kathy

somewhere, on my way to something, in a lonely hotel room

[poetryonchilledwine]

This isn’t as good as real life

[poetryonchilledwine]

im lying down in bed at night, terrified of myself

[strangeandromeda]

i long for a somewhat simple life now.

a cottage, in the woods, old clothes, a cd player, no wifi, worn sheets, dishes, homecooked food.

long walk every day, a consistent yoga practice, maybe a sense of peace.

like a fighter, in that fantasy book you’re reading, worrying about what will happen ”when all this is over”.

plants, a garden, herbs, sunflowers, a few cats.

of course, a nearby town where i can go buy food.

but imagine having the time, the time to be quiet, time to read, to paint again.

i’m terrified and i long for it.

i’ll go to the city every once in a while, to meet my family, to hear about my friends adventures.

of course, there is the money question. how will i make money up there? i have no idea, but i guess we’ll see. maybe i’ll find work at the university, and i can spend time up there working on my papers and such. or, i’ll find a career in art. imagine painting things up there, then sending them out to the world.

it would be nice, you know.

perhaps, you’d come with me, one day.

perhaps, you’d return, torn by the world, but you, my soulmate, maybe you would come back to me.

it would be nice, you know.

[poetryonchilledwine]

corners of mouth

curled upwards

weak

mad

there

[poetryonchilledwine]

something youd consider rare

shadows are dancing

martina and zella pouribg their souls over me

a bit more rational than midnight

but i now see the fruit of my labor

and it’s not pretty

i stop the pulling

and examine my tools

examine my words

examine my memories

[poetryonchilledwine]

i haven’t felt this way in a long time

guess this was why the black ink was my saviour

my weapon of choice

no colors to be found in this black and white, quiet world

i feel at home

but not quite

like i’ve been on a very long vacation

this was why i always stayed up so late in autumn

i get it now

i haven’t felt this way in a very long time

[emmaface23]

I can’t say

I’m numb but I feel everything

My voice is quiet but my thoughts are loud

I feel the weight of the world pushing me to the ground, I desperately want to get up but then again I think it may be better if I stay down.

If I say these things to you it won’t matter so much, you’ll listen, only listen.

I have all these hopes and dreams but I feel helpless in achieving them. I’m stuck.

The world is spinning so fast I can’t lift my feet off the ground.

I’m not good enough I tell myself this on a daily basis. Maybe if I say it enough others will start to believe me, what will I do then?

My nerves cry out from the tips of my fingers my heart is always at a quickened pace, sometimes it’s so loud I can hear it in my ears. Sometimes that’s the only thing I hear.

I wait for words to flash across my screen or a phone to ring… but they never do.

Silly me.

Where did this all start? When did I start being stuck? When can I stop?

Was it you?

Are you the reason I feel sick

the thought of wasted life.

Wasted time.

My time.

No that’s not it…

I opened this door to this feeling in the pit of my stomach, but that wasn’t enough so I opened a window and then another and a other.

Now I’m only filled with panic it’s if the house is on fire but I’m fine with sitting here while it burns.

It’s burning me from the inside out and no one can stop it not even me.

The fire started long ago I can almost remember it

My heart beating so fast the silence so loud…

My world felt like everything was ending

Then it all stoped

I forgot but I remember now

[asorcererpoet-deactivated201904]

Squatters rights

Sat in circles engulfed in putrid smoke a green hazy libation swallowing another day and laughter and foolishness a word disassociation game and the higher reasons why they came together and all the non-committal desires they have to make a change

Loud parties raging shaking the walls stacked amplifiers crack the air above the background humming electric youth are gathered there

Beer cans fill with ashes a dancing girl with double wine some were dressed in leather dreadlocks fly a pit of limbs turning cyclic hardcore will never die

and neighbours and landlords and councillors unite these hellish noise freaks have little respect for heart attacks and strokes the sixth section of the old squatters rights hung like a talisman to secure the abode

Stuffed chicken up the chimney the doors were all blocked ripped plaster from the hallways and the carpets were soaked and on to the next place no rent paid notice for eviction came too late they’ve gone away anyway

[cloneofthecavalryarchive-deacti]

ATTENTION PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, I think i have it now and i appreciate it.

I’ve just made a bet against my Dad that if this post gets 2 million notes then i can get a Puppy. [like the one underneath]

I didn’t realise how much 2 million was and i couldn’t take that number down now. It should look like 2,000,000 in the notes bar.

He’s convinced that this will never reach that number, and very confident about it so Let’s prove him wrong!! He thinks this will get about 25 notes beofre it’s left in the dust.

You don’t have to do it for me. But for the point and to prove him wrong. He has to pay and everything so let’s make him suffer with it!!

I’m counting on you!!!

Remember it’s 2,000,000!

[drakes-hoard]

REBLOG PEOPLE

[houseofraes-deactivated20180704]

I have no issue contributing to this

[youcandoiiiit]

Come on guys

[bby-bluejay-deactivated20200217]

puppies are fun. get this person a goddamn puppy.

[poetryonchilledwine]

okay !! so i wrote lyrics. song lyrics. finally, this is like something i’ve tried doing for a while. so,,,, this is lyrics for @peachybeatss song yellow - i’ll upload a vid on yt of me singing it tmrw i think,, this is still like the second draft and i might change some things up still

yellow / my love’s in paris

veggie ragu coming up my throat

hot chocolate from this morning still on my mind

throat is itching

dont want me to make sounds

but still, still i’m singing

Like ive done all the night

halsey on the toilet

staying in this head

billions of people

i cant finish her hair

the shades of brown no they just aint enough

Like her empty gold and the love that she gives?

cover me up x5 ish

Let me hide inside thecotton

Let me drop, drop my paintbrush

Then i go on tumblr

I only need to type in t

and the rest fills in automatically

my loves in paris

and im stuck in my skull

screaming it out

inte som maj

My loves in paris x3

[poetryonchilledwine]

What if this summer was the only taste of real love i’ll ever get?

If that is the case, i will savour those words whispered on the bench outside of the cafeteria in the summer friday morning sun forever. When she whispered ”my boyfriend is a cult leader” the first time. And Martin. I will be firever thankful for bringing us together. That time i was so angry, the words we exchanged in the bathroom outside of the school classroom. The summer afternoon, walking through tullinge, wanting to show you my favorite places. Endless nights chatting. The time we bought gifflar and loka crush after a fotoklubb. Then fell asleep in front of lord of the rings. And sigrid’s, of course. That night we walked for four hours. When you kater said that was one of your wildest and happiest memories. And it involved me. Not him. Of course, tge sleepovrr at your place, when we stayed up with alva forever and talked about our demons. When you walked and dropped the water bottle, oh boyy. When i met you at the train station. When you told me about how he had hiven you bruises for the first time. How you cried at espresso house. Sitting by the sea. I remember you liking my outfit. When you texted me saying you felt sad, and i convinced you to meet me. Was it in october? When you told me about the blade cutting into your thigh and wrist. His fist hitting you the day after. Threatening you with a knife. How we hugged. Your tears against my jacket. In the middle of stockholm, the cars racing by. I tried to stop you. You went there.

We met again, a few weeks later. I had made a rock-hard shell around me. Summer was over. This belonged to the summer. With the rain falling outside, I couldn’t handle it anymore.

Another few weeks. I heard he is seeing a psychaiatrist now. You had finally found a good therapist. Maybe you don’t need me anymore.

I dont even know what drove us apart. Is it me seeking space? You seeking space? School, different schools, drifting apart? Looking for safety and happiness?

But the feelings still hit. I still lay awake at night, sometimes, listening ti old music, our old music, trying to penetrate the shell i’ve built around myself. I don’t know if i’ll ever succeed, if you’ll even be alive next summer. If we will be working, be busy.

But i do know, that i love you. In every way possible, in a hurt, torn-apart way, in my own way, i love you. And let me never forget that.

[poetryonchilledwine]

now

or never

the words

the thoughts

they’re filling my head

i tell them

i don’t want to fight right now

and i try

and i fail

and i try

and i fail

and i try

and i tell myself

now

now

now

now or never

they tell me,

50 years from now

you’ll remember this moment

everyone remembers this moment

but i don’t want to fight right now

i just wanna do it

now

[poetryonchilledwine]

I dont think i can write 1000 more words today im sorfy nanowrimo

[poetryonchilledwine]

nanowrimo culture is being really close to crying of anxiety but still finishing your word count of the day because you are insane

[poetryonchilledwine]

Eila steg på tåget, lyckades få en sottplats, vid gången. Hon älskade att vara i morgonrusningen, se alla dessa människor leva sitt liv. Hon kände sig alltid som ett spöke, någon som man visste inte skulle vara där, som svävade några centimeter över markytan. Spröda gitarrsträngar och orgelsträngar tog henne framåt. Hon älskade att titta på medelklassen, som gjorde det här varenda dag. Hon förstod inte hur de kunde leva ett sånt liv, hon hoppades också att hon aldrig skulle vilja leva ett sånt liv. Så... säkert. Att ha barn, partner, bostad, pengar.

Håret blåste frsmför hennes ansikte i rulltrappan, kalluften kom emot henne som en vägg. Kappan täckte kläderna från natten, hon visste inte om hon var på väg hem till arvid eller till skolan där hon en gång gått. Svarta skinnhandskar i hand fortsatte hon gå.

[poetryonchilledwine]

somewhere, on her way to something,

in a lonely hotel room,

there sits a girl.

her name is unknown to the world,

but the world is not unknown to her.

she has it all by her fingertips.

[poetryonchilledwine]

you call me a dreamer?

more like a maker of nightmares