the perfect future @theperfectfuture - Tumblr Blog

You are who I love.

You, with your hair never the same for more than six months - orange, then golden, then platinum

Find me on a step stool in your mother’s kitchen, bottle of hair dye in my hands, painstaking

We’re listening to the kind of music I don’t like, and

It is you, who I love.

You, queen of the thunderstorm, terror of the freshman-year humanities class

And our poor, good-hearted teacher

You social justice warrior steeped in guilt,

You

In sweats, heels, and smudged eyeliner.

You, nearly hidden under blankets in the vanilla-red light of your dusk-stricken room.

You

Are who I love, you the merry-go-round, you the village, you the tiny girl on a balance beam I will never get to hug

You, the stumbling adult who I can never tell enough:

It is you, that I love.

Once, I had a dream of us, five years old and running hand and hand down the shore, fireworks bleeding out behind us. A constellation on the face of god.

You

Are who I love.

You

And the audacity. You, the bold. You, and the dog you call a diva but couldn’t live without. You the vivacious, you the defeated. You, painting your walls at three a.m. You, high on the feeling of a dance floor, black coffee, and a stolen kiss.

We are fourteen, and you are absolutely impossible.

You: dancing across Saturn.

You: crying from the core.

You.

You are who I love.

#poetry

Pride

When I start my painting, I start with three straight lines. Actually, 4 straight lines, to make sure it’s even. After messing up 13 times, I finally got my four straight lines. Deciding to color it in, painting carefully. A very small variety of colors, just enough to fill in the four lines. Mostly pink, cause I am a girl and I like pink. After that, I wrote my name, big, bold, times new roman straight font. Because I am supposed to be confident, big, bold. Being a light font makes me weak. I trace out the letters of my name, the same dull straight lines as usual. But the pen jumps out of my hands creating these lines I didn’t know existed because they are not lines. They were something different. And different is bad. You can’t be curvy in a straight society. Or maybe you can. Maybe its okay to leave your natural curls in. Maybe it's okay to write in cursive. Maybe it’s okay to paint in lots of colors. Maybe it’s okay to draw outside the lines. You know what, I don’t like the word maybe. It is okay to be curvy in a straight society. Its okay to be whatever font your heart desires. Your hair can be as long or as short as you want, as curly or as straight, as colorful or as dull. It’s not just different, it’s beautiful. It’s okay to paint is as many colors, as many shades as you want. Actually I have an idea. You should splash the paint, throw the paint, all over the canvas. And whatever it ends up looking like, be proud of it. No matter how different, how weird, how embarrassing, it might be, be proud. Cause nothing beats pride.

#inspiration #poetry #submission

The Recipe for My Gender

1 pair of converse with tiny flowers embroidered on the sides

A 3 inch long stain of my dog’s spit on a pair of cuffed jeans

4 hours of sitting at a table sewing a pink stuffed animal

1 cup of Steven Universe’s magical healing tears

A teaspoon of they/them pronouns

Exactly 7 googly eyes of varied sizes

A string of fairy lights

13 pairs of those wire elf ears that I desperately want

A cottage in the forest full of love for aesthetic pinterest boards

A tiny bottle filled with the need to create

A single leaf whose ancestors were used as paper by mine

3 cartoon lesbian kisses

A gallon of love for women

A single brick

A pair of overalls

The pair of glasses that I wanted for so long but always forget to wear

187 peace signs and 39 rubber ducks

A gallon of paint that is magically the exact color I need every time I open it

A rustic leather journal that I swear I’ll write in but always forget

And one minute of communication with Orion, the goddess who makes my wishes come true.

Lucian Valentin

#poetry #submission

Can't be kept apart

I got to talk to my girlfriend Riley, today. And I found out from her, that her moms might be switching her to the other half of the week for school, so we can't be with each other. that's so stupid. Her moms are literally trying to tear us apart and break us. You cant keep us away from each other. that's how you break someone, literally its so stupid, just because of my age, they don't what me hanging out with Riley. if you didn't want me to get so close with her and be in a relationship, then DON'T BE AN ASS ABOUT IT. Do you think that's honestly going to work? Nah honey it won't. Riley and I, our bond is so strong that nothing will ever tear us apart. And you will never do that to me or her. This is a new year, no hate no nothing like last year. SO would you stop being a FUCKING PRICK, and trying to make this year shitty, just because your daughter has found true love, and found the one whom she loves deeply. GODDAMN people don't understand us like STFU. let us live our lives and get over yourself. Tryin to separate us, NAH, that's crossing the line with me. If you don't like me then tell me why you don't like me. instead of trying to rip us apart just cuz of my age. That's bullshit, that's so stupid. You're so insensitive, to think that I am bad, and going yo hurt your daughter. I would never hurt Riley, as someone who has been hurt and abandoned and abused mentally and emotionally. I would never do that. AND IF YOU THINK I WOULD DO THAT. then you must not know me at alll.

#poetry #submission

House Fires

Saying that our fire burns

But love has actual turns

Burns like Hells furnace

No one will try to learn us

We act like it don't disturb us

But house fires are the purpose

To tell us that Hell is the surface

This isn't a thing to tell you goodbye

But Imma go get high

Until I saw from the corner of my eye

That some bitch told on me in July

When I was going to use the house fire as a lighter

See, I am only just a young "writer"

Now who's future is brighter

To my party, we will never invite her

I am not a damn talker, I'm a biter

I burn peoples houses down to the ground

After the fire, her body or bones will never be found

Soon they will realize that she is not around

Finally this queen will be crowned

After killing the wicked bitch of the west

Always thinking that she the biggest breasts

Or that she is the best dressed

But now that I showed I am the best

In one of my ninety banks you should invest

On to Hell, because that's where I quest

On how many I can kill, the innocents, like a contest

All the organs that I know how to digest

With blood I have found out that I am obsessed

Always trying to make me get undressed

For the house fire always will suggest

Me running away from you

Something about me is new

It is that house fires are my true love

And I'm flying away like a dove

I thought that I was in love

But instead I was loved

Everything was lost at the end

When you decided to take me for granted

And leave me slanted

And to kill me, your wish has been granted

Where to Hell I have landed

#inspiration #poetry #submission

"How do i put this?" the prompt was 'love'

the pins that tent my skin

are small campers ready climbing the mountain arms

of a rabid hungry love with arteries stuck to it’s paper teeth

sponge hands fog up the glass of the slimy shark tank

i gaze with starry eyes into this not forbidden

not unusual feeling

i sometimes sit before it

fork and knife

attempting to wrestle the grey spine

back down my heaving chest

laugh my dear

laugh when i take my finger and write

it’s a dog eat dog world

on the inside of your ribs

can’t lie through straight teeth his mother paid for

so she tells me her truth instead

he’s said he’s changed

imagine this conversation only lit by stars and a bic and his breath

he’s never been like that to me

imagine this conversation drawn out like spit between two lovers and the friend they didn’t tell

that’s all in his past

imagine this conversation in the present

the vertebrae shoots back up and bruises the tongue

the controlling chew that breaks the bone back down

has cracked and spilled until it’s just dust in my breath

the second lover guides a china plate between my silverware

he’s said he’s changed

lover places the blood knuckle of the first on the linen feast

he’s never been like that to me

lover places another blank femur under her friend’s chin

that’s all in his past

his hand looks naked pressed to my living fingers

Yes

there’s a crack and binding ache

it’s all in his past

my stomach that was growling for closure is heaving up the substitute

it’s all in his past

the water in the glass tank is handing me back a face that’s older than the one I am sitting in

it’s all in his past

i am a trip in the sidewalk he doesn’t remember

a roaring thing of the way back when

rose on the deepening glass coffin

he is every kiss i’ll say no to

throat wavers under a scar

dirt set over my nose

i’m not dead but his bones won’t settle in my past

#poetry #submission

the pins that tent my skin

are small campers ready climbing the mountain arms

of a rabid hungry love with arteries stuck to it’s paper teeth

sponge hands fog up the glass of the slimy shark tank

i gaze with starry eyes into this not forbidden

not unusual feeling

i sometimes sit before it

fork and knife

attempting to wrestle the grey spine

back down my heaving chest

laugh my dear

laugh when i take my finger and write

it’s a dog eat dog world

on the inside of your ribs

can’t lie through straight teeth his mother paid for

so she tells me her truth instead

he’s said he’s changed

imagine this conversation only lit by stars and a bic and his breath

he’s never been like that to me

imagine this conversation drawn out like spit between two lovers and the friend they didn’t tell

that’s all in his past

imagine this conversation in the present

the vertebrae shoots back up and bruises the tongue

the controlling chew that breaks the bone back down

has cracked and spilled until it’s just dust in my breath

the second lover guides a china plate between my silverware

he’s said he’s changed

lover places the blood knuckle of the first on the linen feast

he’s never been like that to me

lover places another blank femur under her friend’s chin

that’s all in his past

his hand looks naked pressed to my living fingers

Yes

there’s a crack and binding ache

it’s all in his past

my stomach that was growling for closure is heaving up the substitute

the water in the glass tank is handing me back a face that’s older than the one I am sitting in

it’s all in his past

i am a trip in the sidewalk he doesn’t remember

a roaring thing of the way back when

rose on the deepening glass coffin

he is every kiss i’ll say no to

throat wavers under a scar

dirt set over my nose

i’m not dead but his bones won’t settle in my past

#stories #inspiration #poetry #art #music #submission

The Reason

People are just creatures that everyone knows is hungry for even more emotions and feelings of loss and hopelessness. I, myself, have been in a type of thing where I am treated terribly and in the end got destroyed by bullies. Now I usually don't say this for pity, but I don't feel a purpose for myself anymore. It's always about other people and I always try to make it that way with the person I'm with. I'm not worth any money, love, or anything. I am just someone that needs to be sitting on the sidelines, watching the narcissists get what they are wanting. I say, within my heart, to let me be. To let me fly away into loneliness where I belong. The only reason anyone wants anything to do with me is because of pity. I mean Ding Dong, Hello, Yeah this is she, yeah the old Riley can't come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, because she is gone, into the abyss of poems where she belongs. I only ever do things so people will back off. I decided to become an ignoring, shallow, person. I think it is better that if I die, no one will care. If I go missing, no one worries about me. I can't live life fakery, like my dad has. I write these poems that truly show how I feel and other people don't realize that it is hard for another individual to be someone they are. I can't be happy, and be queer. I can't be happy and be in a relationship. I can't be happy with even my biological family is around. I have been truly broken because all of those fake people, who put all my printed work and effort because they are my shadow. But now, I'm going to be the shadow, for no reason. I came on this earth because God had a "plan". But look how far he made it. I'm saying this, the reason I wrote this, was to let everyone know....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................goodbye

#inspiration #submission

The Poems

Melanie Martinez,

she can turn her writing into something beautiful.

She has stopped sexism and misogniny.

she got so tired of how people turn it into twisted ways and hurting others.

Those people have hurt other people so bad, they hurt themselves.

She took her writing and expressed it to the world.

She made boys love girls and girls love boys.

She made men give respect towards the other gender.

She made sure that even though they have been hated they hate no one

#stories #poetry #submission

Horizontal Oppression

A community for our people

Who stand alone together

Strong enough to fight those who oppose

Those willing to break our barrier

For their own selfish deeds

We stand together

unbeknownst to us

That people within our walls

With blades for arms

choose instead of wrapping their arms around their fellow people

To stab them through the neck

Slandering their speech

Making them bleed out their livelihood

For they believe their speeches are more powerful

And their livelihood is worth the bloodshed of their own

To get a point across

That they don’t all agree with

Creating a dichotomy of people once united

For a selfish desire of control

Where control is not needed

#poetry #submission

Kindergarten

Learn your ABC'S

Everybody loves me

Down on one knee

We're getting married

In Kin-die

Kindergarten

Back to the original

Back to where it don't need any sense

Close your eyes, clench

Kissing your lips, quench

Flying high like a finch

In sports we are the bench

Stop acting a bossy bitch

My game is a glitch

My job, no niche

I need a sexual ride, hitch

They don't teach this

Shit, in Kindergarten

I beg your pardon

Grow your own flowers

Together we have powers

Only losers are cowards

My actual love towers

In life, it's boring

Judges are flooring

God is scoring

My tears are pouring

My heart is tearing

I'm accused of comparing

which fucker is real or fake

I know it is scary

To be called ugly

But just trust me

You are pretty

You are me

All this is

Is a reflection

Back down to when

I acted nice, like then in

Kindergarten

#poetry #submission

(We were asked to write a story about one important event we've lived, one thing we believe about the world, or one thing we believe about ourselves. I chose to write about one important event and one thing I believe about the world.)

December 1, 2020

I believe kindness is the key to everything

Picture this: It's 2008, the first day of kindergarten and you're very nervous because you're a terrible small-talker girl. It's still cold for your taste, so you wear your favorite jacket. Everyone is smart in class and the teacher put on Whitney Houston's music to help us concentrate. We go on a long break, everything seems cool until a girl from your class sits on a bench with some fresh bird's excrement. She starts crying out of frustration and shame and everyone laughs at her... But there is something about her red eyes that hurt your heart, so you go and hug her, and you take off your jacket to cover her pants until the day ends. The grateful smile and tight hug she gives you before running up to her mom makes you blush and you literally couldn't care less about your jacket, and you decide that wherever there's someone crying, you will take off your jacket.

-Abby (They/Them)

#inspiration #stories #submission

Kindness is the Key

(We were asked to write a story about one important event we've lived, one thing we believe about the world, or one thing we believe about ourselves. I chose to write about one important event and one thing I believe about the world.)

December 1, 2020

I believe kindness is the key to everything

Picture this: It's 2008, the first day of kindergarten and you're very nervous because you're a terrible small-talker girl. It's still cold for your taste, so you wear your favorite jacket. Everyone is smart in class and the teacher put on Whitney Houston's music to help us concentrate. We go on a long break, everything seems cool until a girl from your class sits on a bench with some fresh bird's excrement. She starts crying out of frustration and shame and everyone laughs at her... But there is something about her red eyes that hurt your heart, so you go and hug her, and you take off your jacket to cover her pants until the day ends. The grateful smile and tight hug she gives you before running up to her mom makes you blush and you literally couldn't care less about your jacket, and you decide that wherever there's someone crying, you will take off your jacket.

#inspiration #stories #submission

Privilege

(Written after accidentally being outed)

Why are my rights always in doubt?

While don't you ever need to shout?

Just by being myself, I could get arrested

Love and equality, why should they be requested?

I walk in the streets while singing out loud

About support, equality, and love

I get for my chosen name pursued,

Yet after all I'm the rude one?

There are two wolves inside me, untamed

Both of them for a divorce are always blamed

While with tears in my eyes I explained

There's so much more I've retained

I forgot to check my Zoom's name

While everyone hatred to me claimed

As a dumb-ass for everyone I was framed

You won't ever have to be ashamed

Abby (She/They)

#inspiration #stories #poetry #submission

1234 here comes the Arsonist knocking down your door This ones for the Og that’s me Weeks and weekends High and Low Here’s how this week’s finna go Middle of the week, new group of friends Tight knit group of Queers the fun never ends Step to comes in thrusday night writing my story Putting up a fight Edit revise Then cross out Write what you love have no doubt Trump v Biden While my POC people in the streets are dying When will we learn that it aint cool to hate Been like this too far back to date Love thy neighboor Hate thy Queer What kinda whack job show you runnin here Cross my heart hope to die In a world where I A Queer POC youth Aint afraid to share my truth Mirror Mirror When did we all start a war I’m tryna love while the police shootin down my door Us vs them When will it end

#poetry #music #submission

How I feel

My mind is like that weird place that my brother constantly dreams about. My feelings are like the Big City. It's usually shiny and happy. But, sometimes, the lights turn off and you feel really sad and alone. I'm constantly trap at the Loop Staircase. Always questioning things, getting stressed because I don't know the answer, finding answers, getting stressed because I know the answer and then repeating everything. I try to enter the Symphony Room, but I can't. "No one can go to the Symphony Room" the guards repeat when I try to enter. I don't know what's inside, but I know is great. Maybe, I could find a place where I could feel comfortable there.

-Samuel

#stories #submission

FPOW Short Poem (October 13, Tuesday)

(Based off the question “Where am I?”)

I am in a hidden mountain, Hoping life itself maintains I see dark skies everywhere I look But I need just a bit of light to hook

I hysterically laugh, not wanting to stop While writing poems, here, out loud The smile on my face won’t fade away I feel like I’ve finally found my way

My love has finally returned I don’t want it to be interrupted I won’t shut up again And I’ll try to be brave

#poetry #submission

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

the perfect future