thel0neleyquill

My ideas, writing, just thoughts

[thel0neleyquill]

Welcome!

Hi! I thel0nelyquill!

I'm a newer writer looking to get feedback, and ideas, and just share what I've written! I'm always open to chat about anything!

I like movies and TV, writing, and just anything to do with any kind of story.

[thel0neleyquill]

06/09/24

I love stories

The flow and rhythm

The arc and bob

I have always loved stories Even before I knew how to pick up a pencil

I knew the story of the frog and the bear

And of the hero I would hold them to my chest at night

And they would glow with the warmth and attention

A paper lantern in my heart

Delicate, fleeting, and alive

They were my friends and I was their keeper

Even before I knew how to read

I knew the story of a person

The lines on their cheeks

The lilt of a voice

Human nature is the most perfect poetry in existence

And I find such joy in its intricacies 

And contradictions

But most of all 

I find joy in stories

Even now as someone who is too learned for child

And too youthful for adult

I tend to that hearth

Grateful each time it warms the pads of my toes 

The crown in my head

But most importantly the heart 

within a cage of bone and fear

[thel0neleyquill]

Ode to A Thunderstorm

Thick air

Pounding lungs

The locusts have gone silent

Small leather wings bruised from a once clear sky

Their eerie music gives way to a darker quiet

Smokey paintbrushes across the sky

Black veins to cover

A fresh canvas of dry bluegrass 

A sickly sweet scent choking 

A small ripple on an even smaller pond

Gone in an instant only to be replaced by a twin

Looming kings cover the sky 

Imposing

Regal

Just and equally as unforgiving

[thel0neleyquill]

2/23/24

I don’t feel the same as I used to

Pain, clawing at my throat

A Suffocating cold,

Icicles crystallizing across my cheeks and down the curve of my eye

Now thawed, carved valleys left in its place

Scouring and scarring

But gone

I miss it almost

A phantom limb and ghostly hand tracing the knobs of

My spine, counting each protruding bone

But never touching the skin

Tantalizingly close in memory.

My fingertips are still bloody from it’s thorns,

But I have already tasted the iron in my lips and the flavor has long since faded

What I would give to

[never]

feel the rose’s kiss again

[thel0neleyquill]

Old Thoughts /3

12/20/23

Recently I’ve been watching movies and ignoring my friends. I prefer them to real life. 

[thel0neleyquill]

Sewing /1

2/19/24

Recently, I’ve found myself picking at my own fraying edges

The self is a stubborn hangnail

Twice as painful

Half as noticeable

Sometimes I pick at the edges so hard that bleed

The origin of the universe spilling out from under my skin

 and those are the days where I am the freest

No longer tethered to who I am, or what I should become

Spirit floating through endless sky and clouds 

I breathe with the world and feel it breathe with me. 

[thel0neleyquill]

12/30/23

Only 24 more hours left

Until my life gets

Infinitely more complicated

Why can’t I stay a kid forever?

[thel0neleyquill]

12/29/23

There was a hotel by the sea. Inside the hotel was a worker by the name of Lenora Tenessee. She was by no means an open or homely woman. She was built sturdy, tough, practical. Not a single wasted curve was present on her body. It was as if the universe had declared her to be too stern to even consider making her to be anything but the epitome of order. I met her when I was sixteen years old, on a family vacation. My parents had other parents to talk to and my brother had other boys to play with, so I was mainly left to be with my own thoughts. I had run into her when I was supposed to be out at the beach and was instead lounging in the room, listening to an old cd and pretending to be a vaudeville style. She didn’t knock, but instead merely appeared, a drill sergeant of housekeeping blowing the bugle for a day’s beginning. I immediately withered under her icy gaze and attempted to slink unnoticed out of the room, her hawkish eyes following me on my path. I ended up going to the beach. After that, Ms. Tennessee was everywhere. When I took the trash out, when I loitered at the concierge desk, when I went to check out a floating raft. My own personal guardian angel, from hell, that is. This all came to a head on the second to last day of my trip. I was rather snackish and was attempting, quite unwisely, to shake the vending machine in our hall for a loose treat. I was just about to give up jostling and begin punching when a freezing presence rose behind me. There she was: towering over me ina green maids uniform, brandishing a well-loved feather duster with a downright terrifying scowl. I was in it. She reached a bony arm into her pocket and I was near sure that she was about to bring out something terrible to punish me. A horsewhip maybe or even a bottle of cleaning fluid to permanently blind me. I closed my eyes, mentally tallying the nearest hospitals and coming to the realization I most definitely didn’t have the money to pay for hospital bills. I braced for a hit, but none ever came. I blinked an eye - in front of me was a strange sight. Lenora Tenessee holding a bright red, crinkle wrapped chocolate, smiling. At this point I was sure I was either crazy or the worst judge of character ever to walk the Earth. I’ve never forgotten her, even to this day. I will never visit that hotel again nor will I ever feel the icy stare of a severe housekeeper again. Somewhere in a town long forgotten by poor souls like me, there is a hotel by the sea. By which, of course, is the resting place of one Ms. Lenora Tenessee, by no means an open or homely woman, but a woman all the same - one who still lives in a the lifelines of my heart.

[thel0neleyquill]

12/28/23

Waves crashing on the shore

Eroding away the last semblance

As the sky tears itself apart

For my amusement

And I watch and I smile

And I feel the lifeblood of the sky

run

down

my

cheeks

The grooves of my arms

The soles of my feet

[thel0neleyquill]

12/26/23

You stupid child. What makes you think he would ever want you? It’s laughable.

[thel0neleyquill]

12/27/23

Cherry red lips, jewels of her visage

Temples to my insanity

Shimmering in the evening glow

Blood spilled

Tears wrought

Love lost

[thel0neleyquill]

12/25/23

Christmas Star

The air was chilled, cutting directly through thick coats and wool sweaters as if they didn’t exist in the first place. She sat delicately on the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over the rusted gutters filled with rotting leaves. A curl of steam weaved it’s way around her jawline from the well-loved mug of peppermint tea to her left. The old Indian blanket - a gift from her great-grandmother in a time long forgotten - was draped on her shoulders. A sharp stab of wind caused her to pull it closer. There was an old radio just behind her. It was a fading red and black with a dent right above the disk reader from the time she’d dropped it at age 9 and a chunk out of the handle , shoddily patched up with duct tape from a similar occurrence with her brother. An old jazz track crooned away, Chet Baker, lamenting love. She payed this no mind - her gaze fixated on the clouded night sky. A disappointment to any astronomer, muddy and confused. However, every now and again, a cloud would slide aside revealing a cluster of golden stars, the night’s treasure.

[thel0neleyquill]

12/22/23

I hate people. I hate social pressures. I hate that I like being alone the best.

[thel0neleyquill]

12/23/23

Lately I’ve been thinking about drowning. Not in a kill-yourself kind of way. I crossed that bridge a long time ago. I’ve honestly just been wondering what it would be like to fully submerge myself, losing any semblance of humanity and drifting away, inhaling lungfuls of water instead of air. Feeling it flood my throat and float away, my inside and outside finally matching.

[thel0neleyquill]

Late Night Letters /2

A letter to a desperate me:

He asked me how I was doing.

He asked me what was new.

He said that he never sees me.

That’s true.

At least to me.

But it’s a lie

That crawled out from his lips

bitter and deformed and not quite false

I saw him the day before.

We talked for an hour;

About life, about school.

And he has the audacity to say that we never see each other.

I caught him watching me, too,

smiling.

Intrigued.

I know, I’m reading into it.

He’s a social person, and I’m an animated doll.

Just for entertainment, not for living.

Not a real girl, strings still

Strung tight, binding me to the posts of my

Mind. No blue fairy

to liberate me to the land of the real.

Guess I’ll stay delusional.

WHY?

Why would he do this? How could he make me believe that he could actually care, that absolute ass.

Out of any rejection I’ve had, this by far stings the most, but tastes the sweetest.

Melting at the top of my tongue,

Gone before the bitter aftertaste

Slithers, elusive

Down

My

Throat

I texted him back, of course.

I have no self control when it comes to him, never have.

…

[thel0neleyquill]

12/18/23

I hate in between sleep. That sleep where you’re just conscious enough to know that you have to get back and are clawing against your consciousness, locked in a brutal battle of endurance, but feel all too exposed. The barest of human feeling at the precipice of my skin, just barely kissing the air. I hate this because I know that when I dream, the world that I live in is so much better. It isn’t real and that’s what makes all the difference.

[thel0neleyquill]

12/16/23

Choosing to live is the most contradictory thing in the world. I love it. I hate it.