rust and stardust

I write to calm nerves and make sense of the air in my lungs, to feel bigger than i am - fill the void, cease the hunger, change the world, come to terms with the fact that maybe my efforts are futile, but hey, what if? place cursor over here to view links/go to next page~

[pocketpoetry]

dear undisclosed future: i cannot possibly imagine that  you'd shed some mercy on me because of what you mightve heard  from my old friends past and present, but lemme tell you - i am ready to run into your open arms. as i write this, i am coming closer, i can feel you over (where?) beckoning, leave the front door unlocked, i'll be home soon. as secrets of the pas rarely stay secrets for long, i am not ashamed to say: one night i had let the darkness cum inside me out of fear because he swore he belonged to the light. his lips felt like seeing a shooting star, just to realize, moments later, that it was something different -  nothing but a stupid airplane.  i did not see light in his eyes or his words, but i was blinded by my will to see the good in him. i was mistaken. he was a hunter and i was to be shot down, over and over for as long as my fear let him control me.  it was then i realized i am no ethereal being -  i am not untouchable. at best i'm still a weak little girl with dreams of being happy being sane and breaking down the shame; some nights i can hear the echo of my own voice saying "no" over and over again and it is nowhere close to a battle cry. it is the soulful cry within a fitzgerald song, the roots of pain observed in every vibrato, it is not somber like the stillness of a church, or triumphant like a gospel song, it pierces the abyss like a gunshot and then fades away. it may have slipped their mind, but i hope the present has told you while the shame had once knocked me on all fours, i can finally walk upright again. sometimes the sun still blinds me but i have found ways to recover. the fear does not control me anymore, i have found light in every mark on my body: my body is a novel well-versed in pain  but it is beginning to learn how to let in love. i have filled the gaps in my life with words -  i hope you understand that i am grateful for every second of the pain, because  it has sown the seeds of change in me and i am proud to be much more  than who i was.  dear undisclosed future: i know you may not be kind but through the darkness i have found a strength that light only makes stronger. the day when i finally get to gaze upon your face draws near  every second, and honestly? i can't wait.

[pocketpoetry]

i come to you with words of satin: soft against your skin like waves  lapping against the pads of your feet but  you come to me with words like razor blades: methodically tearing straight lines in my psyche until all i see is red - deep, dark red my whole world is red and then black. 

[pocketpoetry]

fading

scars fade like waves crash. slowly: despite the millions of creams you waste your money on (please stop), days of crying over marked skin  made ugly by darkened pigment - (stupid scars.) avoiding confrontation from those who happen to see; then before you know it -  suddenly they're gone. the wave forms -  blood boils. the wave grows - blade cuts. the wave recedes - skin reshapes. the wave reforms -  skin renews. 

sea monsters may exist -  but you are not the same as a scaly, bug-eyed creature everyone hunts for pleasure. your scars are not scales and (please dont disagree) your past does not define who you are. (i know you'll disagree) but you deserve to love yourself (please don't interrupt) better yet you deserve better than to let yourself sink, to lose yourself behind the lines fade to black, into the abyss into darkness -  oblivion. 

[pocketpoetry]

hidden in the orchard's cage:

mother taught me: i am the apple and  men are the snakes always out to bruise and break the softness of my skin, to make me fall from the comfort of her branches; and as precious fruit, (im sorry dear, you're much more fragile  than you appear) would never  withstand the poison hidden in their strong jaws, flowery compliments, heated stares.

as a seedling i had followed each way the wind billowed but always under the careful supervision of my mother, my protector - whose roots kept me grounded.

time made me fuller, well-rounded. the naive seedling was no more; i became hungry for new experience. i sought to touch the ground, even if it meant  getting bruised. i grew restlesss under the shadow of my mother's branches -  her protection became stifling when, on sun-filled days, all i asked was to bask in the natural light, but instead was shaded by her leaves.

i prayed for heavy rain and winds to tear us apart, throw me to the ground but the gods had been unkind and  graced me with a drought.

on the hottest summer day i jumped, falling to the ground with open arms excited to feel the sun, not caring if i got burned, not stopping to say goodbye.

i threw myself to the snakes; and on the ground i felt a peace encompassing like never before (im sorry to have severed the chord but mother, life should never be a bore) and where i fell a bruise arose a precious fruit i am no more and if by poison, my life i give how lovely it was to have lived.

[pocketpoetry]

dear girl: i hope when the night looks through the window of the pitiful cell you call a bedroom and finds you, you will have some way to understand that despite the too-tall feelings inside your beautiful fragile body- you are a strong fortress filled with strength and courage.

dear girl: i hope when the drugs they watch you swallow reach your chemically imbalanced brain you are able to shake the cobwebs from the attic of your psyche, open the window and breathe something other than dust and dirty memories clear the air, quiet the thoughts. 

dear girl i have watched you recede back into your mind with the silent strength of a buddhist samana and (is it selfish for me to say?) i am tired of seeing you deprive yourself for anything less than a "just cause."

dear girl: we share a bloodline but we might as well be strangers. you speak to me with guarded words and  half-assed smiles while i, the fool, bite back feelings of guilt paired with mental messages of i-should-have-known's as if i have done with tragedies like this before.

dear girl, i hope i can stop hoping at dawn tomorrow. for now, i'll worry until the thoughts  lull me to sleep tonight.

[pocketpoetry]

hi everyone! please note that i changed my url from loserprincesss to pocketpoetry! it's still me so ya pls dont unfollow oxoxo luv u guys

[pocketpoetry]

lost paradise

i fell asleep to the sullen sound of waves: the faint whisper of sea breeze soft against my tanned skin, one nightfall away from another tropical morning.

in my dreams paradise turns dark, no blue skies greet my sunken eyes: the summer breeze has gone away replaced by winds - tearing apart my sanctuary, my blessed grounds the sea air is stifling and i cannot stand the pressure anymore.

mermaids spend their lives wishing to explore the paradise we live on and yet, i find this place more a prison than a paradise the reality damask and dark, and who am i kidding? i have always been afraid of the water no matter how clear the waters are i have always hated the threat of sunburn and humidity and the sea breeze is nothing compared to my air conditioner at home (sorry mom, i hate it here)

but still i pretend to be happy in this place that others find beautiful hoping that somehow this see breeze will make me forget all about home even though deep down i know the softness of the sand is nothing compared to the softness of my unmade bed.

[pocketpoetry]

reflections

i saw myself  in the eyes of a deer so gentle kind and pure stopping me within my tracks before the fawn scampered away

my eyes had seen a glimpse of hope within the stars the brightness kept my thoughts awake before dawn stole each star away

my hands had felt the touch of sin within my palms despite the tinge of ash and dirt i washed the hurt away

i felt the ache of something new take shelter in my chest when wandering eyes  had skimmed the road, to see the fawn at rest.

[pocketpoetry]

the eye sees the arm extended forward in one direction pointed at another extended arm,  fingertips almost touching, paused in mid-air, reaching out - and condemns the stupidity of wanting another so badly to go against the entirety of the body.  it sends signals to the arm, retracting it back to the body  with sudden alacrity and force, and in its displeasure tells the arm to be more like the right foot: always moving forward,  carrying the weight of the body within it's sole. but the skin of the sole grows weak, and the foot grows mindless, shakes with anxiety when the body is still, the autonomous appendage finding fault with  being mindless for so long, wishing  "if only i had the courage of the arm."

[poeticality]

You’re the type of Person who Makes beds Feel bigger when you’re In them And you’re the type of person Who makes hearts Feel empty When you’re not In someone’s bed

[pocketpoetry]

roses are complex enigmas: with interlocking puzzle-piece petals made beautiful through symmetry, everyone loves to admire  the prettiness of the rose. but rip apart each velvet cell strip the skin petal by petal peel away layer by layer and watch the image of beauty slip through your fingers -  nothing left to look at  but the naked vertebrae of thorns amongst a stem.

[pocketpoetry]

alive.

you are my lungs gently moving with each convulsion of my chest: i cannot life without you. you are my kidneys, removing the toxins from my body continuing to save me despite my constant intake of poisons, you rid me of disease  and my brain, though a complex enigma is so used to your presence  that i forget to thank you love you appreciate you even though you are the blood in my veins, the breath in my lungs the oxygen that keeps me  alive. 

[poems-and-insomnia-deactivated2]

To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.

Robert Frost (via poems-and-insomnia)

[pocketpoetry]

which of the two is the true you?

am i the girl shivering alone at night, curled up into a tight ball hoping her cells might shrink, disappear, become invisible overnight - feeling as minuscule and unimportant as a raggedy malnourished mouse hungry for something nutrients cannot provide, frightened of the darkness. anxious in the silence, or

am i the girl whose energy is as inviting as fireworks on the fourth of july, with a smile warm enough to melt the ice off of subzero mountaintops careless in the heat of the moment happily accepting each challenge  that she is presented with?

[pocketpoetry]

my future is one step away so close i can feel it's breath hot against my cheek, always right beyond my fingertips slipping through my grasp like  raindrops falling in between  my careful hands -  yet i can see its silhouette, a shiny bright contrast of myself running fingers through my hair  like a summer's breeze, jumping in and out of my vision with such alacrity that my simple eyes cannot seem to keep up with the pace. it's hard for me to believe in something that always escapes my grasp but i am so close to catching my own shiny shadow, i'll keep on chasing till i die until the day comes that  we see each other eye to eye and i can greet my future kindly as we walk side by side - parallel footfalls, hand in hand.

[pocketpoetry]

ode to beauty

i bend and break my bones for beauty cry and curb true desires for vanity i am a porcelain angel  shiny and bright in the limelight, pretty and polished standing tall  a decorative ornament  on top of your christmas tree a beautiful, miserable fool.  but if i were to fall and break, and my bones to crack with the brunt of my fall; inspect my insides and  see, i am empty nothing of value hidden beneath my  fractured insides nothing but pretty chemicals to offset my pretty smile, a broken porcelain angel that you love to call upon year after year as i continue to uphold this distorted image of beauty. 

[lachrymiformm]

i wanted to tell you so many things but at end of the day, i settled for a “good bye”  and what i really feel will be words left unsaid.