Delicate Toxicity @lionmadeoflace - Tumblr Blog

Okay, so let’s pretend for a little longer. Like maybe it’s just the summer heat & the winter frost, makes the ground foggy, hides bodies kept under dirt. Like my nightmares about you hanging from a noose, or daydreams of bathtub electrocution- sorry. I overspoke again. So, let’s make this a prayer instead. I’ll worship & you, the god of my own choosing, just sit still. If you move it might ruin the delusion, the devotion that we practice is volatile. Maybe it’s time to stop calling this anything but an apology. A complicated way of explaining that you deserve somebody who knows how to say sorry, who will treat you as a human instead of a divinity. Maybe that can’t be me. Okay, so I’m ashamed. Nothing to be done now.

#this sucks but I have no inspiration so #my writing #my poetry #poetry #writing #poetic

late nights texting, i’m eating dinner while you’re trying not to get caught because mom says it’s bedtime, & you don’t like to argue anymore. match girl, setting my skeletal remains aflame with those artist’s hands, your tears on me after he left but i said he was bad news. talks of hallucinations & homicidal ideation, our fucked up minds sharing the same user manual, i used to call us sinners before we stopped believing in the cross above your bed. the next guy is supposedly a lot like me, you want us to get along but he says “girl” so i want to deck him, & for once it’s not my side you take. new semester, newer friends who talk more, don’t say they love you but it doesn’t matter, we stopped texting along the way, after he called me disrespect & you said he was in the right. i cry out arsonist, warn my heart that you’ll burn it alive but you call me soft, talk like gentleness is a skill i’ve mastered, so i stay. then i don’t. then you have the new girl, who can manage her emotions & yours, doesn’t care if those painter’s fingers are hot to the touch because she was born fireproof. so i find some new god, call her fae creature, hope that she spits water instead of blaze. i call myself pyromaniac, but kiss our fire goodbye.

& i call you flame starter

#no capitalization because it frightens me tonight #my writing #my poetry #poetry #writing #poetic #lost friends

skin clothes kept in the upstairs closet / faces stolen from people who dared to linger / interchangeable personalities. feet on the edge of a roof / the need for attention / hospital trips make people look. kisses shared below night sky / mood swing induced romance / affection as a currency of love. therapist offices / waiting rooms filled with the ill of mind / pill bottles in jacket pockets. another day spent lying in bed / shaking hands carving scratches onto skin / necessary unhealthy coping mechanisms. boredom causing fists thrown into walls / numbness succeeding tears / survival at its worst.

Mental Health

#self harm warning #self harm tw #my writing #my poetry #poetry #writing #poetic #self harm #mental health #mental illness

Rickety barn-house at the end of gravel driveway, door shattered outwards, barren frame occupied by a lady in rain soaked dressing gown, bruises winding up her wrists like ivy. Tile floor spattered with blood, body left lying next to an evening meal, drunkard husband with a bullet in his head, cruel man who won’t be grieved. Her, protector of broken girls, modern day victim turned monster, a woman scorned.

Urban Legends, Merciful Mother

#my writing #my poetry #poetry #writing #poetic

I'm not scared of the dark, and I'm not scared of dying. Maybe those two things go hand in hand.

#random thoughts #rambling

Your body in my bed, cataclysm boy with hollow eyes. Sheets wrapped in knots and nooses, hanging from tree branches, feet brushing forest floor, mulch and moss undisturbed, disaster body breaking instead. Purpled hands wrapped around your own neck, us, sitting in the pews at midnight, lock picked. Lighter dropped, worship place burning around our skeletons, holy mistakes. Your body on my bathroom floor, staining red, unmarked grave under our feet, blood on wood, a barbed wire coffin. Catastrophe predestined.

Just Your Average, Everyday Suicidal Ideation

#yes #I rewrote this AGAIN #suicide warning #suicide tw #my writing #my poetry #poetry #writing #poetic #suicide

Run down motel at the Interstate’s bedside, infected with a magnetic boy draped in off-white sheets. 43 rooms, each with no smoking signs, the acrid smell of flames, ash stained carpet. Bone figure on the creaking mattress, his flesh turned coloring book, dark circles turned black, hands turned crystalline. A hallucination body, prescription pills on bathroom sinks, palm indentations curled around hip bones. The mystery man, hotel haunter, century old corpse.

Urban Legends, Room 29

#my writing #my poetry #poetry #writing #poetic #ghost #ghost story #paranormal

The church is made of crumbling wood but it's still considered holy. We stopped in front of it while running from our demons, and you laughed, looked over at me. "How can something full of death be pure?" My mortal skin holds demise. Today I woke up wondering why the sun doesn't explode, why an asteroid doesn't collide with us, why you haven't texted me. The church is boarded up. I pass it on my way to the therapist's office, to a place where demons are just stories. You were also supposed to be a daydream, but the longer I wait the more it seems you're here to stay. "How can something full of death be pure?" I am where the reaper stores his kills.

Deathly Boy

#my writing #my poetry #poetry #writing #poetic

Dreamland, falling from the roof, bones splintering under body weight, waking in a familiar bed, fantasies of jumping off the house again. Forest floor reaching up to meet limp limbs, death sentence on its way, destined to end in an unmarked grave. Butterfly gardens, maggots on flesh, nature at its finest, disguising the decomposing remains of a tragedy child. Gunpowder in the air, shuddering hands tying nooses, heart pumping formaldehyde instead of plasma, perfectly preserved specimen. Mounted skull, shattered collagen strung up as a participation trophy, suicidal youths littering torsos on highways, but do not touch, we are delicate.

Miniature Coffins

#THE PLURAL OF TORSO IS TORSI #HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE #suicide warning #suicide tw #graphic?#maybe?#my writing #my poetry #poetry #writing #poetic #suicide

Pamphlets handed out at the local youth center, “HOMOSEXUALITY IS A SIN”, you bring them home to keep in a drawer, a reminder for those lonely days. I bring them home as well, use them as fuel for the fireplace. * We meet at a house party, all soft smiles and social awkwardness, the smell of burning meat around us. That’s where we kiss for the first time, in the backyard, after one too many glasses of red wine, while your parents laugh at some dry joke. *Forbidden love, I declare, press my lips to yours for the third time. There’s cake on the table, a birthday celebration, but we prefer the taste of skin on skin. If we’re destined to fall, you say, let’s do it with grace. * Fall we do, but there’s nothing beautiful about it. Your hands hit the ground next to my feet, mother scorned, reputation ruined. She reaches for me next, shouting about Jesus, the pastor. Screams that she’ll tell everyone what we’ve done. I want her to. * My hands in your hair, you’re late for work again but maybe it’ll be okay. The sheets need to be changed but we can do it later. Now, you want me to kiss you, so that’s what I do. Now, when the church gives us pamphlets, we burn them together.

Prohibited Intimacy

#my poetry #my writing #poetry #writing #poetic #relationship #love #gay #gay love #gay relationship #happy ending

Cigarettes held in cowardly lips, nicotine smoke in the air while I follow in my father’s footsteps & his father’s and his father’s father’s. Fear passed down a lineage that nobody wants to be a part of, alone in our minds because we do not know how to ask for help, & me, in my dream-state. Pretending to be somebody else while life moves on, & she’s asking why I’m so cold, hands trailing down my sides, & my bed is as empty as always. Overactive imagination, & I pretend that my name is a stranger’s, borrow one from an acquaintance that my father’s brother’s friend knew some years ago, & my thoughts do not belong to me, do not belong to this body but it is all that I have, & loneliness runs in the family.

Genetic Predisposition

#my poetry #my writing #poetry #writing #poetic

Lately, I can't write a poem without using the word "worship" or talking about a church, and the word "devour" has become a synonym for "consume", has become a synonym for me. It's hard to tell if this is because my unholiness is showing, or because we've been talking too often. These late nights staring at walls are getting heavy but maybe I just need to do more weight lifting, or start running everyday like I always say I will, because the only other option I can think of is to ask you if love is real, if you feel it for me. Fear is already controlling, and if I ask that question I worry no matter your response leaving will be the only option.

More Of An Explanation Than A Poem

#does this count as poetry #who knows #my poetry #my writing #poetry #writing #poetic

My father winds his arms around my shoulders, the rocking of earth under our feet shakes the voices kept behind my tongue loose, this shifting of rock and bone, revealing the skeletons buried in the yard, puddles turned red with something closer to blood than wine, is this my new god, a new religion created in the dark hallways of a childhood home, in the laughter falling from my sisters mouth, like panic beating at my chest cavity, shuddering hands curled in blankets late at night, this holiness wrapping it's limbs around me in a playful attempt to possess, there is a reason worship is the only thing I know, there is a reason devour is the only thing I'm capable of.

Earthquakes

#I can't write anything that makes sense lately #my writing #my poetry #poetry #writing #poetic #father #parent

stuck in traffic on the north motorway, i’m thinking of you again, of how long it’s been since we texted, how possessiveness is what i learned in love, how to build a cage beautiful enough that prey won’t try to leave, the age old chase made subtle, existing in late nights and bonfires instead of boneyards, relationships have always been battles, dreams of digging graves, of going back to our more primal ways, you are an animal that tears at my hands, causing illusions that keep us from seeing clearly, they pray to a god, but we worship nothing, not even each other, so the spiderwebs have gotten too tangled to decipher who is the liar, and the earth tries to swallow everyone, coffins covered in moss but we call that life, no time for anything not leading to victory, i don’t remember a year when i wasn’t running after some body, the game doesn’t end until we are all still in our resting place, this is not the exception but the rule, and the cars don’t move.

Love Is A Game

#I have no explanation for this weirdness #my poetry #my writing #poetry #writing #poetic #love

I need to talk, because when you speak about something it can be immortalized. But if you choose silence, it will be forgotten. I do not want something so soft to ever be forgotten.

When She Says "I Don't Want To Talk About It."

#writing #my writing #not quite poetry #i should be sad but i'm disassociating instead

Your body in my bed, the cataclysm boy, bruised from a hard life, filled with too many long nights. Years of fists to skin has corrupted, immoral youth in a rebellious fashion. Feet on the forest floor, mulch and moss underfoot, disaster body breaking along with it. Sinister shadows on tree faces, monsters created in our imagination, Duplicitous figurines, wrapped in knots and nooses pendant from tree branches. Ruination in the making, purpled hands wrapped around your own neck. Masquerade balls within a mind, us, in the pews. Lighters dropped on the floors of holy places, you were catastrophe predestined. Blood on wood, a barbed wire coffin, your body on my bathroom floor, staining red. Tragedy child in my head.

Cataclysm Boys

#rewrote this #my poetry #my writing #poetry #writing #poetic

Written by @lionmadeoflace

I just realized this looks terrible on the phone whoops

#this is my new favorite thing #my poetry #my writing #poetry #writing #poetic

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