Kitty Blue

My writing blog. All excerpts posted are mine. Sources link back to either this blog, or my main one (lechatpunk.tumblr.com). © Remy Anne 2013

[ommanyte]

Truth coming out of her well (with female-presenting nipples) to shame everyone

[rinasaurusrex]

oh sweet irony

[kittybluepoetry]

[kittybluepoetry]

There are no Monsters in my Closet

There are monsters on the street that want to eat me

Everyday I have to pass through their mouths to get to work

When I get home I hang my broadsword next to my bedroom door,

and shower twice to get their scent off of me.

My favorite dress is a bright, bloody crimson

It hits my knees and shows no collarbones.

I wore it last Saturday night and it brought out all the bulls

Whispering what they’d like to do to the one in red.

Every time I bruise my knuckles, I think, “Good.”

I am ready for the monsters to bite.

I have spent 20 years turning my skin to leather.

I am so much sharper than their fangs.

I ask my father to eat a salad once a day.

Heart disease is the number one killer of men his age.

I ask my boyfriend to cut down on the cigarettes he smokes.

Lung cancer is a ruthless plague, and I’d rather keep him breathing

They ask me to always carry pepper spray and to never walk alone.

[kittybluepoetry]

On Birthdays, Part I

If we’re counting birthdays, let me count them my way.

I. I have had a war drum beating in my chest since I was 12 years old. To me, adolescence was crusades beneath my skin and a rebel yell in my lungs. You were not a soldier on that battlefield, so do not question my cries. 

II. Honestly I don’t think I was myself until I was fifteen And now fifteen feels like such a fucking stranger I don’t think I’d recognize her on the street.

III. When I was sixteen, I thought moving 3000 miles away would solve my problems.  I didn’t realize that running away from something inside of you just made you more tired. I’m kinda glad I didn’t know that though. Because eventually, when you run long enough, you have to stop and take a breath.

IV. When I was 18, I learned how to breathe, and that running to something is so much better than running away. They say to find what you love and let it kill you. But really, when you find what you love you learn how to live.

[kittybluepoetry]

Just fyi, I’m starting to rework this blog, so excuse the disorganization for a while <3

[kittybluepoetry]

I have had a war drum beating in my chest since I was 12 years old, and you are not a soldier on this battlefield. You cannot understand what it feels like to have crusades beneath your skin and a rebel yell in your lungs. Do not question my anger or my cries, because you have not entered the fray.

Excerpt from an untitled piece by Kitty Blue.

[kittybluepoetry]

Learn to forgive yourself. Learn to forgive your shortcomings and your flaws,and then learn to love them all the same. You are not worthy only when you succeed.  You do not have to prove your worth to be on this Earth. Hard work is not the rent you exchange for air.  Do not let your tenacity become a penance - let it burn within you, but remember that your soul is not flammable, and that fire has the capacity to transform as well as harm.  Do not turn your drive to daggers. It's a power within yourself that you have learned to wield all too well these past years. Do not use it on yourself.  Take a breath. Do not feel guilty for the space you consume. You fit in this universe just right; you do not have to apologize for existing as brightly as the nebulas you came from.  You are made from atoms and molecules and explosions - it is a beautiful, chaotic science that brought you here.  When a planet is born, it does not whisper platitudes into the dark matter it upsets. It does not count it's revolutions, hoping that one day it will be enough. There is no number that could measure it's unabashed existence. There is no number that could measure the galaxies and civilizations within you.  Take another breath.

Things I was not taught, by Kitty Blue

[kittybluepoetry]

He said this is my girlfriend like a beginning, and all I felt was the door slam shut. He had hands that could hold And a voice the made everyone feel special. He accepted what life gave him with a politeness I'll never understand. It wasn't his fault that I craved a little anger- A little possession-an indignance that rivaled my own. I want someone who holds on to their own singularity with the same vice grip that I cling to mine. I've always been a bit indulgent -two is greater than one, and every king has his lionheart.  I want to ink codependency through my veins, like a fucking lifeline, but it took me too long to realize blood flows both ways.  When I was 14, the Red Cross came to my school. We gathered in the same gym that held morning mass and evening basketball. I sat in the highest bleacher as a nice woman convinced me that she needed the blood that pumped through my uniform clad body. And I wanted to help - I only ever wanted to help.  And I grew dizzy as she told me of the power I held within my veins. Did I know the lives that I could save? I was fourteen, with a body changing so fast that I felt barely in control, let alone a vessel of life saving force. It was intoxicating.  It was intoxicating the way most things are to fourteen year old girls who are told their bodies are to blame for other's actions. So I marched up to the front of the line, instead of hiding on my highest bleacher -  the way I did to avoid the guilt of the communion I felt unworthy to take.  And I held my wrist out the way soldier cock their guns.  And I asked her to let me be powerful.  I remember a strange hardness in her eyes as she explained about weight limits, and height limits, and oh honey this was mainly for the older girls.  And I stepped aside, to let the other soldiers offer up a limb or two, as I let this fall into the box that held all the other things my body wasn't good enough for yet.  The jeans that I did not fill out right, the shorts that made my legs a danger to the good Catholic boys around me. The lipstick that made me feel pretty, but held the terrible aftertaste of my grandmother's disapproval. The dichotomy between pure and prude that we all found ourselves trapped in - age and weight limits be damned.  When he tells me I am beautiful, I cringe. Because he doesn't see what is flowing through my arteries. Blood is a hidden, silent thing, and he'll never hear it rush the way I do. I was beautiful when I was fourteen, but all I ever wanted to be was strong.

"This is dating, this isn't war," by Kitty Blue

[kittybluepoetry]

my best friend and I are on our second bottle of wine and I'm halfway through stalking your profile pictures and suddenly you text me and I can't remember if this is how my psychology textbook described fate or what that buzzfeed article told me love was like in the 21st century I spend my days calculating whether or not it's my turn to text you back this game is an algorithm that I never learned how to solve my SAT scores aren't quantifiable in regards to your screen name (not that I really think that would matter at all) we're generation x, the kids that only care about me, me, me our hashtags speak volumes, if only they cared to read so what a surprise when they find that our social media mea culpas were our version of the Hail Mary play and every last status, was a pixelated version of a prom corsage?

Love me Tinder excerpt by Kitty Blue

[lechatpunk]

1. Hey. 2. I miss you more then I thought it was possible to miss a person. 3. God that’s cheesy. 4. Did you know that your contact info is still in my phone? 5. And if Siri can call you, then I’m pretty sure you’re still here. 6. My life has been defined by the boundaries of technology, and your name is still a pixel inside those walls. 7. (just like your jacket that I finally have the courage to wear) 8. I wish I had an algorithm to explain your absence. 9. Do you think google could tell me what to do? 10. I have an app to tell me how many calories I burned today, so shouldn’t I have one to tell me how to make peace with the fact that I’ll never talk to you again never hold your hand never dance with you on a crowded dance floor running fast to catch the last train back to the first place I made home? You make me think in run on sentences, losing track of every comma I ever loved and forcing incomprehensible meaning onto ellipses that I wrote off years ago. There’s a deep anger that sits in bones ever since you left and I can’t help wonder if I’m gonna burn with it one day. 11. Sorry, autocorrect fucks me up sometimes. 12. I just meant to say hey.

Unsent Texts by Kitty Blue (via lechatpunk)

[kittybluepoetry]

god i miss you like i miss the bitter taste of vodka as it cuts down my throat destroying everything in its path i miss you the way hydrogen peroxide kills bacteria the way it dissolves all so there's nothing left but skin i want you to clean me from the inside out get rid of all these dirty parts that hold nothing but shitty boys with shitty cologne who fuck me on my couch baptize me baby, the only way you know how

Baptize by Kitty Blue

[kittybluepoetry]

I don't think I was myself until I was fifteen And now fifteen feels like such a fucking stranger I don't think I'd recognize her on the street

Kitty Blue excerpt from 15

[kittybluepoetry]

I will never be soft for you or pretty to look at or quiet to hear or gentle to the touch I am all angles and sharp bones I am not the Los Angeles haze that I was born into I am the hard R of a Boston accent I am the ice on the bricks of the cobblestone streets I am the shattering of broken glass I am the dry skin on your cheeks I’m not the soft roll of a crashing wave I’m not shiny words and chiming tongues I am muscles trained and sculpted I am the impact of every step you run I am a violin - strings threaded so tightly that the energy they hold is nearly atomic. I am a bow of marble, I am a musician of steel.

On Being a Girl by Kitty Blue (via kittyvonbennet)

[kittybluepoetry]

I will never be soft for you or pretty to look at or quiet to hear or gentle to the touch I am all angles and sharp bones I am not the Los Angeles haze that I was born into I am the hard R of a Boston accent I am the ice on the bricks of the cobblestone streets I am the shattering of broken glass I am the dry skin on your cheeks I'm not the soft roll of a crashing wave I'm not shiny words and chiming tongues I am muscles trained and sculpted I am the impact of every step you run I am a violin - strings threaded so tightly that the energy they hold is nearly atomic. I am a bow of marble, I am a musician of steel.

On Being a Girl by Kitty Blue

[kittybluepoetry]

I said no, and you wrote a song about me And I can't decide if it's the most romantic or the meanest thing anyone has ever done for me but I guess it's just the most honest cause at the core of all your lies, you're always the same person and every girl you fuck and every shot you take is in the exact same key as every song you sing me you're a teenage fantasy, babe but don't you know I'm all grown up?

on musicians by Kitty Blue

[kittybluepoetry]

1. I hadn't done it before 2. We heard it was what grown-ups did 3. I was drunk (you were worse) 4. You wanted me, you were like a super hero 5. She wanted to learn how, so we showed her 6. You pissed me off 7. I wanted to fit in 8. You were sweet, I liked your hat 9. We were alone in the hallway 10. It's the dinner scene, what else is there to do? 11. Sometimes I get competitive 12. You told me that we were in love (but really we were in kindergarten) 13. You, me, and some dancing.

"reasons why we kissed." by Kitty Blue

[kittybluepoetry]

I tried to poem away my mixed up feelings But I kept coming back to tequila and bad choices And you are such an important friend to me I don't want to lose that, I don't want to lose you Because of bad choices we made in darkened rooms Enhanced by loud music and hard drinks We're just kids doing silly things, right? Pull my braids again, tease me about my clothes Let's go back to our kindergarten rapport I understand that so much better than this grown up game we're playing at I'm just a kid I'm just a kid I'm just a kid

this is really shitty sorry