writing time :•)

hello!! this is my writing/poetry/whatever account. please call me Milo. he/him and she/her

[tiny-nothere]

Boiled Bone

A fun surprise sits on the rocks!

It sits

and it sits

and it sits.

Sometimes

it even floats.

Remnants of an old deer

forcibly torn away from its thigh

by slow hands

a billion hands.

But two, kinder hands this time,

drag it away from a bustling world

where it had been worn

torn

broken

stained

lived in.

If I shook hands

with the blue and black world

and returned to it what now sits on my dresser,

where do you think the world would take it?

I'm going to make it clean again.

I'll boil it white.

I'll stare

and touch

admire its bumps and cracks.

The blue and black world would never do this.

But the remnants of a deer I never knew

will outlive me, you know that?

It may very well decide to return home.

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The Grin of a Wealthy Woman

There once was a cold woman.

She lived alone in her cold city

Alone with her cold, metal coins.

She had no concept of her wealth, only the beauty of it

She bathed in the magnificence of ownership

The light glinting off of the various metals were like gentle kisses to her eyes

Each design and form the coins took filled her with a dangerous excitement,

and she wished to pour every ounce of herself over her treasures.

To lose herself completely was a dream.

A very cold night came along. The coins were as cold as ever.

And suddenly, she couldn't take it any longer.

The fires of her passion melted her to death, with her coins in hand.

It was a shocking night for the local blacksmith.

The smell was wretched, but her final smile shown to the world as she leaped to her flaming death,

was glorious.

I have etched it into my skull as a reminder.

[tiny-nothere]

Uhh a title that makes you feel like biting others

Cups of urine. All over.

Deceiving in nature. A foul smell.

Fucking animal, you were doing so good

She spoke too soon.

I walk straight into a wall of artificial flowers, it's not fun.

Reminds me of the woman who decided to put hand sanitizer on her pink baked goods.

Stomp out the stigma! A pink cupcake for all. I gag.

I thought stereotypical femininity would taste better. Bleh.

Anyways. The flowers weren't as bad as the urine.

It permeated the air mysteriously. She couldn't find from where! What a bad day.

She swore and ranted, a common occurrence.

I found it.

But the flowers are still here

[tiny-nothere]

I wrote this semi recently! Here is a poem.

Fertile Dirt and Saplings

I met you when I was just young and witty

I thought not much of you, but soon that changed

It changed quietly but with haste, just as the years of a child slip away,

and just as beautiful as any blossoming flower

that I will ever see.

These months of empty have planted a seed

and the gods of loneliness have placed their palms upon it, encouraging it to grow,

to reach as high as the sky, and stretch wide to every sea

So now you have taken root deep in my mind

What a lovely tree, I hope you plan to stay

I know nothing lasts, that has been ingrained in my soul

But this land has never felt the magnificence of a tree such as you

stirring up its soils

And I fear that if you die, the dirt may never yield life again

beyond insects, whispers of broken dreams

and lonely nights

You fit quite comfortably in my land of small saplings

And when the sun beats down heavily upon it, you provide shade

And when the rain pours upon it, you provide shelter

But sometimes as I rest with you, sprawling across your branches,

maddening shrieks will ring out in the night

Wails of misery, stating clearly that neither I nor you may stay forever,

Because my lovely tree will never love me beyond the lands of fertile dirt and saplings.

The truth echoes through my heart

And for a moment I can feel the discomfort of your bark

And I remember you aren't growing for me, you are growing for the sake of growing.

And I will never be a tree in the field of you mind. Trees don't have a mind.

And neither do drawings.

But I've climbed so high! I can nearly reach the gods that blessed you to life

and I don't want to fall to the ground, I don't wish to have that pain

So instead I will lie here with you, madly in love

for as long as I can.

The formless wails ring out, they say they plan to stay

But I'll pay them no mind the best I can

And I'll watch your beauty in awe while my world feeds you,

and I'll smile.

I will never be able to actually touch you, my dear tree

But there is no harm in doing so

In my land of fertile dirt and saplings.