soft at the touch

you forgot you’re immortal and bleach can’t cleanse a soul @reclist

[reclist]

i need to put into words something no can can know; caged up in my head like so many times before– caged and chained and a prisoner of my own symptoms 

the past has taught me that nothing is going to save me. the present has taught me that i have never been less alone. i wish it was enough to hold a hand and tighten my grip

but i still need to put into words something no one can know. maybe it’s my own fault for keeping it in my chest until my ribs come out of my body

thank you for the help; the other side of the coin is that i’m not thankful because i could’ve ended up so much worse

[reclist]

swallow it down. even when it burns. gravel and glass and at least you’ll be puking something out. learn to push it down. up comes blood and metal and whatever has been macerating in your stomach. the acid, the words, the feeling crawling out of your throat. it is out in the open and no one sees it. tell yourself it’s better this way and appropriate the seconds it would take you to tell a story no one’s listening to. i get it when you say you don’t want to be here. i get it when you open your mouth and nothing comes out. the practice that made this perfect doesn’t sleep at night but at least it’s got your lines memorized. you’re going to be okay. down under, drowning, repeating to yourself it’s fine because it’s the only digestible answer so far. swallow and choke and swallow and breathe and swallow because your options are limited and no one sees the bile on the back of your tongue. swallow like you’ve been practicing. the crooked smile on your face, the yellow teeth, the fangs sticking out, morphing into something crafted specifically for this. say what you always have. swallow, laugh, try to sell the lie that comes out.

[reclist]

[lithiumcarbonated]

[reclist]

i think the problem is that it gave us a home. you’d weep if you lose it so you come back when it calls. you weep when you come back. we should run away. it’s ok if you wouldn’t choose me on your first pick. i ended in your team anyway. i can say for certain we’re in this together. i will scrub it clean and you can dry it. we’ve learned teamwork. i hope you look back and relive me; the rumor of us no one could tell happened and the explicit show of our hugs hello. it watches over us, signing on each diary entry with the author and a footnote claiming ownership of a story we were never part of. i hope we’ll sell an unit. i hope re-reading doesn’t hurt as much as when i wrote it down.

[reclist]

03.06.25

[reclist]

i’m digging deep. trying to find something beyond the shallow surface i awake into in summer days, when the heat drips down my skin and i can't find myself no matter the dictionaries i consult. i guess we all are only meant this much. i wish i was different. i know i’ve come as far as circumstances allowed. maybe if they'd been different i’d have greater things to talk about. maybe i’ll find you on the other side. where words flow comfortably and i don't have to find the right environment where to thrive. i am where i am. i gotta be okay with coming as far as the plank i walk down. the sea calls. as romantic as it sounds, it's actually just tragic. aren't we? i could've been so great. formal apology to my wasted potential. at least this one bled out easily. for a second it was just me and my head, and it didn't feel like pulling teeth. i'm not who i was supposed to be; but at least i’m alive to tell where i ended up.

optimism doesn’t sit right— i always end up falling short, and no one expecting more is my own fault

[reclist]

hi its me again asking for help fixing typos/grammar/anything that doesnt make sense

you know, they tell you: when you don’t now what to write, write about not knowing what to write

but what do you do when there’s too much of it? how do i write it into submission? into more managable, shorter sentences, so words spell words and not script a scene

maybe i’m dramatic because nothing’s small enough to fit my body. have you ever thought about it like that? ever had your guts inflate until you’re puking them out?

you should thank me for dramatizing words. this way the only inconvinience is turning the page. what a bummer to clean blood off my bedroom floor. your hands weren’t meant to– blah blah blah

at least we’d have something to talk about

i do feel a little insane at times; so i write it down and hand it out because i’ve forgotten what it’s like to laugh outside of folie a deux 

and we do laugh, don’t we?

[themeowzaiosamu]

Blackout poem I did with this - thanks for the permission btw, reclist

[reclist]

[reclist]

you know, they tell you, when you don’t know what to write, write about not knowing what to write

but what do you do when there’s too much of it? how do i write it into submission? into more manageable, shorter sentences, so words spell words and not script a scene

maybe i’m dramatic because nothing is small enough to fit my body. have you ever thought about it like that? ever had your guts inflate until you’re puking them out?

you should thank me for dramatizing words. this way the only inconvenience is turning the page. what a bummer to clean blood off my bedroom floor.

your hands weren’t made for– blah blah blah

but at least we’d have something to talk about

i do feel a little insane at times; so i write it down and hand it out because i’ve forgotten what it’s like to laugh outside of folie à deux

and we do laugh, don’t we?

[reclist]

i'll take what i can get. a vodka shot in exchange for a look so casual no one tells we know each other so well

cement fills our spaces, rock solid in the best of cases, secure and safe, down to earth and bed-ridden with antipsychotics-induced dreams

i can't be soft, airy and light when your circumstances beg for it; your feet don't touch the ground and you float away. i'm left behind, anchored down, staring as you go. something must be wrong with me– maybe i'm too rough, too direct and not empathetic enough for you to lie your head on my shoulder. useless. sometimes helpful and sometimes not

i don’t like watching you rely on someone else when i’m standing right beside you

everyone's a cycle. tag in tag out dip in dip out get in get out. first choice then afterthought. chosen once replaced later

i'm not above sacrifice to become needed. i am made of paper thin self-esteem and holes calling to be stuffed with reassuring sentences then brought home. i bury you in me using fingernails because i'm not above being hurt by you either

though we do have our things: movements in sync, matching words, all hidden in plain sight and mine alone. i don't say ours because i know you don't need them like i do. you don't obsess and unload them on notebooks because you barely want to write about anything else

not long after we first talked you spared me enough string to tie us the only way i know how: simple knot, loose, so you can detach when i push you away while i fight with myself not to get entangled

but you tie your strings in ribbons; tighter and prettier both in color and shape– gentle where i’m ruthless and more comforting than mine

[reclist]

squeezing you between my fingers hasn’t worked for a while. you take form again too soon and it’s gonna hurt like hell when your sizing put in perspective turns to be smaller than you made me believe

and i do believe. you made it impossible not to. i press my thumb and index fingers trying to reshape you into safer, less terrifying dimentions. (it’s kind of your fault; with your presistence and the honesty and how i can’t remember the last time someone felt like claws digging into me, like danger, but i wouldn’t have to tend the wounds alone. it’s kind of my fault for letting you take up so much space)

so i need to squeeze you into a tiny little form; imperceptible. diminute. so meaningless the needles will barely prick at my skin and your threat will be holding a toy gun

it takes practice to dismiss like this. i need to twist the words into bitterness; leaving an aftertaste so i won’t try to swallow them again. until they almost taste like nothing i want to hold onto

but i do hold. and i do taste– so sweet i’ve got a tummy ache. sugary honey cavitating my teeth and there’s whole pieces of myself rotting

at a point it’s all a joke and i’m the only one laughing. hysterically. i’m 15 again and i can’t make it stop

[reclist]

a deck of cards on the table, about to play the game and lose every round. you show up because their invitation card welcomes you on the mat every friday. a dash of you believes you're part of something bigger than yourself — you + them³. an extension of what you thought would only be. you're in the same room and you're playing and you lose

it's not so much about winning as it is about belonging. forever misplaced and craving a home you don't know the street number of. you think stepping in would change you. something. anything

the house you live in is empty (you beg them to contribute.) wood furniture held together by tape, mold induced headache. spider web silk for sheets, sticks to and strangles your skin 

you find comfort in the familiar. we both know this. everyone knows this. nothing like lying in the bed you choose to die in every night. it makes you immortal, in a way— you pass and you die and the next morning you do it all over again

[reclist]

[lithiumcarbonated]

[reclist]

[reclist]

drip not the sweat for there are no verses where without harmony we crashed

drop the hand holding tight what once was in your grasp

deep down certainty hid for a moment. left was comfort, warmth, feeble, featherlight, sneaking between ribs thighs harsh yet soft at the touch

dusk falls each passing second for the quiet when we were one