Life's a Wild Ride, Babe

poetry

[aphorisnt]

┏┓ ┃┃╱╲ In this ┃╱╱╲╲ house ╱╱╭╮╲╲ we love ▔▏┗┛▕▔ & appreciate ╱▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔╲   John Mulaney & his recovery ╱╱┏┳┓╭╮┏┳┓ ╲╲ ▔▏┗┻┛┃┃┗┻┛▕▔

[luckandcaffeine]

Buzz

I've been buzzing since my first coherent thought.

Under my skin lives an electric static.

Jolts for justice and hums for heartbreak.

Thundering lightning when the world is too much,

And soft radio white noise when it's just not enough.

[luckandcaffeine]

Unrequited

What I said to you after my bones finished shaking

Was a simple

"I have a crush on you."

What I wanted to say was

"I love you deep in my core.

I hold you tight.

I feel you in every soft morning and every lonely night.

In the raindrops and the sunbeams.

You linger on my thoughts like the heavy green dye of the creme de menthe liqueur on my tongue that you so graciously poured.

You settle between my ribs like your head settled into my chest as we laid and listened to the ocean.

I feel for you in the warmth of my daily coffee cups,

Reliable

Constant

Comforting."

I told you I had a crush on you

As if somehow in those words I could say how you are the constant in the back of my mind.

As if I could sum up the monumental and earth shattering way I feel for you into such a minuscule word.

And you said "I'm not in that space."

You said "I would be lying if I said I never had a crush on you."

You said "But I'm not in that space."

So I said "I understand."

And you said

"I love you."

And I said

"I love you too."

But you meant

"I care for you."

And I meant

"You're everything to me."

[luckandcaffeine]

Ocean

Do you feel that pull toward the ocean?

That deeply rooted part of you that never fully evolved,

That part of you that longs for a home in the depths of the water.

Yearning for a peace that you will not find with your feet firmly planted on the ground.

Longing to drop into a cold rush of water and leave the trauma that lives in your bones on the land you used to call home.

I want to live in the depths.

[luckandcaffeine]

Coffee

I drink artificially sweetened coffee drowned in milk.

I sleep until midday and waste the rest under mountains of blankets.

I carry too many things in my arms and I eat fast food and I will drive two blocks if it means I don't have to walk.

I hide from conversations that matter.

I am at peace in silent solitude.

But you break my solitude and give peace to my silence.

You bring my words out of the depths.

You climb mountains and eat yogurt and granola and carry your things in a backpack.

You wake up early.

You drink black coffee.

You're my antithesis.

But I dream of abandoning my solitude for your arms. For backpacks and yogurt and mornings and coffee.

You bring out the good in me.

[luckandcaffeine]

Coworker: what did you do over the weekend

Me: *flashes back to eating a family size bag of cheetos and yelling at the seagulls outside to fuck off*

Me: just hung out

[luckandcaffeine]

Constantly torn between wanting a hot butch to drive me around on her motorcycle and wanting to be the hot butch with the motorcycle driving around pining lesbians

[luckandcaffeine]

[luckandcaffeine]

Morning

I like the way early morning feels.

Barely blue, soft and solemn.

Everything is tender at 4 in the morning.

I wish we could live in the hours of the birds

And forget about 2pm problems

And 4pm phone calls

And 7pm dinners

And 11pm panic attacks.

I want to live in a permanent dewy glow

Just you and me and the promise of bitter coffee and sweet kisses.

And the kind of air that sweeps the cobwebs from the back of your throat.

Knowing all the time in the world can wait.

Groggy clarity sweeping the dirt off your edges.

At 4 in the morning, it's just you and me in love.

[autisticqueen]

people who make fun of autistic people are no longer allowed to use slime, weighted blankets, stress balls, or anything similar that originated and/or was popularized by the autistic community.

[j-sprrr]

i very much agree, however, may i also propose:

[luckandcaffeine]

They're right and they should say it

[luckandcaffeine]

Separation Anxiety

April perches on the lump in my throat

While wilted flowers greet the dawn.

The once holy rest

Now a train hurdling off a cliff.

Once you see the edge

Your peace is gone.

[luckandcaffeine]

Browne's Addition

Spokane, WA

I remember that apartment.

It was just a room, really.

With a couch, a kitchen, a mattress on the floor,

With incense burning and soft lights

And painted canvases.

Cigarette smoke lining the air

And scattered old memories.

That apartment held life.

It was buzzing.

Creaking doors and fishbowl windows.

I remember the hardwood floor,

And the day I was invited from the couch

Down into your bed.

It was small, but I remember holding you.

And the way your hair felt against my face.

And how I felt loyalty to your art, your hair, your eyes, your teeth.

I remember clinging to each word like it was the last I'd hear

And holding my mouth shut while my mind screamed for you to give me something to hold onto.

Something tangible and permanent and undeniable.

But now I hold no claim to you.

Or to the creaking doors.

Or to the hardwood floors.

Or to your canvases or cigarettes.

And we're both just another memory plastered into the paint on the walls.

[luckandcaffeine]

Parlour

Tender are the words that spill,

But sharp are the connotations.

Your voice gracing the inner working of my mind,

But how those words cut.

They slice.

They burn.

And you are RIGHT.

Those butterscotch promises and sapphire dreams

In this godforsaken blind spot

We've learned to call ours,

We've leaned into.

We've loved.

And here you are proving us right.

Though I was born of peppermint

I'm muddy.

A thin layer of grime.

Worn clothes.

Dirty dishes.

And stained carpets.

And maybe this is the place I was meant to end up.

Far from my roots,

My love, my Liv.

But in the water in the ceiling,

And the tears in her shoulder,

His hand in mine,

Her fire and light,

I've found a home.

This parlour is ours.

[luckandcaffeine]

Pantone 12-0752 TPX

I fear the buttercup clocks,

As vultures,

Circling.

And ticking,

Ticking,

Ticking away

The hours I have been granted on this soil.

Ticking away

An ocean of lines and colors,

Bursting out of my seams,

Begging the ligaments, bones, skin of my hands

To lay down something beautifully tangible

Onto the expensive cardstock paper,

To pour you into racing streams,

Up into rainclouds,

And over waterfall edges.

My spirit aches for a crack in the concrete

To sprout her passion

And rise into buttercups.

[luckandcaffeine]

Shit My Actor Roommates Say

"You wanna know a sexy secret??"

*silence*

"If you feed me pineapple, I'll get

small mouth ulcers😏

[luckandcaffeine]

Static

My eyes burned yesterday.

And my soul ached.

And I had to respect that for one reason or another

It was a day in which I wouldn't get up.

I foolishly believed

That the static would clear

"Just after this rough week"

"Just after I took meds"

"Just after I slept"

Just after I convinced myself wholly that I didnt need the static in my head and the chaos in my bones, the tragic melancholy, to be uniquely mine.

But it doesn't clear.

The static isn't a sickness you get to sleep off.

The static isn't beautiful,

Or romantic,

Or intentional.

But healing, but growth, is not a linear function.

There will come another day with fiery eyes and empty breath.

But there will come clarity in the blazing sun

And unwavering peace in the rain on the roof.

Hope flies in on a Peanuts band aid

And a gas station slim jim.

Carefully curated for you.

Hope seeps in through the warm eyes

And palms pressed into your shoulders

And a soft "I love you"

As your tears sink into the cotton fabric of her tshirt.

And you search for yourself in her cheekbones.

And the fire clears and the chaos calms.

Because she is here. You are here.

And the static didn't beat you.

[luckandcaffeine]

Details

It's in the details you leave out

That your stories hold their truth.

I'll tell the memories of you and I

And the reckless misjudgment.

Every sitcom style story,

With a hook, a build, a climax, a punchline.

But I won't say a word

About the way your skin feels against mine.

They'll never know

The curdling wrenching compacting

In the linings of my body

When I knew I had one chance

And I sure as hell couldn't waste it.

I'll tell marvelous masterpieces

Of stars and satellites

And grass in my hair.

But I'll hold delicately close

You melting into me.

I'll cracklingly curse

The man with the camera

Chasing thunderstorms in our way

In the place we chose to hide.

But I'll never curse your hand in mine

Or the kisses we managed to sneak.

Or the profound safeness

In the heartbeat pounding in your chest.

Keeping time.

Reminding me that you're here with me.

You're here.

And that's not a cascade of creative poetic prose.

Not a punchline.

Not a story or a curse.

Not words I choose to share.

But in those details lie the truth.

Pure truth.