#blueejay

[caticoo]

@blueejay asked me to make this !

[strawberryminefield]

you showed me one, i show you another.

[strawberryminefield]

Tragedy is me, they say. A shadowy presence lingering; locked in curses of my own mind- alone and moribund, something that fell from the heavens, I'm a time machine paradox- days spend with angels of death with their song notes clutching on to me like vices, like home, became foreigner of my own bed. The Voices have found their den in me. Committing sins through my fingers, finding skeletal cats in hallways- there's so much light here though none can help me see. Quieter fragrances from the daffodils are lies derived from the storybooks from my Mother's wombs; Have I become a prisoner of insanity? Or have sanity enslaved me, constantly reminding me that clock wise is the only "right" way for time? And where is god when you need him? And why am I even searching for the One who's given me less when promised more? Are you the one with macabre laughter, the blood on my hands and spasms in my bones? I'm a hellion submerged in prayers eyes wide, mouth ajar, thirsty for answer. I have been abandoned by Her and Him, left in ghostly silence with my demons and I've never felt so free in this darkness- an impostor laced with mannequin smile, a stranger who knew himself to be a stranger.

-

it's best to travel in an unknown world with a blue jay on your shoulder. (but here's a map, just in case) 

[artisticallysuppressed-blog]

Legend

Let our children claw their way out of wombs as though they’re buried alive in a catacomb. Let them march to the battlefield with only fists and purple knuckles. Let them tear down the earth and dig for life. Let them discover thorns lurking among rose bushes. Just let them. Let them find the pools of blood scattered around their homes. Let them feel fear ascending like spiders and building cobwebs in the passageway of their throat. Let them murder their own innocence and roar like long streaks of baleful thunder. Let them die with scabs stretching long across their chest so they are mistaken for tiger stripes. Just let them. Maybe then we can shove poetry in their mouth and have them swallow the silence that breathes between every word. Maybe then they would choke on every punctuation and howl like a lone wolf calling to his pack. Maybe then they’d realize that there is no happy ending and kiss their mothers’ feet. And If I ever have a daughter or a son, I’d call her the sky and him the ocean ‘cause if I know of any story that never ends then it’s those two elements. Simply because they know no bound when it comes to adventures. I’d let her walk on constellations and him on tsunamis. Their fingers will meet right at the heart of the universe and sparks will shoot out from the tips, detonating to create new galaxies. So shake off the dust at your shoulder, prepare for the soldiers giggling on swing sets and architectures on playgrounds. They are born as warriors and as warriors they’ll leave, carving legend in perceivable spaces in our skin. To all the children that left long before living—this is for you.

by blueejay