Hi. I Write Poems.

milo | 33 and ardent | they/them

[the-worryin-librarian]

me writing poetry: so this one is about drug addiction and suicidal ideation and this one is about the ✨ magic of friendship ✨

[the-worryin-librarian]

big bad wolf

the sadness settles right back in

like it never left

clings to the inside of my ribs;

all it takes is a friend to drive

to justify the purchase

and the laugh that burbles up

when I remember that actually

I love being high

feels heavy in my throat;

you snap your fingers

and again I’m a wild little thing

a sly devil with eyes gleaming

doing the math

wanting to be cross-faded

thinking about the pain killers

I keep in the drawer;

feeling feral feels free

and I told my therapist

I’m a wolf

with its leg caught in a trap

if I can’t get out

I know how to gnaw off my own limb

and, my god, what sharp teeth I have

[the-worryin-librarian]

it’s daybreak, I’m mourning

the world spins on the point of a needle

the world is a matchbook burning

the world has stopped

the world is vomiting on your front porch

the world is sixteen, is sorry

is phoning home

the world is your smile

is laughing

is the sound of a violin played over the loudspeaker

is going to be okay

is together now

is coming home

[loveridden1999]

my two moods these days

[the-worryin-librarian]

do the edges first

I puzzle piece my evening back together

try to pinpoint where the drunk starts and stops

how I got the bruise on my hand

and the deep conversations that I’ve had and forgotten

but all I really remember is the dancing

is sweating to the bass and my friend

yelling over her shoulder

I’m so glad to see you happy

and me yelling back with my whole heart

me too, me too

[the-worryin-librarian]

keeping pace

I am tired of incomprehensible rememberences

of duct tape hearts

and the writing of trite things

how far can a mare run if you let her?

right off the end of the earth, maybe

and untethered by anything, she could race to the stars

to a place to be found,

to be loved

how nice it is to dream

that somewhere out there,

she’s running with me

[mournfulroses]

Franz Kafka, from a letter to Felice Bauer written in 1913, featured in Letters To Felice

[the-worryin-librarian]

six, tomorrow

I want to say

that if I don’t kill myself through all this

it’ll be a miracle

but instead I ask when’s your flight

I’ve been spending a lot of time

with you lifting me off the floors of bars lately

done a lot of drunk crying

that I don’t want to be like this

tried to buy drugs twice

and I really don’t think a single god damn person

chooses to be queer

it’s too painful to wish on anyone

to be different

the way you fell asleep on me last Thursday

saved my life I think

the way you said “when’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

how you tried so hard to make me have dinner

when I couldn’t even stomach myself

I want to break down, to say thank you

but instead I tell you

to kiss your mom when you get there

to say hi from me

let you know I’ll be here when you get back

it’s the least— it’s the best I can do

[the-worryin-librarian]

shut up, mozart

I’m already dead but you insist on the sonata

banging the fuck out of the keys

hammering my heartstrings

until the notes are sliding right off the scale—

oh, the metronome! oh the melodrama!

(we’re tired of it all)

did you know? a kicked dog runs twice as slow

but the moon still shines through a broken window

all this nonsense and garbled prose

can be true all at once so go on,

try to compromise with a broken jaw;

let me know how the treble clef tastes

you rotten little Amadeus

[curtvilescomic]

Peanuts by Charles M Schulz 

after Edward Hopper 

[the-worryin-librarian]

hey, fuck me up

being messy with people is different

isn’t really what I did last time

and there was a last time, there was.

am I looking for blood or mercy?

isn’t a question I know how to answer

I can kiss the blade and still be unsure

click clack it against my teeth

ask myself if this tastes like living

and come up mean with nothing

[the-worryin-librarian]

*puts head on table* auuuuuUUUUUUuuuUuuuuGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhh

[the-worryin-librarian]

seems like it

I don’t know what you mean when you say it

but it feels like jumping backwards

like two stepping over electric cable

like reversing down your driveway faster

like running— it makes me want to run so I do

I run straight out of there

say I’m late

say I’ve got to go home

but home isn’t there for me right now

home is busy

home can’t come to the phone

so I check the mail

check my messages

say I love you a million little ways

kick rocks, turn over stones

look underneath searching

apologize and let it hang in the air

and whatever you meant I don’t want to know

I just want to go

until there’s no more leaving left

[the-worryin-librarian]

*puts head on table* auuuuuUUUUUUuuuUuuuuGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhh

[the-worryin-librarian]

things I’ve learned since telling more people I’m nonbinary

my friends do love me. no, really. for real. yup. they do.

I LIKE CLOTHES NOW?? I spent four hours at the mall and it was fun???? wild.

all the weird snap judgements I would make of people in my head (and then immediately recant and feel bad about) just evaporated once I let myself be myself. turns out being a critic was about self criticism. oops.

the label of trans does fit me. it’s still terrifying to think about, but it is true.

99.9999% of the things I worked on in therapy but didn’t resolve were just being nonbinary and not out (body dissociation, judgmental behavior, depression with no obvious cause)

I can actually be in my body more now. it is crazy to me I went so long without the feeling of my mind and body being together (iykyk)

[the-worryin-librarian]

repetitive thoughts I didn’t realize were gender dysphoria until recently:

man I wish I could take my boobs off and put them on a shelf and leave them at home

I really hope that in the future we have augmented reality goggles and can all choose what we look like to everyone else

I think about my body like a robot that I pilot. Like: that’s not me, that’s my robot.

oh, that doesn’t bother me because I just dissociate all the time.

clothing and fashion is something I can’t seem to comprehend. Why would you want to adorn your body? I don’t get it.

I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to take care of my own body. It always seems to come last on my to-do list. I guess I need to get better at prioritizing.

Crying every time I had to try on pants at a department store

[the-worryin-librarian]

Thinking I just have bad posture because my shoulders are hunched all the time and I tend to walk looking at the floor

Believing that feeling joy through clothing is not something I can experience

Immense stress and sadness surrounding getting ready for any event where I was expected to wear very feminine dress (homecoming, prom, holiday events, my wedding, etc.)

Wearing clothing other people give me positive feedback on which has to “be enough” for me since I “can’t” experience happiness through clothing

Choosing not to care about my appearance since it brings me no joy either way

[the-worryin-librarian]

impact play

you call me wasted

and it takes me half an hour

to get you to drink a glass of water

but I love you

so I stay on the line

even though you’re talking about your addiction

and it’s making me itch for mine

I close my eyes

listen to your broken sentences

take deep breaths

make sure you’re safe and inside

try not to think about cutting lines

think I love you, I love you, I love you

and when I hang up the phone

my whole body aches and wants it

hurts so bad I have to cry

but of course, you’re allowed to hit me

because it’s you