#junk verse

[astormyknightwrites]

A collection of scrap verse written over the course of summer and autumn 2025.

[astormyknightwrites]

Seasonal, Cyclical Doubt

The kind of tired

that takes up residency,

has settled in my bones.

Taken point below my eyes

settled as grey shadows,

and blue-green bruises.

An immigrant based on choices

made in the nativity of my youth,

constant questions

about the validity

of my stay.

What do I have left to offer?

When I'm running on fumes,

with little to no prospect of a refuel.

[astormyknightwrites]

Imposter Syndrome

Gentle imposter,

How can I foster

Your growth

Into practical, actual skill.

Broken and disheartened

When with all that

I have studied

Why do I feel

I've let myself down?

[astormyknight]

September 22 2016

I know I’ve got potential,

What I lack is motivation,

To turn it into something physical.

I used to have a gift for turning phrase,

Now I’m afraid it was just a phase.

Something I should have nurtured

Far more freely when I was younger. 

[astormyknight]

2/June/2015 - Untitled poem for Roxanne.

I love your cute wee button nose, I love your sunshine smile. I love the way we chill together, Even when the internet cuts out for a while. Thanks for accepting me for who and what I am, To do the same for you I'll try better than the best I can. You came into my life at a strange time, Someone else had broken my ability to rhyme, and be happy with life. I know for certain that I love you, Even if we're uncertain about when I'll be able to touch you. I know things are complicated, But regardless of what we go through, I promise to support and uplift you. You're my best friend, my place of rest, Even if we have quite a few tests. You'll figure out what you have to do, And I'll be there by your side, supporting you.

[astormyknight]

Day 19: Holding

A spectre snaps suddenly into existence as a small child hauls her first breath into her lungs. As she begins to cry, a rosy light flickers on in the claw like hand of the spectre. Only the midwife can see it. She shakes her head as she presents the baby to her dishevelled mother. The midwife shakes her head, this child is going to be a lot more trouble than she’s worth.

The child falls into the river trying to save a lamb that lost its footing. The spectre stands on the bank the rosy light held aloft in its claw, guttering like a candle flame in the wind. The child struggles. She hauls the panicked lamb from the current and into the shallows, the lamb skips away. The girls feet slip in the loose gravel. The current sucks her under, only to spit her out back on the bank some metres down the river at what would be the spectres feet, if it had any. She rolls onto her stomach and vomits, river water and breakfast hitting the soil. Worried voices come closer borne by hurried footsteps. The girl rolls back onto her back and stares at the sky. A spectre cradling a rosy ball of light in its claw like hand appears in the corner of her vision before she passes out.  

A snake shoots out from the undergrowth and strikes the teenager on her ankle. The poison rushes through her body, she collapses. She is carried home on the shoulders of her best friend, the witch doctor is called. The spectre watches on from the shadows, ball of rosy light cradled in it’s claw-like hand, the light flickering for only the teen to see. She recovers four days later. The light settles and burns bright. The spectre fades.

A young woman stands in the middle of her village, short swords in both her hands. Her betrothed with his back pressed to her. They’re surrounded by the enemy. There appears to be no hope, no escape for either of them as the village burns around them. A spectre sits on the rooftop, rosy ball of light held aloft and guttering in its claw like hand, despite there being no wind to fan the flames.  The young woman spots the spectre out of the corner of her eye and grits her teeth. Surging forward she hacks off the head of a spear, and then its wielder. She charges with a blood curdling roar, the enemy begin to falter. The light in the spectres claw glows blindingly, if anybody else could see it, they would have dropped to the ground in shock. The young woman and her betrothed survive the attack and lead their people to victory. Their enemies lay dead and defeated in the street. The spectre fades out of the young woman’s line of sight.

A woman lies in labour. Her first born was coming breach. Both the midwife and the mother to be are aware of the spectre, rosy ball of light guttering in the palm of its claw. A nervous husband paces outside the hut, his footsteps rhythmic like an army march. The woman grits her teeth, challenging this pain to end her. The midwife flutters around doing her job, sweat on her brow and the hair on the back of her neck prickling at the eerie presence. The rosy light flares, temporarily blinding both the woman and the midwife, the cries of a new-born echo in the dawn space. The woman’s husband rushes to her side and pushes the hair from her face so he can plant a kiss on her forehead. The midwife cleans and swaddles the baby before handing it over to the proud but tired parents.

An old lady sits beside a grave marker. Her husband has been gone for eight years now. Her children long since married and having families of their own. She lives alone now. The nights are cold and her joints are sore. A spectre flickers in the corner of her vision. She sighs. The rosy light held in its claw-like had is faint. Reaching over she extinguishes it. Her heart stills. The spectre pops out of existence. The world keeps turning.

-Kai Dearlove 9/5/2015

[astormyknight]

Day 18: Sympathy

Word Count: 329

Series: Attack on Titan

Pairings: Ymir/Historia if you squint.

Warnings: The earthquake in Nepal happened pretty recently, and to an extent this was inspired by it. I’ve been in a situation at least twice in my Univeristy career where I’ve been with friends finding out news about massive natural disasters affecting their home countries (Japan 2011, Christchurch 2011, various bush fires/storms in Australia). This is not me taking the situation lightly.

I’m thinking of including a longer part of this in the mega College AU I’m working on for Yumikuri. Largely because the story itself is somewhat based on how I’ve interacted with people in my own experience at University. At the moment it’s a tiny drabble.

Sitting slumped in her chair in the student dining hall, Ymir watches the images flash across the oversized screen. Usually sports games occupy the space, and rowdy students sit down to dinner or lunch screaming encouragement at teams or sportspeople who can’t hear. Now though, on a lazy Saturday towards the end of April, images of Ymir’s hometown, images of Ymir’s country of birth, flash and flicker. The ruins of her cultural heritage standing forlorn onscreen by tons of rubble. The human cost is even more apparent, people are desperate, people are despondent, and people are mourning. People are pulled from collapsed building. Ymir is in shock. The atmosphere in the dining hall is considerably more sober than usual. She can feel several pairs of eyes flick to her, a mixture of curiosity, worry and sympathy pulses in the air.

Only her close friends and fellow RAs approach her. Historia slotting into her customary seat on Ymir’s right, she is numbly aware of tiny fingers lacing with her own. Eren and Armin sit across from her. Eren pushes a tray of plain food towards her, Armin a bottle of soft drink, she gives them both a half smile. She doesn’t have much of an appetite. Mikasa comes and sits on her left, briefly resting a hand on Ymir’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Their eyes meet. Mikasa knows her pain, five years ago they had sat down to breakfast together with their roles reversed.

Even Eren knew what it was like to be in this situation. The waiting for a phone call, a text or email – any sort of message to let her know that her family and friends back home are safe, alive, dead or missing. There’s a sense of solidarity at this table in the dining hall as scene of disaster instead of sport flickers across the TV screen. Solidarity in the form of sympathy of friends who have experienced eerily similar situations to this one.

[astormyknight]

Day 17: Acceptance

You can’t fix people, they have to do it themselves. 

You can only offer them support, comfort and advice - make sure it’s not unsolicited - what they chose to do with it is out of your control. 

You can’t motivate someone to keep on going if they cannot find it in themselves to find hope. It’s not your fault, it’s not their fault, you can’t live their lives for them. 

Get going. Move on - if they tell you to move on. For you to accept this has taken far too long.