#s.o.c.

[apatternofbreaths]

Cobwebs

I want to be made of cobwebs.

You rattle against the corpses of desiccated insects when you greet me I am delicate but you know, oddly there are always more cobwebs.

They don’t hang together.

They are no one kind of being growing out of every corner as they do- they are more dust than they are strings they don’t hold together but they hover on the wind and flutter over your skin-

they are no more destroyed than they are redistributed.

They are a force of nature more delicate more fragile and less substantial than air-

They are an emotion made visible, but not concrete.

I want to be made of cobwebs catching rainbows in the light and when it is time for me to go I will disappear for a while.

You’ll see me again.

You’ll see.

[goodkindofgeek]

One Piece Portrait of Pirates S.O.C. Sabo

One Piece Portrait of Pirates S.O.C. Sabo

The Second in Command of the Revolutionary Army. (more…)

View On WordPress

[apatternofbreaths]

Ink

My dad and I we draw in ink and everything we feel and think gets scribbled into pages, sheets copy-paste to those we meet who ask and wonder, question why thoughts don’t fit together in our minds instead they stain our fingers, shirts while inking every thought that hurts this fragile picture of adults who know just what to think and do.

[apatternofbreaths]

Windows

I looked into your eyes and fell into your mind and it’s been days and weeks and months and years and I am still dripping with the pride and the worry and the strength I found.

[plastichusbando]

Portrait.Of.Piratesワンピース“S.O.C” サボ

[apatternofbreaths]

Clause: This Collection You Are

But you are the biggest goddamned collection of miracles I’ve ever seen and I couldn’t believe my eyes when you appeared couldn’t see for visions hear for voices and hark, the herald angel sings something Greater when you write prophecies come true at fingertips stained like wine like blood by all the lies that other people told but you yes you are the brightest collection of miracles less like a bouquet and more like a den each miracle writhing over every other for a short while a collection so vivid I cannot breathe.

---

I started writing this poem yesterday and finished it before church this morning, but it’s about feelings I had last year. I think I’m pretty much at the point of feeling neutral about him now; some people, like passing acquaintances from high school, you never see again, and that’s okay. If you do see them, maybe you’ll be friends, and maybe you won’t. Hope he has a nice life, though.

[apatternofbreaths]

Tell the heavy breaths inside these lungs that one of these days all of this is going to be worth it.

[apatternofbreaths]

*untitled*

Hush stand still little child there’s no one here to hear you cry only wipe away the memory of why you started and you wake and you cry and you eat,   dirt ground into your eyelids as   snot drips almost over you lip across the bread   you’ve greedily discovered and you sleep and in the morning little child it’s not okay, no matter what they say but you’re not crying anymore.

---

I feel really uncomfortable about this, but this is something that’s stayed very distinct in my head for a while (like a couple years.)