{ untamed thoughts; }

˚₊‧⁺˖ poetry & prose ⁺‧₊˚

[b99zine]

BINGPOT! is a digital brooklyn nine nine zine that is now seeking applicants!

the zine will feature fanart, fanfiction, and poetry based on the show.

it will be published digitally and all proceeds will be donated to black lives matter.

want to apply?

fill out this form

reblog this post

follow this blog

and that’s it! applications are open until march 10th! happy applying!

[elysianink]

somewhere in the garden i keep in my head your hipbones are still buried. all i have to do is dig them up.

didn’t i always tell you i wouldn’t let go? my hands are still on the wheel, babe, even if the car’s one fire. especially if the car’s on fire. when everything’s going to hell it’s important to maintain control, or at least its illusion. my father didn’t raise me to be a garbage fire and yes i’ve tried to cut him out of me but some things just can’t die without screaming

doesn’t it ever hit you late at night that i’m not where you are anymore? doesn’t it ever run you over, grind your body into the ground with its weight? no more lighting fires together at all hours of the night. no more revolving around each other like two clueless planets. it happens to people all the time, so why do i feel like it shouldn’t happen to us? why did i always feel like it never would?

i think we’re one of those things that just can’t die without screaming.

i never expected you to be so many things at once: the quiet lying on my tongue when i should speak but i don’t, the addiction i am freeing myself of (and it is hard to go cold turkey), the love i feel for no reason between the hours of one and three a.m., and the sadness i feel then too. it makes me wonder, what am i to you? the eclipse of the sun? the wee hours of the morning when you sit alone and empty like an abandoned car on the side of the highway? the rocks at the bottom of the riverbed, worn smooth by pressure and time? i hope i am something beautiful. i deserve it.

for better or for worse, your hipbones are still buried somewhere in my head. i think they’ve helped the flowers grow, somehow.

- abby

[unwrite]

lead us not into temptation

everything you touch turns to rot hold your temptress tongue between your teeth

your cherry mouth is an invitation to partake in the ruin behind your lips

you are the bitter fruit that distorts the goodness of men you are rotten and everything you touch turns to rot

but deliver us from evil 

my soul is indelible, undeniable i am fearful and wonderful and contagious

if i am the apple of temptation then i come from the tree of knowledge

everything i am endures my soul is thick and dark and impossible to scrub from your palms

[elysianetwork]

ELYSIA | a collective

This is a network for writers who wish to meet other writers and share their work - once accepted, members are able to join a discord server and chat with other members if they’d wish.

We welcome all kinds of writers and writing - this is a laid back collective, with the aim of forming a community of writers who wish to share advice and feedback with each other.

HOW TO APPLY:

reblog this post

must be following this blog

fill in this form

(bonus points if you follow me)

Feel free to message me if you have any questions! <3

[ofstarlitdreams]

ii. perihelion | the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is closest to the sun

hope creeps in with empty promises teasing, fleeting then gone again

hope feels like a distant dream for younger souls, full of light you think it’d be kinder to let go— there’s nothing left for you anymore

reunion could not be more sweet than now, your heart lifted from seemingly endless depths maybe today, the universe is kind

she draws you in again ever familiar and still as beautiful her lips tender, delicate the sweetest invitation; this time, you accept

she calls it another way of living— and you? you’ve never felt more alive

—orbit, b.w.  |  2/2  |  first—

part of a zine by @whopride

[ofstarlitdreams]

i. aphelion | the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is farthest from the sun

gravity has a way of pulling you in beautiful, enticing seemingly perfect

something feels missing when gravity leaves her eyes were galaxies; infinite, wondrous but space without her is vast and aching beauty marred by loneliness, longing

time slowed when your eyes first met you think that the stars aligned that her touch was electric you yearn for that pull; it felt like fate

you understand why people run always searching for something more and you understand love; never more terrifying than when it’s gone

nothing aches as much as the chasm of separation and she? oh, she was a force of gravitation

—orbit, b.w.  |  1/2  |  last—

part of a zine by @whopride

[girlhoodnet]

GIRLHOODNET is a network by girls for girls who love girls. It is about loving women, creating art, and enjoying the company of those who do the same. This space is for us. This space belongs to us. To join, please read and follow the steps below:

Answer this typeform.

Follow the blog.

Use the #girlhoodnet on your original art and writing!

Reblog this post!

The admins will decide on members once this post has garnered around 75 notes! More details and further announcements will be made on the blog, so make sure to follow it!

[justscribbledwords]

sin-

white dress painted black smile hiding devious plans thoughts as bad as they can get hurting, hurting, hurting hurting everyone with your words tearing apart bodies just to devour the blood watch tissues and cells fall apart just to make some art tearing flesh breaking bones even if it is your own committing a ‘sin’  just to feel alive in your skin (via inkstay)

[svcredstars]

where is my poem today? I have to coax it out from underneath the floorboards, ink in a bowl, clicking my tongue, enticing it to slink back to the land of the living. it blinks its eyes slowly at me as it pads its way forwards; the poem will come but not without trouble. there will be bloodshed. I place the bowl down and wait. there is no use trying to do anything else; poems are finicky things and do what they please. it pounces. I flinch. my arm tears apart at its touch and words start to flow out. I greedily scoop them up with my hands and start to pile them on a piece of parchment nearby; it is unruly and reeks of sacrificial lambs but the words are there and that’s all I care about. I begin to write. jocelyn

[ofstarlitdreams]

for the star-bound wanderer;  |  poetry moodboard

she is made from lilac skies and stardust freckles, petal soft skin kissed with moonlight. flowers grow between the cracks of her toes, but her head is in the stars, and the milky way seeps into her bones and her heart.

[ofstarlitdreams]

we are all made of stardust but none more than her— it runs through her veins pools in her heart; if we are all made of stardust then she is a star

she is passion, love she burns hot and bright and she is human, utterly so deeply flawed and vulnerable her soul aches with loneliness her mind wanders, creates bliss

you’ll find her dancing to carmen ethereal, free eyes closed, head upturned she imagines constellations bare feet on grass a world where she isn’t kept behind bars

for what more could ease a lonely soul? she yearns to fly away to escape; heart wild and free it itches through every inch of her skin eyes closed, starlight burns on the inside of her eyelids

you can cage her; but she’ll always find a way to the stars

—of starlight and sorrows, b.w.

[different-landscapes]

[meiselr]

Poetry Inspiration Moodboards | magical effect

There is no blood in her veins - only magic.

[justscribbledwords]

i am lost in a room with no doors or windows, with no entry or exit, with no roof or ground, with nothing lost and nothing found

i am not trapped // i am not free

@justscribbledwords

(via

justscribbledwords

)

[meiselr]

Poetry Inspiration Moodboards | constellations

I carry a body full of secrets and my bones align the universe within me.

[fantodsdhrit]

observe

“hush, i have other sorrows too,” she stays in thought, shape-shifts; falls, red as—forest of the flame, winds up on tapestry, unsought like an open letter; leave them unanswered, these questions, they have nothing else to do, bear witness, muse; spent moments erase eros memories, she calls at midnight, hidden in simple laughter, tragedy, virginal desires; with traces of moonrise innocence, she slips on a vibrant sonata, i listen to pauses more, she blinks icy daydreams—i stay fogbound.

[flightpatterns]

young god // halsey