even when the night changes

the tumblr of writer jones (jo) howell 23 | ATL | she personal blog here

[sondber]

my favourite lyrics of sober up - ajr

[joneshowell]

I. i’m the kind of asshole who will stand on the other side of the room the whole night, silently hoping you will touch me. why ask for the things i want when i can do nothing and complain? very sensible.  perhaps i’ll go outside and beg the dead trees for money, next. II. all this is to say that if i don’t ever find out what your hands feel like on the backs of my thighs i will set this goddamn house on fire.

I’M CHOKING ON MY COWARDICE WHEN I’D RATHER BE CHOKING ON YOU, by jones howell (via joneshowell)

[joneshowell]

so the beach was less a paradise, more hurricane backwash. so the afternoon sped straight on into the pitch-black night spent together, but apart. so you drank the witch hazel and shattered the screens but their face was still there, burning, burning, burning.  throw in the towel. burn the poems. there’s no love so good that you can’t grind it out like an old cigarette.  you chose ‘now’ and maybe it should have been ‘never’. who cares. start again. drink out of bottles, not people. shatter the cup. use the pieces to cut your brake lines. set the whole car on fire, if you have to. you’re not in the desert anymore. lick the wounds. fuck the earthquake. howl at the moon. run for cover. you don’t have to be a poet in order to say, save yourself. we are still young and still foolish and still writing about our hearts, but they were never meant to be eaten.

THE POET RETRACTS HER EARLIER STATEMENT WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE, by jones howell

[joneshowell]

men: your harsh exterior is merely a cover for the roiling sensuality i sense just beneath the surface

me: no i'm just an ice bitch who experiences arousal about once a month and it's never for you

men: a challenge, you say? by god, woman, i shall have you

me: dammit

[joneshowell]

DO DEMISEXUALS ONLY SLEEP WITH DEMIGODS demi is from the Latin for “half” and there are so many nights where i feel that in my bones half-human the bed half-full my body less lush oasis and more desert at night half-eaten the ragged edges of my self catching on the smiles of men i’ve known so long that the half-window of opportunity has long been slammed fully shut even though i am wanting and wanting there are no half-measures about the way that i think about the men who no longer think about me

jones howell (via joneshowell)

[joneshowell]

DO DEMISEXUALS ONLY SLEEP WITH DEMIGODS demi is from the Latin for "half" and there are so many nights where i feel that in my bones half-human the bed half-full my body less lush oasis and more desert at night half-eaten the ragged edges of my self catching on the smiles of men i've known so long that the half-window of opportunity has long been slammed fully shut even though i am wanting and wanting there are no half-measures about the way that i think about the men who no longer think about me

jones howell

[tristamateer]

Visit Original Link

You date a boy and afterwards, I watch you turn him into a city. You say, this is the road where his car went over the guardrail and he walked away without a scratch and took three whole days to call you. You say, this is the road where you threw my flowers out to make room for him in the passenger seat. You say, this is the road between his house and our apartment. This is the restaurant you used to frequent with him, which is also where you took me for our first dinner date. This is the used condom we found stuck between the wall and my side of the bed. These are the sheets you still hadn’t changed by the time I moved in. This is someone else’s bed and I am laying awake at night in it, folding and unfolding city maps, wondering if there’s a casual way to say, “Hey, is your ex-boyfriend Rome? because everything leads back to him.”

[tristamateer]

He said, “I never want to pull out of you” and I think I fell in love. What a fucked up thing to do. And this wasn’t supposed to be a fucked up poem but it’s turning into a fucked up poem because I haven’t been able to cum in three years without thinking of his hips sliding into mine: like first base, like second base, like third base, like home.

“The Most Magnificent Pastime” Trista Mateer  (via tristamateer)

[tristamateer]

just to let you know i love the direction your poetry is going in. you're a gift to us all.

started from the bottom now we’re still writing about the bottom but at least the metaphors are better

[tristamateer]

This is the part where I Google signs of emotional abuse and wonder how many I have to tick off to prove there was a problem. The part where our friends wave away the details and say that they love us both anyway. The part where I take the details to bed with me. Hide them like baby teeth. Keep waking up hoping for change. This is the part where we fake it for everyone else’s comfort. The part that has nothing to do with us. We sit alone in two different apartments. We write our separate poems about nothing. You don’t mention how I couldn’t sleep in the bed when you were in it. I don’t bring up how you used me like an ATM. How you masturbated loudly every night in the other room. How we never touched. How I said we needed to talk about it and you said no. How I could have picked a better hill to die on than one with nothing at the bottom of it.

Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)

[joneshowell]

Tried to write a predictive text poem and ended up with some dog/cat/lack of vulnerability discourse instead

[cosmicblushes-moved-deactivated]

bad times with adhd:

cant read

can read, but cant comprehend what ur reading

boredom more like Time To Suffer

rsd

u wanna watch a video thats any amount of time??? thats too long, even if the video is like 10 seconds

becoming too aware of how things feel or how u do certain things or just regular bodily functions like breathing or blinking

staying up until 4 AM or later for no reason aside from adhd said so

that sinking feeling when u realized uve spaced out for most of a conversation and u feel too bad abt doing it to ask the person to repeat what they said 

overstimulation

meltdowns

when u have the motivation to get shit done, but executive dysfunction is like “lmfao nope”

trying to get certain stuff done and ur managing ok, but u still get distracted on occasion and u scold urself every time u do but u cant stop urself from doing it

the antsy anxiousness that comes with being confined to doing smth for too long

“i hope i remember this” u didnt remember it

outbursts which cause u to snap at ppl and then u feel bad but u couldnt help it

no volume control so ur constantly told to stop yelling but u cant make ur voice quieter 

*someone explains instructions and its a rather simple thing* “ok got it” u dont got it

getting irrationally irritated over the smallest shit but u cant help it everything is just So Frustrating 

“u know what i think im having a good day” and then mood swing that makes u either Super Sad or Super Mad for no reason

having what ur gonna say right in ur head but somehow u still space out in the middle of talking and forget what u wanted to say

forgetting why u were upset but still feeling upset

the sinking feeling of remembering why u were upset and now ur even more upset

when rsd is being extremely irrational and u know its bullshit but u dont have the energy to fight it so u just sit there in sadness

when rsd makes u self conscious abt stimming in public

having absolutely no time perception at all. what even is time ive never heard of that in my life

needing to get smth done and u manage to focus, but ur focusing on the wrong thing

overanalyzing past stuff thats happened and realizing other shit u couldve said that wouldve helped the situation and damn why didnt u think of that when u were in the situation

this is long i should stop now

[joneshowell]

I. you’ll need soft, thin muslin and a needle and thread. trace him out with a crayon. cut with a steady hand. cut with the sharpest scissors you own. my mother always said, you have to make it so your seams don’t show. that means tiny stitches. that means slow going and a sure needle. take your time. soon you’ll sew up all your heartbreaks by hand. II. fill him. fill him with beans, kernels, seeds: something organic, something hard, like he was. stitch him tight up the back. let your fingertip worry the seam like you used to stroke his spine. i wouldn’t suggest kissing him–he’s cool to the touch, all lumps and cotton when your lips only remember silk– but there’s no harm in it. not anymore. III. pour yourself a glass of wine. pour him a draught of lighter fluid. toss a match with one hand and toast him with the other. close your eyes and listen to his stuffing clatter to the ground. it will sound like hail, fireworks, gunfire: a punishment, a revolution, a warning. IV. this is what you make when you keep leaving fist-sized holes in the walls. when you can’t stand the idea of hurting him, but you can’t stand him, either.

YOU WON’T FIND THIS ON PINTEREST, by jones howell (via battlecatgo)

[joneshowell]

i just want a week where the worst thing that happens is that i forget to pay a bill on time. or that it rains for two days straight. or that the dog peed on the carpet again. i am so tired of treading water, of talking myself down ledges, of surviving half-catastrophes: you know, the ones that send you to the bottle but not to your grave, the ones that manifest as toothaches, as chest pains, as bad dreams that keep you up nights. the cat sleeps on my chest because she finds my heartbeat soothing. inside it feels like a hoofbeat suicide, a ticking grenade, swelling and thudding with its own explosive potential: HEY, KID. ARE YOU READY FOR WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

THE POET ADMITS TO WEAKNESS, by jones howell (16/30)

[joneshowell]

Do you have a twitter?

Sure do. Follow @jhowellwriter for the best retweeted memes and late-night panic!!!

[crvwly]

[coldafternoon-deactivated202102]

me: writes an over-the-top, emotional post that exposes my heart or w/e

me ten minutes later when my emotions have flat-lined: huh. embarrassing.