper headlines become our main concern

#the chicken is naked and afraid #reblog

robertjw4688

POINTING MY FINGER AT A VAGUE INDENT

You have one foot in high school

and another in your grave.

Which will bury you first?

I've defended you

in rooms that turned you away

while you shivered in the monsoon

but you've set the universe ablaze

and now that room

is all the remains.

Everyone else

is drinking to what never was

while I'm sad

for what could have been.

You've spent your life

writing manifestos

in what you claimed was ink

but the words have started to run

like the teardrops

of the wounds

to which you refuse to tend.

I wanted to dedicate

the world's lingering misanthropy

to you

but when I see you

jumping

into infinite landfills

while screaming "victim"

like a child yelling

"fire"

to feel love,

it would be akin

to dropping an atom bomb

on a village

just to get rid of

of a tiny, starving mouse.

#and I guess you could hold space for it #but it would feel wrong.#reblog

intimate

and when I say I'm happy for you, I truly mean it— I'm glad, but I don't really have any more words. finding myself back in the spot, (in circles) left behind and hurting and fighting all these demons—wars, unrequited anger and shame and an incessant frustration asking, never responding as you're so close but so far, parallel universes I cannot reach— I get a little mad.

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moving parts

you know, there's not much point in saying it now but I really do miss the pierogies you would bring from home, and playing deltarune in the back of the class (and drawing ralsei smoking a fat blunt) I pretended like you didn't understand my brokenness— but I'm sure you knew more than you let on, and I'm sorry for never offering you a proper goodbye. three years down the line you've got your calculator in hand closing your locker door, and— I realize I'll never see you again. the words stumble out of my mouth, I mutter "good luck, ��"— and I think I hear you whisper— "thanks," as I sprint away from you for the last time. [3/9]

// I'm sorry for hurting you (I already said that)

#writeblr #writing #poetry #poeticstories #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #spilled dreams #creative writing #angelcube[apologies to the past]#original

kaytpoems

i want a happiness that ceases my poetry

because my muses lie in the night.

with the moon. in a darkness that

puts its other senses to uses i can’t

understand. want a love that will keep

the lights on. revive the wings that

settle dead in my stomach. i want

to be happy enough to be away

from the notebook.

~K.T.

#without the words I'd be boring #but maybe I'd rather be boring #reblog

who was like god

half the poems on my page are dedicated to you, (were, before I privated them) so it’s weird to be writing about you again. it’s been three years— years of snow and sun and life happening, and if I’m to be honest, I’m kinda confused. I don’t know why you cut me off like that don’t know why I’m mad that you cut me off like that (and if I’m honest?) I’m thankful you were there. think I was happy for a while, but things are different now (I think) and— I hope I wasn’t (too) weird. I hope I’m a happy memory for you too, (I know I’m probably not) but thank you, anyways— I’m gonna try and move on now, too— and see you later [2/9]

#writeblr #writing #poetry #poeticstories #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #spilled dreams #creative writing #angelcube[apologies to the past]#original

curious-cryptids

Dove wings, silver white, edges glittering with raw-cut quartz. They hover just over your eyes, casting soft shadows like eyelashes down your cheeks.

Shivering in cool breezes scented with sweet oranges and the tingle of mint, their shadows stretch and curl into waltzes across your face.

Light refracts in your white-fogged gems, and sometimes I doubt if I can actually see you.

My mind blurs when I look you head on. Consciousness shivering between realities, yours and mine, disconnected. I see your side profile from across cloud-bridges and from behind feathered edges.

My fault, though.

When I look at you only from the corner of my eye, from my own little island. Floating amiss in the darkening blue sky.

And when I stare up from under half-lids, eyelashes cutting the world into wedges.

I hope you know I wonder about you.

About where your wings take you when you're relaxed.

About how you see the world, is it hidden by your gemstone veil? Or do the facets act like magnifying glasses, bringing everything into bright, near painful, clarity?

About your murmured sentences, drifting on the wind, I'm sorry I didn't catch them all.

One day, I'll show you the silver fog that floats off the grass when I wake up early enough, and I'll point to the way the stars chase each other across the galaxy when they think we aren't looking.

Soon, I promise.

When I'm able to read the curling cursive letters the fog paints across my chest, and the stars allow me into their game.

For now, I'll listen.

// for @insidethecube :>

insidethecube

oh my god… oh my god. thank you

#love u too #here have some tags #poeticstories #smittenbypoetry #recognizingthevoiceless #reblog

reconformity

tell me— if you hurt like she did if you find a tap in your chest, draining your soul— taking over your heart (it's survival) into a pretty little cup "for your convenience"

and— if you wish you could run in the fields like she does, if you wish you could form a new skin like she does and if you wish that you could start over, turn over a new page—

and if you could scream, I wonder what you would say as the voice drains out of your body, as the sun extracts your soul for consumption and the days become too long— if you could become anew what would you be?

// for @curious-cryptids

#writeblr #writing #poetry #poeticstories #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #spilled dreams #creative writing #original

n-ehpamoi

Men are dogs,

I've heard them say --

but a dog would love me

like I put the sun

in its sky,

even on my worst days.

When a dog wants to play,

it's like I'm one of its own --

just another friend

to jump and run and pull

with.

Even when a dog is mean,

I know it's afraid,

or has been hurt, before,

or has something

that it needs

to pretect --

A man would love me

for only as long

as i am what he thinks

he wants.

A man plays with me

like I am a toy,

and discards me

when he's worn me out,

or has lost interest.

A man is mean simply

for the joy of being cruel,

or because,

heaven forbid,

I give him not

whatever it is he

feels he is owed --

Men are (not) dogs.

I can trust one of the two

when I look them

in the eyes,

and i find the other so often

has learned, well enough,

how to pretend to care --

I never have to question

the love of a dog.

Men are not dogs,

and they are not filled

with enough majesty

to be called even wolves

in the skin of man --

They are men, and, to me,

that often enough

is reason to be weary,

on its own.

"Thank god I love women."

V. Rue, 2026.

#thank god indeed #reblog

kaytpoems

pause for breath

poetry is the only thing i can’t

do in a hurry. force myself to sit.

to think, for a change. the words

are a melody. a slow-moving river.

a meditation of all the thoughts i must

write slower than i can speak.

~K.T.

#true…#I wrote a really fire verse last night on the shitter #reblog

brotherorpheus

why am i, 2026

awake? february

potentially

twenty-two or twenty-four or

23rd

or

4inthemorningo’clock

(this vape hits like a sissy)

or 5:17 a(nte) m(eridiem)

mercury soon in retrograde

(like i care)

dream-glazed Aztec hair

bespoiled empires, how common

how painfully american

to die of cancer or gun violence

scylla or charybdis

coke or pepsi

(both taste like diabetic urine)

i’ll take a cold glass of

data center backwash

river-fed, a note of mountains

off the nose, and undertones

of corporate slavery and

neo-fascism

(as though this shit was “new”)

just the same old re-packaged

re-branded re-funded re-justified

tribal bullshit

‘my oh my!’ my ganna

would have said

‘someone woke up in a mood!’

in her southern belle drawl

but she died in the side bedroom

those thick glasses probably

threw little rainbows on the wall

from the bedside table

mist in the sprinkler

a spectrum of harp strings

suspended, frozen in childish

memory, (nostalgia is hopeful

poison)

i am only ever now

(worse luck)

and fables made of then

(self-indulgent bildungsroman)

woven by an

unreliable narrator

(christ, I’m bored,

a thief may have said

as they hung waiting)

samsaric tedium

(death and re-death)

we are only ever now

(although i do wonder

what her mind projected

upon that hideous popcorn ceiling

as she lay in bed that night)

or did she simply ask

am i awake?

until she simply was not

(this strain recedes like a coward tide)

why why why my oh my

(am i awake?)

#but we must stay awake #reblog

somnolence

dear blonde girl— you woke up one day with everything I wanted, and I hated you. I'm sorry for trying to steal for trying to make you feel like less for trying to replace you. eight years later you were in my chemistry class quiet, absorbed and I would think— lonely, and I was too absorbed in my guilt to care. in another universe we are friends and you would forgive me for the pain I caused you—

let me forgive me for the pain I caused you. [1/9]

#writeblr #writing #poetry #poeticstories #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #spilled dreams #creative writing #angelcube[apologies to the past]#original

robertjw4688

PISSING WHAT IFS

(a poem about my anxiety struggles)

I'm pissing what ifs

into my holding cell.

I will drown

again and again

yet I will always

grovel for oceans.

My personal conspiracy theories

are graphed out on the brain.

They pierce the skull,

they pierce the world.

Three decades

without autumn or spring;

the summer startles to winter

then back again

without a chance to thaw

or settle.

#three decades without autumn or spring is such a fire line #but the sun is coming #and hopefully it will be kinder #reblog

wake

it’s strange the snow, the cold, the silence. no one seems to be concerned with— how many more sunrises will you no longer be able to see? I did not know him, and yet the ache is deep-set, a remnant of memories gone by. and it was me, once, if I had not been so stubborn so I wonder if I could’ve saved you, if I hadn’t been too selfish to think of you futile— and yet the winter lingers, stray regrets of a forsaken past.

// I hope the next world treats you better than this world did. fly high, brother