☭ billions must heal ☭

19 twilight she/they🏳️‍⚧️ poet of confessional decay I post sometimes

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

I've decayed beyond repair,

Bound to this terra

as a corpse in a living mask.

Maybe this was always my fate,

forced to rot louder

than you ever loved.

But since you left,

I buried a blæd deep

into rotting skin.

And to the ones

who, for some reason,

cared—

I will let you all

down in the end.

There are no surprises;

when I have died,

I will greet the oldest friend—

one whose decadence deifies

every meaningless bullshit.

All that seems to remain

is a quiet ache

Ignored somewhere

within your time...

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

I remember not your voice,

yet the feeling

of your touch,

coursing through

a body lost within time—

etched corrosion to

what's left of meine.

Don't tell me

your hjärta loves me—

my decayed nature

might bloom

to your pitiful mendacity.

I fear...

I would believe any fabulism

your dulcet whispers tell.

-twilightstruggleswithlove

Keywords

Hjärta (yarta): old Swedish word for heart.

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

Over 60 attempts and I still fail even at killing myself :/ I'm a suicidal failure

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

our souls

were from the same star,

but when my soul

was star-crossed

upon seeing your hjärta—

my flæsc cannot sheath

the blood that drips

for a fragile breath.

Racked within

My misfeng

surely my flæsc

cannot withhold

the stitching of you.

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

Keywords

Flæsc (flash) middle English word for flesh.

Misfeng (missfang) old English word for mistake.

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

I'll carve her into my own self,

my own flesh,

to save the girl

that goes to rack and ruin

deep within—

This borrowed vessel.

Each cut, shaping

to fit their perfect mold.

Yet inside,

I hear

a voice smothered

by myocyte and bones,

pleading to breathe

in her own skin—

I feel I suppressed

her too much

with every silence,

and I fear

I’ve already

killed her,

But behind the bitter decadence,

Deep within Myocyte and bones,

holds a quiet little lamb

Caged in corroded flesh

Wishing to be set free.

She's forced to suffer

In a body

Not deserving of

her beauty—

I hope to slice what's left

From a corse long,

deteriorated

For what flæsc remains

I'll pare.

Stitching the threads

For my

Own perfection—

Will I truly be seen?

Maybe then could she breathe?

Or will this sufferance kill her—

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

Keywords

Corse (kors): middle English word for corpse.

Flæsc (flash): middle English word for flesh.

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

Behind my decayed nature.

I’m a little baby goat,

but you see me as

a black hole demon.

It hurts—

Of course it fucking hurts.

My horns grow thin,

slowly

withering—

to your ficol, doucet voice.

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

Keywords

Ficol (fy-kol): old English word to be deceitful,

Crafty, False or Treacherous.

Doucet (doo-say): old french word for pleasant or gentle.

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

If I were to tell you

I’ll die tomorrow—

whether it be

a gruesome sight

for such

unsċyldiġ ēagan

to see, or perhaps a

serene, quiet-filled death

that couldn’t satisfy

your Machiavellian

gemynd.

Could you notice my signs

before the time runs out?

Or were the previous

ad nauseam—

my mental state frore

in melancholia,

gradually decaying

within your naïve

memories.

With each second,

time shatters;

soon it will expire—

ticking for an answer

which knows no bound.

I wonder not if fate bound me,

but whether the silence

you show ever loosened.

For your Machiavellian gemynd,

silence wasn’t fate—

it’s the choice you studied.

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

Keywords

unsċyldiġ (oon-shool-dij): old English word for innocent.

ēagan (ee-guhn): old English word for eyes.

Gemynd (yeh-moond) old English word for memory or mind.

machiavellian (Mak-ee-uh-vel-ee-uhn):

A word to describe someone who is manipulative and lacking empathy.

Ad nauseam (Ad-naw-zee-um): a latin phrase to a sickening degree/ to the point of nausea

Frore (for): middle English word for frozen

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

a inevitable fate

A clock will always show time

The hour glass will always

show the same fate

Wether it's platonic,

familial,romance,

or a bond to a pet.

its bound—

For the same fate—

It doesn't matter who it is they all

End the same way

Time is not restricted

Bounded to desires

Of the Homo-genus

In the end

It was as if time

was non-existent

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

You chose him; I chose the sufferance

It’s not fair how he could love you,

but not me.

I’m stuck in a Perpetual state—

to love ones who won’t notice.

Still I ask

Was I ever enough for you?

I’ve seen you

through each written script

that drips with blood

from your soft,

delicate wrists.

Each tear shed

from your mellifluous voice—

I bite the dagger

with each line written on this page.

Ic hatie mein sylfne,

a love-desire

that drives such a state

towards selfbana.

You chose to be with him,

but my bounded wounds

are stitched to you.

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

Keywords

Perpetual (pr-peh-choo-uhl): latin word meaning never ending occurring repeatedly.

mellifluous (muh-li-floo-uhs): sweet or pleasant to hear.

Ic hatie mīn sylfne (ish haah-tee-eh meen sylv-neh): old English phrase meaning I hate myself.

Self bana (self bah-nah): old English for self killer.

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

Bysmir

A text from an unknown number—

a bysmir of me,

thinking it could have been

an oulde lufend

finally showing their feelings.

But met with a distant foe again.

How wretched of me

to think for an instant

your voice wouldn't

be a faded memory,

that it wasn't a whisper

so distant within time.

But even then,

I wish to shed a tear—

not a waterfall

of sorrow,

just a raindrop.

Just one would do.

So, for an instance,

to feel what it's like

to be you.

I was desirous

of you—

a flame of aspiration.

But maybe I forgot

what pain truly felt like.

Was I too numb

to remember

how it used to burn?

It would have been delightful

to hear your words—

Even if my ears were

debarred to listen.

Was this a parallel where you cared,

or will it only be

heard within my delusions?

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

The urge to just

feel absolute numbness again—

So I couldn't yearn

for relationships

that'll never be.

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

I am glad I had met you.

For once I don't feel

like I am as alone

in this world.

I don't get why you

Would think I'm "cool"

But I know

there will come a day

you'll want to call.

My wrists

will be flooded,

coated in red,

flowing like the forbidden

waterfall.

My arms,

hanging by one single rotted

piece of flesh—

I won't answer

for the first time.

Will you see the signs

within my despairing

nature?

My aching screams

to be heard

Was met with a silence

Beyond the void.

You might question:

would the thought come to reality?

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

🐾Somewhere

for your paws🐾

I love you, kitty—

but I know you’re tired of me.

I hear it in your soft little meow

And see it within your stare.

You would have to be.

Maybe I could take you

to the forest,

let your paws touch

the dead autumn leaves

and play like you used to.

Perhaps I’ll follow slowly

to the pond and hold you—

somewhere

your worries could fade away.

Would you like that, kitty?

Would you like that, Lilith?

-twilightstruggleswithlove

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

I don't know why

I tend to fall for the ones

who'll never notice.

I wallow in my self-pity,

carving for you to love

something that isn't new

to a decayed nature—

I'm a romantic nihilist,

cursed to view love

as if it were withering away.

But yet I yearn

for it.

Will you lift my curse?

Or am I bounden

within pitiful lies?

I bleed

for a pulse—

an answer.

-Twilightstruggleswithlove

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

the words you

spoke that night—

bled out.

I cannot remember

how they went,

but each memory

still bleeds like new....

-Twiliightstruggleswithlove

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

will I hear your hjärta?...

ever since you last spoke,

I search hoping to find

your voice, a sign

of some hope.

But I seem to only find

the dead of night

to be abnormally voided.

Not a whisper.

only in the distance,

a quiet plea of longing

drifts faintly through the dark chambers.

Maybe your hjärta will ache

deeply within mine

i'm ineffectual

to hear a slight pulsation

of your hjärta

the echos of silence

bysmir.

-twilightstruggleswithlove

Keywords

Hjärta (yarta): old Swedish word for heart.

Bysmir (bees-mer) old English word for mockery.

[twilightstruggleswithlove]

Has the tree that gave all hope been

Chopped down

And  Am I as living as the hatred

you feel for me, or have I withered

like the love I thought you had for me?

I can't remember why you left, or

how long it's been — maybe a few days,

months, years, or a few seconds.

Time has shattered and feels so unconnected

I used to see you, but now it's all so

distorted —

like how I hated  the sand once,

but now I just want to be buried in it.

if I saw you in public in a year,

maybe at the store or at the park,

would you go up to me?

Would you even recognize it's me,

or have I turned into a blurry, stained image

from your past?

And when I die will you notice

Will my  tombstone be covered

With grass,moss unrecognizable

Forever lost within your time

I fear this is truth —

that it’s no longer some poem

Written on this page

Can this be reality

-Twilightstruggleswithlove