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@the-deadest-dove
"But a poem is never actually finished.
It just stops moving."
My name is Sebastian, but I also go by Dove. I am 20 years old
It/It's pronouns are strongly preferred, but he/him works as well.
Welcome to my burrow; This is a secure, confined space where I intend to share my original works of poetry. Feel free to read them, I like to think a small bit of my soul is inside each one. All expressions of fiction are welcome here.
A thought
A girl left in darkness, deprived both pleasures and pains of the human experience
She sways lightly, cradled by the hand of those who seek destruction
A girl finds herself warm for the first time, butterflies fluttering in her ribcage
Face to face with a new experience, a warm gaze trails up her form
Begging to devour
Sparks like fireworks, her amygdala lights up like an explosive
Love is an unknown concept for her
Love is a strange feeling
Kicking and screaming, fear takes hold once again
Biting and thrashing, begging for forgiveness
Love surrounds her, snaking up her thighs and towering over her senses
Love grasps her tightly, throbbing tears bruising her insides beyond repair
Nighttime comes like a bad omen
Suddenly, the girl hated herself for being in love Her wants and fears contrast
The contradiction breaks her mind, and causes her perfect script to derail
The flooding gore that would warmly embrace her before no longer does the trick
It has grown dull and weak by the guidance of times marching arrow
White blood cells put to great work over an eternity of endless jitters
One more fix, a last solution. Fog fills her mind as a realisation hits
For the first, and last time.
A string connects her to this world, and to the next. All she has to do is kick off and release
A girl unafraid to open her inner library to the world around her
Reduced to a ragdoll, free will a blur
A swift comprehension that her cradle shall be home forevermore, rapidly approaching her conscious as the twine between worlds pulls at her windpipe.
The girl hated herself for being in love
Luckily, the she killed herself just in time.
29/06/26
Pit
Cruelty is kindness
The pit in my stomach that grows with every mean word will soon sprout branches, blooming blossoms emerging from within.
Growing and growing, they slowly start protruding out of my swollen throat, tearing my vocal chords apart
Ruthlessness is mercy
How I've sworn, to speak my mind; now completely null and void
My trepidation, my timidity. You must have trained me well to see me this hypnoid
The branches are growing in nicely now, despite my hesitation. Despite the pricking of thorns against my fingertips
Harshness is care
You keep feeding the pit
The pit in my stomach that grows with every mean word
The branches protruding through my ripped up insides are in the shape of your perfect muse
Your words have formed these branches, molded my flesh into the perfect canvas for your artistry
Finally, I am yours to devour
13/06/26
Expendients
The conductor in my head moves with swiftness
A facade for his harsh strokes of genius
Up and down, he gestures
A staccato demanding order, an aria forever going
Boxes and shelves, filled to the brim with crumpled papers and spilled ink. Neatly organised in their special way.
Imperfect words discared and forgotten
My knuckles burn and bruise at the conductors cruel order of clarity.
A poem of my subconscious, filled to a state of overflow with unfinished sentences and held back words.
I try with might to keep them chained down, but the conductor knows me too well.
His hands are cold, mercilessly swatting at my trembling fingers as more vomit spills out of my throat, a sorry excuse for words.
Compartmentalize, organize, put away
A poem never finished, words never spoken.
The key carved from my ribs forever lost to time
The conductor in my head keeps everything organised, and my hands keep moving.
06/06/26
Breathing Gearbox
Ticking away. Every second a turn to the right, and every mistake a turn to the left
Back and forth, it ticks away
Machines that make mistakes are discared
Banshee in the shadows, screams its shrill tones into the parabolic microphone
Static overwhelms the mind of the almighty, and the faulty machine is discarded
In the fall of night, a banshee screams with all its might
Into faulty machines that will never hear it
As above, they ask to hear its voice. The shadows beckon for a sign
So below, it can only feel the breathing of the gearbox
Human eyes enveloping every crack of light
It tries to scream, its vocal cords torn apart
As the faulty machine clicks once more, to the left
The only sign it will ever leave
Breathing gearbox
Back and forth, it ticks away.
06/06/26
Guts
Red light illuminates the operating table.
Guts are strewn about the surface, a delicate display of depravity.
Organized neatly, but disgusting nonetheless.
A cacophany of meaningless static pierces my skull, drilling for treasure inside the terrified amygdala. Pandoras box being senselessly prodded for tiny scraps of hope.
The lump in my throat is carried by Sisyphus.
How many words must I choose not to say before they finally break loose, orderlessly piling out of my mouth like a nest of wasps. Buzzing around in a sense of fight or flight; in their own right, drilling their way out.
Red light burns my eyes, forcing them to close; but the doctor beckons them to open up again.
My guts are strewn about his operating table. Slender hands reach for the rattling wasps nest, and I can no longer stop them from drilling their way out.
01/06/26
True Justice
The Christian father does not care for all of his children
For all of his children are not created equally
When I am at my core constructed incorrectly
The Christian father does not look upon me with mercy
Instead, he cast me aside into a world of torment
A world where he doth not look upon his children, for he would only see us with shame
When the thunder rumbles in the night, it lights up my veins
It growls in my heart
The mother of the moon shines light on the night that calls my name. The father of storms strikes down foes that do his kingdom injustices.
I am his kingdom, I am a church. My salvation starts at my core, the father of storms has shown me true justice.
Sometimes I think of Ganymede
And wish I would meet the same fate.
May the lord of thunder take me away from this plane and bring me some place else
Even as a cup bearer, my fate would be better than the burning scorn I faced from my "intended" Lord
Ganymede may look upon me with pity
While I look upon him with envy.
Golden cups bear heavy on his shoulders as shame and guilt bear heavy on mine.
If I could offer, I would offer to switch places.
13/05/25
Attempting Haiku
Ink drips from my pen
Puddles form on the paper
Time to start again
-----------
Now having finished
Everything said, silently
My mind falls asleep
01/06/26
Night of torment
Wishing death on someone is a level I never wanted to stoop to. But wrath has always overtaken me, always will too.
The fiery pit of wrath will swallow me whole, for I am his child forevermore.
Hearts are filled with hate. The core of a hearth shall burn for eternity
The night of torment, where moonlight shines through the cracked glass.
Hard concrete floor pushing against skin, laying down in a void of tears.
The night of memories that will never fade
The night I wish I could revisit
The night I have terrors about every time I fall unconscious
I wish you did it, that night.
That night of torment.
Bugs eat too
Bugs need to eat too
We squash them, we stomp them
Just for eating, just like we do
Bugs eat too
After all, bugs eat you
Bugs eat your flesh
Bugs eat your bones
When we're all gone
Bugs will make sure we repay our loans
Bugs eat too
Bugs eat you
There's no difference
We're all the same
The Earth will eat us all
For all that is ours
All that we steal
When our time is up
Our loans are his to claim
19/12/25
Amy is my friend
Amy is my friend
She is nice to me
Once I got hurt, Amy gave me a band-aid
But there was still blood underneath.
Amy always has band-aids
To help those who are hurt
Once my leg was broken, and blood spilled on my shirt
Amy fixed it, she put a band-aid on top
But there was still blood underneath.
When I fell down the stairs, Amy was there
She ran down quickly, pretending she cared
With a smile, she put a band-aid on me
But there was still blood underneath.
Amy is putting her band-aids everywhere now, because so many people are hurt.
These bloody, disgusting band-aids. No matter how many she puts on top
There's still blood underneath.
Amy is gross
I don't care how much she tries to hide the blood
It's still there, underneath
Amy must like the blood
Whenever she's around, it starts rushing like a flood.
Amy likes to hurt people
And I'm going to tell everyone.
16/10/23
Stop for death
I tried to stop for Death
But Death did not stop for me
"Not yet" he said, lowering his head
It's not your time yet, child
A cold hand reaches out to me
Taking it in my grasp feels like fresh snow
Loneliness flows through him, it is cold here.
I stopped for Death
But Death could not stop for me
"Let's get you home" he said
Taking my hand he leads me to the comfort of a warm bed
The warm sun shall rise once more
Until the day where you shall
Take my hand again.
05/09/23
I think im just gonna start posting my collection, but they will be out of order 😭
I've basically never posted on tumblr before but a friend suggested I post my poetry here. I might consider it
While I do take lots of inspiration from Doki Doki Literature Club, my poetry is still my own and gathering a crowd might feel too vulnerable or enclosing. Comparison is the thief of joy, perhaps it has been good keeping it only to myself
Its me !! Im the friend !! :D
I've basically never posted on tumblr before but a friend suggested I post my poetry here. I might consider it
While I do take lots of inspiration from Doki Doki Literature Club, my poetry is still my own and gathering a crowd might feel too vulnerable or enclosing. Comparison is the thief of joy, perhaps it has been good keeping it only to myself
LETHAL COMPANY - BRACKEN ⚠️👁️👁️
LETHAL COMPANY - JESTER ⚠️🤡
