#written prose

[kelseyapperson]

It was with a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach that I realized this was not a good idea, not at all. On the scale of ideas, this was quite the opposite. Poorly-informed, without proper motivation, and haphazardly executed. Getting to the other side of this idea, I thought with great distress, would be the single greatest accomplishment of my life.

[qthedisciple]

Guidance

I lay sleepless but present

Trying to manifest my now

Abundance in all of its glory

Seems to be chasing me down

With little regret, I lose

My ego becomes unsettled

The power of letting go

Induces my hardware’s metal

As the moonlight shines bright

I find peace in its knowing

For, my intuition’s true peak

Becomes mighty and glowing.

How did this come to be?

I wonder in complete silence

Angels pay this question no mind

As they send me their guidance.

-Quinton Horne

[kelseyapperson]

i'd be lying...

if i said i wasn't broken, again. my heart shattered and my stomach knotted thrice over. some days it hurts to breathe. i've forgotten how to cry, how to mourn, how to hurt. it's inside me, the anguish, i can sense it. but all i feel is weary. because life is a ferris wheel, and we'll never be up for long before hurtling right back down, over and over again.

i've cut so many ties. they bound me like cinder blocks, their false smiles and hollow words masking morality poisoned by superiority. but they kept me grounded, too. and the smaller my circle grows the more i find myself reeling. i might just float away. and part of me thinks that'd be okay - to no longer be.

because if i am not, then i do not have to grapple. i do not have to fight and i do not have to demand my spot. let them take up my space, let me fly far away. i am but a drop in the ocean, what worth do i have against a tsunami of ignorance?

but i am a fool, and i endeavor to disturb the universe. and so, my weary bones cannot rest. they cannot turn from the litany that is life. i must be bold and brazen. i must reform myself again, and again, into a more realized me.

i will never be whole. i will never be right or enough. all i can hope for, all i ever hope for, is better.

[kelseyapperson]

i know, you want me to cower in the dark.

it's why you took away all the stars, tied the moon to a line and yanked it from the sky.

darkness is your way.

but i was born of darkness. it's in my veins and my soul, it's always been a part of me. i'm not like the others, because i've dealt with your type before.

i can make my own light. i always have, i always will. i know, it hurts your eyes to see me shine.

you'd rather i bury myself in my trauma and insecurities, but i've always been too stubborn to let a bully dissect me.

you didn't break me. don't take satisfaction in knowing that i'm desperate for you to shine that light back my way, because i could care less.

i've got enough light within me for the lowest depths of the sea, and you never did scare me.

you're just a shadow, and when i shine i can't even see you, anyway.

[qthedisciple]

In A Dream

Immediately when you leave

It hurts the most;

I always perceive it as

My fear of the unknown.

I start to think of the unseen,

And of what’s gone;

I don’t know where I’d be

Without your bones.

Your structure and jive

Make me feel so alive,

That I can’t sleep at night

Without your love.

I take it as a dream,

But I know you’re real;

So when I’m wide awake,

I’d rather my eye lids be sealed.

Because at least in a dream

The pain of loss subsides,

And you’re smile comes to mind;

In a dream you’d always be by my side.

-Quinton Horne

[qthedisciple]

I Am Incomplete

I am incomplete

At this moment

Tumbling down

My humble peak

I can only guess

This means war

Time to gear up

For another one

No adversary

Nor avenger here

My own demons

Have returned

A certain facet of

Our circular fate

I am prepared now

For my demise.

-Quinton Horne

[ask-a-gotham-mortician]

[dulcettone]

well i learnt of exhaustion like this; hidden in the crooked crevices of free time, surprised out of me when someone sends me a text comprised of “onto the next?” 

i learn of it the way you learn something you’ve already known in the back of your mind. it’s more confirmation than anything, a reminder that every step you take has something heavy in it. it is more like an old friend who grabs onto you when you don’t want to follow, but the history there is too deep to just wade past.

do you know how many syllables “tired” has? did you sound it out to check? did you notice that saying it aloud sounds like an exhale? i think it’s nice that admitting that you’re tired feels like letting out a breath. i think it’s strange how if you say it enough it stops feeling like a word at all.

i don’t know, really, but i do know is that you can bear a lot of things for a long time, that you can get used to things even if you may not want to. i am tired, and exhaustion is a cape over my shoulders i don’t know how to undo. i am tired, and i no longer remember what it’s like to not. and that’s, really it, there’s not much else to write poetry about.

i’m just a little exhausted, is all.