#rejects+corner

[theguiseofgentlewords]

[adornself]

wanted to dance but i kept spinning towards the butcher - 6/25/26 (adornself)

Def heavy: mentions SA, prostitution, drug use, incest, and medical trauma

[forlornalbatross]

Quiescence

[mother-spore-missa]

so does anyone want to talking about skizz suggesting a meeting tower over water in the new past life episode?

this did NOT end well last time bro 😔

[undertheguiiseofwoe]

[poetryinthedark]

Echo Chamber

I've listened to your litanies for eons;

dogmas and diatribes

against the vulnerable.

And, as I retreat deeper into myself -

introversion from now on,

a kind of conversion,

but with some catharsis

rather than a crisis

of identifying this body.

And, the trauma of smelling death.

I've found solace.

Beneath the slatted beams

where thick marrow forms insulation

from the cold inside, and through

the steepled chambers

hallowed prayer beats

staccato in the hollow halls.

Faithless cacophonies peel off the tolling bell

resurrecting wraiths with a single ring

whose voices burn with something

Unimaginable; liturgies

for the selfish sacrifice...

[profoundfuckery]

I Saved A Space For You (I Burned It All Away)

There are so many small deaths in life.

Occasions where your body trudges on,

While your soul remains there in the mud,

And in those moments you become

Something, someone, somewhere .

There was an occasion, once,

Where I dipped my heart in gold,

Wrapped it, in finest silk,

And placed in a chest, for you.

It died there,

Dried out, forgotten, old.

And so, perhaps, did I.

The fires that consumed me

Remained inside,

My body, my tomb, my prison.

You are the final resting place

For every good thing

That ever could have bloomed in me.

I would name you winter

For your arrival drove my soul to wilt,

But it did not bloom again in spring.

The fields were barren in summer.

By fall we all starved to death,

And when winter returned

There was no evidence at all

That we were ever there.

There are so many small deaths in life.

Occasions where I love you means distant fondness,

And I'm done means you have stolen everything that I had left to offer,

And in those moments you become

Rotten, bitter, evil,

And everything you've ever promised that you would never be.

[travelsinpage]

Begging the mail carrier to come out of retirement to take just another letter

I’ve been learning a new language

Trying to use my

Tongue to impress you

It used to matter

What I wrote so

I took what I knew of

The old alphabet

Iconography

Hieroglyphs

I practiced each part

Of your name

I looked at old poets

All the lines

I wish I wrote

Every line ever

Whispered into my

Very being

And strung them together

To the sound your heart makes

When my soul is

Pressed to it

I studied lost love letters

Famous ones too

Looking for any way

To reach you again

To be on your frequency

To put a crack in the wall

To break it down all together

Brick by brick by

Letter by letter

Scattering all 26 of them

With my hands

Across your

Lips

Reading them slowly

Sounding them out

Like sobs

Pleading for your

Understanding

Im learning a new language

All the better to love you in

But I’m afraid

You’re not at the same address