𝐹𝐼𝐿𝑇𝐻

Poetry Blog // Confessions of a Rotten Girl 𓆨

[softclawedkitten]

The poetry collection to my regular blog @softclawed, to keep everything in one place. Again; potentially sensitive content // Knock yourself out. Everything posted here is my work, do not share it without direct credit. Feedback is welcome!

pfp art isn't mine.. by @/ruinedbeauty_ on instagram

[softclawedkitten]

Poppy Leaves

Poppy bouquets to me. Sinking in the still tall grass, sensitive joys passed unto me by the annual man.

He treads off the trampled path up the hill, steps up to the height of still tall grass. In the halms his weeded face parting of the red of his lips for humbled ground. He, himself kneels with his vailing bequest I entreat: Merry me

he did, the annual; men proposing fickle joys, popping seeds past poppies trailing off the paths.

[softclawedkitten]

Strawberry Bits

Sobriety distilled arteries chafe euphoric irritation slurped up. Soft lumps sloshing above mouth palate. Sensory fuzz welling up in the throat, curdled blood. Swallow.

Bliss in the stomach pit, gulped strawberry bits. Muscle twitching under the tongue, marijuana-numbed. Mild pumps jamming soft stifling mold clumps. Uvula saps rampant discharge flourishing squash. Disintegrating coiling mash. Disintegrating, coiling mash.

[softclawedkitten]

Pliancy Play

Soft pink walls spreading at the fingertips, gooey paint dug out leaking on deposted bed. Mellow gouge, red hyacinth swells between the hips. Cheap vodka bottles in the yard. Scooped tissue sliced on glass shards.

Scraped bud trembling, dulled, succumbing, pruned soft spiked thighs. Harvest lain on warm bathroom floor; callow pink walls, ripe. Shut the blinds.

[softclawedkitten]

post Confessional

Grace pearls in my hands, magnanimous kisses to my feet.

Liquid silver churns from my lids, pearl handcuffs to delicacy-skinned wrists. Paper Angels taped to the walls in valley of the dolls.

Salvia salivating salvation. The knuckles urge, push unrooted sprout to conserve. Full-fledged white strains the skin.

Lips feeble, my reason falls victim and paperclips bend. My chalk skull crumbles, beneath my soles, exegesis mills.

I swallow the seeds. I punch my tattered mind. Tart stimulation, kick to the rusting spine – I punch my tattered face.

Contamination gorging restraints.

I lull the fraying dolls post confessional.

[softclawedkitten]

Comfort

Tubes cling to the maggots, squeezing milk out their bodies. Popped larvae shells wrung dry wedged between lapping folds. Pulp mushing inside the bowels, sugar filling dumpster guts.

I hugged the burst garbage bags and quilts of maggots covered me.

[softclawedkitten]

Entbound

Creeping from the seams, seeping through the wounds; a body blooms Scarlet I am leaking out of me.

All gaping mouths full dirt, I'm cradled by the earth.

[softclawedkitten]

Hii I really LOVEEE ur poems , would u like to be moots with me ૮ ´͈ ᗜ `͈ ა♡ Have a hoppy day.

hello!! Thank you very much, it means a lot to me. Yes, I'd like to, I also like your blog! you have a hoppy day too 🐇

[softclawedkitten]

Refuge

Frolicking for forest finds offering branched obediently the bushes mime with me meek and sweet and lush are their berries lashing out at me from behind the leaves bow to the triumph unleashing the Beast

[softclawedkitten]

Chaplet Customs

Legs folded over as diptych, with stripped knees prostrated on renaissance stone. I speak the Glory be under may's dome.

Thy ivory statuette has prevailed over thee, therefore I hail by the bead. I will bring what world has bequeathed the banished children of Eve. Combat boots' tread - Each is

Heil Mary,

blessed is the fruit of thy womb, bad sons. Belief bears no qualms using my gun.

Mother of Mercy,

kindle now prayer for me, for duty son to consecration.

The smell of the garden's animals fouls homage I bring Hail to the prowl.

[softclawedkitten]

DOG WILL BITE

Muzzle me, metal bars. Saliva on grass.

I am vengeance, violence.

He is appetite-full belly, gum recession, jugular eater on a leather leash.

To satiate: I am big veins, dog bait. His barks on chains, I hear him growl - my stomach billow. Pulse and swells.

The plate makes me Muzzle I chew ; I bite back. and I bite Myself.

[softclawedkitten]

Purge (Hebr 9, 22 f.)

Wilted flowers bloom. Wilted flowers bloom in filth as their petals cower.

It mends cotton wounds for the heaven's sate. With metal, steadfast it abides the gate.

The shepperd has sheared, reaped his word's wool of his most pious sheep; On the grass halms its drool.

Beseeched by the choir to pry its teeth. Been handed a set of pliers, been beseeched.

It ate the bait. Now chaws razorblade, a mouthful of God's flesh; It gurgles the spate.

Its tongue jerks and cowers. Purge tastes sour in wilted flower pouch - an Angel's mouth.

[softclawedkitten]

Cable binder straps your throat. Your tissue body's weave plagued by tears and holes. Adored and patchy, rosy cheeks.

Puckered with needle stabs. Love holds whole by thread. Sewing up your vocal lacks, stitches treading up your neck.

Stilled without a mother's milk, a proudly stuffed-out breast. Flower lace collar, frilled frames your fragile hardened head. Stomach-down on a guilt-free bed;

porcelain shelfed. You're crawling on my chest.

Baby Portrait Doll

[softclawed]

How do you write your poetry? It’s so beautiful!! I’m trying to get better but I’m finding it very hard. If you have any tips can you please share them? 💗

Thank u so much!! I'm flattered

Edited as of 12/April/2026, because my style has expanded and I have more to say on this.

I write intuitively, i. e. I don't write just to write, I write to express something.

I actually write most of my poetry when my mental state is actively deteriorating or just in the midst of borderline panic attack and sobbing.

I start writing whenever I have a grasp on something that I want to express, so I approach it with an idea of a feeling or case. Though I often deter from my original approach, either throughout the course of the poem (I never actively know how any poem will end) or in an entirely new attempt of writing that poem (if I just continously fail), which is why I think it's important to not bind yourself to any initially imagined approach.

I overall think it's important to not bind yourself to anything when writing because it's your writing. I generally write free verse (to label it) so I don't care too much about rhyme or metrum. I adapt it if I feel like it will convey whatever I'm trying to convey best.

I think there's a lot to be done if you write freely, even without any big stylistic devices. Line breaks work well to add a sense of passing (slow or fast) or emphasis and tensions and choosing words also based on how they sound (if you think more of reading it to someone or being song lyrics) and not just because of their meaning can soften, disturb, ... I really don't read much poetry and so the most poetic input I really get is song lyrics.

Words are obvi important because that's your (basically) sole medium. While writing I look up many, many definitions, synonyms and I often translate words between English and German.

To portray a feeling (...) it's often best to visualize it and show it to the reader instead of just telling them. Just in general working with visuals should be a priority. They shouldn't just be an addition but part of that feeling (for example, feeling 'disgusting' can take many, many forms depending on how this is visualized and made concrete: Vomiting all over yourself or rotting from the inside or being chewed by animals... ?) Still, that doesn't mean it needs to be specific. How (un-) specific something's description is, is also a great means to convey. This is obviously also an aesthetic thing, so the visuals I choose are heavily influenced by what I see in my day-to-day and aesthetics I like. Also think of describing something intangible via tangible things.

I am often bold enough to just take a line or wording from a song or a fragmented post I see online and incorporate that into my original writing ('Zähne, weiße Zangen' is from Zunge by Till Lindemann, 'Sacrifice sighs and...' is from one of the posts under my cross tag, ...). I at that point retire searching for a different way to say whatever I take because it either inspired me so greatly or I accept that this is the best possible way to express that very thing (or at the very least I cannot express it any better). Such direct phrases or wholly original lines that spring into my head can often not be immediately incorporated into the poem I'm writing, so I take note of them on the side to add them when it's right and often work to incorporate them, but I never force myself.

Sometimes (admittedly very rarely) my poems are finished right after I'm done writing them. But for the most part I will revise them and for the most part revise them greatly. The most important thing for me is to capture this grasp on the feeling/case I want to express. The first draft does not need to be good, as long as it can hold that expression. But I never really stop making small edits. When I write my poems down properly or reread them online I continuously make small alterations. I somehow (this has always been, maybe because I cope via writing) am very detached from my own poetry. I need to put in very serious effort to feel anything from reading it at all. But this allows me a less subjective revision, so I just read the words and grasp their impact and don't actively feel them. I work hours writing and revising every poem, sometimes over the course of weeks or months. But just for general rule of thumb, it's finished when it feels finished.

For more direct tips I would suggest to openly engage with what you like and not shy away from emotions even if they're uncomfortable, they're disturbing in the best way possible. The best way to improve your own writing is to read good writing. At some point you get an (intuitive) feeling for it and that will do much more than anything I could suggest. Work on your vocabulary. Get familiar with stylistic devices, but write freely nonetheless (as if that feeling/case needs the freedom to express itself). And practice. I first picked up writing 3-4 years ago and have been really actively writing for a year again.

I am also still learning (as rewriting this and rereading my own pretentious poetry has proven lol) & improving so don't take this too seriously.

Lengthy, so hopefully helpful. I genuinely enjoy answering detailed and in-depth questions, so for any further ones dm / ask!!

[softclawedkitten]

When do we get another poem?

...and what is your own favourite piece you have written?🖤

Next few days presumably, am currently writing and revising two!

Can't single down, really... 'Purge (Hebr 9,22 f.)' would be one. I firstly am a sucker for religious themes, and therefore like the imagery I manged to use. Also the non-religious visuals to portray, I just adore. It's also one that isn't so overtly disgusting, it feels very meek and mellow to me. This is also a strong belief of mine which is why I'm proud of having written something on it. 'Dahlias and Milk' is the other I want to name here. This was one that I got to unravel after writing it, because the idea that I intended to express didn't make it. Though I think the result is even better. It honestly fascinates me, this writing of mine, I think it is great, really great. It (from my 1 feedback) entices disgust and I am happy for that. Again, I adore the visuals here. Also well written, as the previous. I think about both of them often and either I would be most likely to show someone to present my poetry.

[softclawedkitten]

Prescription Medicine

Pill bugs in my metal box, rolled up and pill bugs long and slender. Pill bugs eating litter I've eaten, eating plastic caps. Liquid-squashing drugs pill bugs, soaked are crawling in their lair of pellets and gelatin.

Pill bugs thriving in digestive sack, loving moist and wet. Pill bugs eating pill bugs I've eaten, eating tergite plates. Pill bugs chewing away lesions out flesh bag. Pill bugs aiding breaking-down and pill bugs feast decay.

Pill bugs starched, on the kitchen cabinet in powder in pill box pill bugs trapped in two-piece gel – Pill bug encapsulation.

Pill bug diet against therapeutic inertia. Pill box rattling, pill bugs wriggling before organic matter plated. Pill therapy ail resulting pill bug compost pile brain.

[softclawedkitten]

Absolutely love your poetry...please publish them so I can buy 🖤

thank you, really, for appreciating it! it's very reassuring and it made me glad. I just am in no place to publish my poetry (by material and means), but when that comes I will certainly post about it!