and then, everything

sorry about the space metaphors. any writing posted to this blog is mine.

[saloume]

there is no point in dancing when they can’t see you weave your hair with mist and pray, again, again, to that terror in the sky, to that sun they speak in voices that scratch down your spine and gather like sweat between your fingers, behind your knees, like it’ll never be over, and there’s nothing you can do, anyway sway your hips a little more to appease the monster in them back against the wall, slip through their legs and run, run, but not too far or they’ll notice how your breath hitches and they’ll see how your eyes dart and they’ll know it’s not a game and remember, always, that it’s okay to beg for your life

DEADGIRL // e.k.

[saloume]

I like to imagine life on Jupiter: there’d be no word for inertia. the ground, unfathomable. falling, a fear and nothing else. these creatures, born from the winds, so complete in swirls of storms and rapids. the air would tug at them and it’d be sweetness, not violence, to their blowing bodies. they’d look at our birds and the half life they are living, and they would never understand them.

e.k., life on jupiter (via glitterstcrms)

[starsmithing]

i met her one morning by the shore, shoes forgotten in the sand. she told me she was here with the sea and the waves and depths proclaimed her worth with each lap at her ankles, each salty tangle in her hair. and if I’m being honest all the while I couldn’t tell where the water ended and where she began.  the mermaids I drew after that were all women in love with what couldn’t love them back, but did.

they had swapped their lungs for gills, two legs caught in the currents // e.k.

[starsmithing]

how come these days it's more acceptable to be a ghost than it is to see them?

e.k.

[starsmithing]

right now, your heart is beating, your lungs are filling and exhaling, your skin is warm and there is something inside you pulsing and burning and shaking. you are a recombination of sieging fire and dust and stars and cobwebs, but you aren’t any of those things. you also might die tomorrow. you might die in ten years, or twenty, or in sixty-two days. in your sleep, in a coma, or awake. does it matter? it probably doesn’t. because existence still reigns over non-existence, and all that is matter counts more than all that is lost. life is temporary but in itself it is a closed circuit. one day you’ll stop being, but being itself contains all the time you will ever have, ever feel, ever witness to be real. when you look back at your life it has a starting point, and maybe an end already. but the hours and days, months and years, all these decades? they’re all you have and death never counted. and it never will. what you have right now is an unending lifespan of finite moments and memories. do i really have to convince you that life is in fact infinite?

e.k. 

[starsmithing]

I'll definitely show you when I get some tattooed!

oh gosh okay! you're really sweet ❁˘◡˘❁

[starsmithing]

I love your poetry so much that I want to tattoo it on my skin so that I can read it forever but sadly I do not have enough room to fit it all.

oh my GOD !! getting an ask saying someone loves my poetry is one (amazing!) thing, but getting an ask like this? that's in another universe wow thank you. to think you like it enough to want it on your skin permanently baffles me i'm so amazed right now

thank you so much. and if you ever decide to actually do it please show me i'm pretty sure i would cry with joy

[starsmithing]

I have been waiting so long to find these poems. I have tried so hard to write them myself but now I have no need. Your poetry means so much to me and I've never been so eager to devour every sentence like the ones you write.

oh my god, you have no idea how much this means to me (or maybe you do?) and it amazes me that a piece of my internal life put into words can touch another person this way. thank you, for letting me know. you're giving me strength to keep writing even when it's hard.

[starsmithing]

or maybe i am the water. and it is in my nature to attach and detach, to yearn and be and be and be, as wide as i am deep, as lonesome as i am loved by many, feared by just as much. my slippery fingers can’t hold though they can drown with too much ease, and even those who’ve learned to swim in me grow pale and cold and leave – to return another time, maybe, if i am lucky. some write me letters, some people’s dreams i can fill up, but don’t i ever see them. don’t they ever touch.

e.k.

[starsmithing]

in our imagination, the world as it is ending looks a lot like the world did again and again over the course of its millennia, when it was rumbling and burning, storming and spitting, turning and turning in ellipses around the sun. none of these times were its end, though several were its beginning. so i dare say the look of thunder on your face and the shaking in my bones is more of a sign that i’m going to live, than die.

e.k.

[saloume]

Letting go is not an act of thunder and rain, not always.

[saloume]

The sea foam brought you in; from where, I do not know. It cracked and shuddered when you left it, but you were still, and you were cold. Aphrodite danced from your lips and found herself a home, but you were still and you stood tight Against wind and all the tides and I did not offer you a hand. Too wide were your eyes, too easy your feet and I must have thought, I mustn’t try to grasp you Or you would disperse into salty air and curse me from the sea beds, every night, until they’d come to take me, too.

e.k.

[saloume]

[starsmithing]

to R.

[starsmithing]

i don't rebel against existence; i rebel against you putting boundaries on mine.

[starsmithing]

[starsmithing]

to R.