in so many words @ohfeeliyah - Tumblr Blog

Although the wind

blows terribly here,

moonlight also leaks

between the roof planks

of this ruined house.

- Izumi Shikibu

#poetry #poem #literature #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #quotes #inspiration #dark academia #spilled writing #spilled ink #prose #creative writing

“Cesspool”

#poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #poem #original poem #poems on tumblr #spilled ink #creative writing #spilled writing #original writing #spilled prose #poems and poetry #prose #my writing

letterful

#poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #poem #spilled ink #creative writing #spilled writing #original writing #spilled prose #poems and poetry #sad poetry #original poem #writing #poems on tumblr #my writing #lamentations #prayer

weltenwellen

Joanna Klink, from "Wonder of Birds“, Raptus

After a Night Out

all the little moments of shame accumulate and you feel a vague despair. the feeling of having to put on a mask also fuels this shame and despair. the pride you had about your satisfactory performance turns into a devastating awareness of your loneliness—no one knows you entirely. you have to make an effort to be something that people can stomach. you play pretend so that you don’t feel ashamed and then this very pretending causes you great shame. these are the thoughts that keep you awake.

#original writing #writers on tumblr #poetry #original prose #spilled writing #writing #prose #poets on tumblr #poem #spilled ink #creative writing #spilled prose #poems and poetry #prose poetry #poetblr #poems on tumblr

i cannot trust myself

to hold both hurt and love

together with two hands.

i know i will free one hand of love

to focus both of them on hurt.

#poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled writing #literature #creative writing #original poem #sad poetry #sad poem

flowrrs4u

I am good. I am loved.

ohfeeliyah

there is nothing you can do for them. the one who pounds on the walls of your soul, beside themselves in rageful grief. their weeping will go unheard by any besides you, and their wounds will remain untended.

but these cries unsettle you. like those of an infant stranger who wails inconsolably, you are disturbed by their helplessness—as well as your own. you find yourself incapable of reaching out to them, and they cannot voice their distress with anything more than howls of imprecise anguish.

you and the mewling creature of your soul are locked in a prison of inaction. you know your neglect prolongs their suffering.

to soothe them wasn’t meant to be your responsibility.

and still you long to aid them.

and still you fail to do so.

“Inner Child”

thoolibul-ilm

thank you so much for putting this extremely frustrating part of healing into words. you want to carry on because you're seeing and experiencing progress, but the wide expanse of grief from what you failed to or didn't receive growing up intimidates you.

it's great you don't need others to heal but it is incredibly isolating and lonely to carry the heavy burden of your own well-being. it's also exhausting when those inner children take hours or even literal weeks to soothe before you can address the underlying hurt. you do your best to be patient with yourself because you know those versions of yourself are that way due to continuous invalidation, suppression and repression. their responses are real but might not reflect present reality.

having self-compassion takes time and a lot of forgiveness, 2 things that are hard to come by. still, when you reach that point, you'll feel grateful for all the effort.

you are worthy of healing and growth, and always will be.

saintsebastiensbf

Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca

The worst thing I ever did

was let myself be loved

when I did not want to be.

Now I am a monster.

The sickly-sweet

is poison to me.

I need to be hated

to be set free

and through the door of isolation,

I will meet my destiny.

#poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled writing #creative writing #original writing #spilled prose #poems and poetry #original poem #sad poetry

setharion

A Highway over my Headstone

They’ll build a highway over my grave,

no one will grieve me, no one will pray.

I’m not one to leave a lasting impression

on the hearts I touch.

Maybe not in person, but hopefully on paper.

If I could tap into my well and quench my artistry,

oh, the things I could accomplish.

My imagination in full force—stronger than the roots of a tree.

The limitless potential I hold seems so close,

yet my pen speaks a different language than me.

If I could express my deepest grievances

in a way that society understands,

then maybe—even when the cars rattle my headstone—

I’ll be at peace, knowing my bones will be remembered.

-Seth Arion

it is not the flesh’s fault what it houses, it is simply there to hold everything. and yet, sometimes, the flesh holds evil. it serves as armor to something rotten beyond comprehension. as if the host to a parasite, sometimes the flesh encases cruelty personified, it shields a vile soul that doles out misery as though they were invincible and not made of the same mortal flesh as those they terrorize. it is not the flesh’s fault what it houses, but how liberating to remember that flesh is alive, and that everything with life must wither eventually.

#original writing #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled writing #creative writing #spilled prose #poems and poetry #prose #this is def not about any political figures at all lol

intactics-deactivated20250505

in one of those phases of crippling existential self-doubt where the nervous horse that controls my productivity is just lying down in the mud and won't get up. the horse is asking questions like do I deserve carrot for big jump if big jump meaningless and is it wrong to be a horse. I'm trying to goad it with compliments and treats but so far the horse won't bite, it's too busy ruminating about the cosmic value of horses

intactics-deactivated20250505

we're telling the horse you can make the jump, you're such a special horse for being able to do the big jump, everybody loves it when they get to watch a big jump, you will get so many carrots, and the horse is not buying it. it's just snorting at us. the horse is saying well there are other horses and flicking mud at us with its tail without getting up. we're telling the horse: but not for us! you're the only horse in the world to us! what must we offer you, nervous horse? o, nervous horse, take pity on your believers!

intactics-deactivated20250505

the horse is questioning the validity of a system in which carrots are rewarded to horses who make the big jumps, seeing as every horse wants a carrot and big jumpers are few, and wants to know why we can't love it for its talents in identifying threats like plastic bags blowing in the wind & being so alert it has a nervous breakdown, instead of expecting it to jump all the time, and perhaps the horse would enjoy a career in calligraphy or nursing instead of this jumping for carrots rigamarole. our negotiator was forced to state that the horse is, nonetheless, a horse. the atmosphere remains tense.

metamorphesque

"I`ve lived to bury my desires…", Alexander Pushkin (translated by Maurice Baring)

weltenwellen

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, Rien ne va plus

there is nothing you can do for them. the one who pounds on the walls of your soul, beside themselves in rageful grief. their weeping will go unheard by any besides you, and their wounds will remain untended.

but these cries unsettle you. like those of an infant stranger who wails inconsolably, you are disturbed by their helplessness—as well as your own. you find yourself incapable of reaching out to them, and they cannot voice their distress with anything more than howls of imprecise anguish.

you and the mewling creature of your soul are locked in a prison of inaction. you know your neglect prolongs their suffering.

to soothe them wasn’t meant to be your responsibility.

and still you long to aid them.

and still you fail to do so.

“Inner Child”

#writers on tumblr #prose #poem #poetry #spilled prose #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled writing #creative writing #original writing #poems and poetry #writblr #inner child

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