[typical-hipster]

Complacency has made me restless.

Indecision isolates and I crave control wherever I can get it.

I'm not angry enough to change,

So my restless nights stay the same.

My graveyard shifts are filled with transparent metaphors.

Underutilized sleepless nights occupied with salt streams tracing my face.

There's no rhyme or reason to how I feel.

I gild the lily whenever I can.

Real life is nothing but a beautiful dream.

I'm happiest when I'm breaking myself down.

A constant state of tragedy is how I stay sane.

I gave it my all, knowing deep down that it's still not enough.

I long for silence, but I know I'm more comfortable with conflict.

I'm not a believer, but maybe if I learned to pray I could turn out okay.

Maybe I could turn my cowardice into martyrdom.

I could be someone worth loving.

I could learn to swim.

Knowing how to love, and knowing how to be loved in a way that matters are two very different things.

Too scared to break this thin line,

I hadn't realized it had wound itself around my throat.

Tossing and turning, I woke, breathless.

I'm so tired.

[typical-hipster]

In every Era of heartbreak I'd always had control.

Every angry thought and every reckless action was mine to hold.

This time was different.

The line between kindness and weakness was blurred.

While I'm on the run, you can let the smoke fill my place, I was never welcome anyway.

My love was pushed away.

Golden rules broken with no consideration.

I don't need your condescending air.

You were my sweet renegades always pressuring me out of my so called innocence.

Disappointed and crude when I held my ground.

Boundaries were crossed with no one saying a thing.

Secret discomfort left everyone with a funny feeling.

You never needed me, but I thought if I proved useful, you could learn to love me.

Maybe my compassion would make us equal.

Devoid of warmth you left me homesick.

The curse of a small town girl is to always be in crisis.

I pushed all that aside to lift you up.

You made me feel as though I owed you for taking up space.

I don't even think you'll notice my disappearance.

[typical-hipster]

To cold hands, warmth is scalding,

But after a while the burn turns into a craving.

One taste of happiness is enough to ruin one's life forever.

You took these broken bones and reduced them to ash.

Smothered me with an affection I've never felt before.

You warmed my face, but left my hands burning.

[typical-hipster]

It's much harder to be honest with the living,

But words spoken to the stone mean nothing,

All that is left behind is a dusty plot.

Memories hardly convey truth,

And a hazy regret clouded what could have been.

There were no ghosts left to haunt me,

I was free to venture out on my own.

I went everywhere except for where I was supposed to be.

Never learning how to read the stars,

I scoured the ocean for my future.

Drowing in uncertainty, I accepted my fate.

Summer lingered on the horizon,

as the winter left me for dead.

[typical-hipster]

I write down my jumbled thoughts and hope someone someday will understand them.

They aren't cohesive, the sentence structure threatens to collapse at any moment.

Still I build these paragraphs.

Ostentatiously I blurt my mind.

Every word is a stab of regret.

How could I hope for anyone to understand me if I can't understand myself?

I'm confused, lonely, ditzy.

What will I do when there's no one willing to listen to my ramblings?

I can't cope with being trapped in the corners of my mind.

I need someone to validify my non-existant words.

[typical-hipster]

The living verse grows on the vine,

Weaving itself into the shape of death.

The tawdry chain snaps

Freeing one, but leaving the other

A rare vicarious affair

Disappears in the presence of a grieving mother.

[typical-hipster]

I am hanging on by a thread.

And when you finally decide to cut me loose, who will I address the unwritten love letters to?

Who will haunt me in my sleep and leave me lonely in my waking hours?

You were a fever dream I experienced in my darkest hours.

Now I'm awake and can't seem to make sense of you.

And I'm sure it will all turn out to be a metaphor for something deep and pretentious.

But my paint brushes are stained with colors from my past.

I can't seem to wash all this away.

They say love is supposed to hurt

So strike me with an open palm before you go.

Make it swift.

Make it painful.

Make the sting last.

I don't want to forget your touch.

[typical-hipster]

And now I finally understand Icarus.

Willing to fly so high for someone he loved,

reaching for something so tantalizingly far.

Ready to accept the crash and burn, he understood it was inevitable.

Citing hubris for his downfall, when really it was his naivety.

His wax dreams melting away in an instant.

And I can't help but wonder if the fleeting moment of hope was worth the lasting heartbreak.

Because now I'm drunk on the pain, and I don't know if I want it to go away.

I longed for someone I didn't even know.

Barely strangers, yet I knew the way I loved you was more than a schoolgirl crush.

Because you promised to paint my gray skies shades of blue.

You assured me I would be safe with you.

Your golden glow lies were blinding.

The truth was glaring, but all I wanted was to feel warm.

I knew I would be left more broken than when you found me.

And yet I flew, I soared above it all to reach for you. I knew it wasn't possible.

I accepted it would end in flames.

So Icarus and I fell, hand in hand, drowning in our own hubris.

.

[typical-hipster]

Love.

You love everything.

Anything the world has to offer, you are there to take it all in.

Every person, animal, and plant is blessed with your tenderness.

And me?

What do I love?

I love you.

I would gladly worship you

But, you in all your regal cruelty

Decline Decline Decline

You tell me it's not personal

But the cracks spreading across my ribcage whisper otherwise.

Your fondness for me,

Does not match the weakness I have for you.

Although both could be called

Love.

[typical-hipster]

I wish I could let you into my head.

Show you all the things I want to say.

Perhaps you'll find all the half written lines of poetry I can no longer remember.

The hideous couplets,

The beautiful stanzas.

I should have had the foresight to write them down.

Now they are buried deep within my subconscious.

Maybe you'll see the things I tried to say before they died in my throat.

Confessions of love, hate, and indifference.

You'd notice the scenarios I play out over and over, the conversations that never took place on display just for you.

I want to be known.

I want to be judged.

Put me on trial!

I want every broken dream, every disruptive idea dragged into the light!

I want my greatest fears and worst accomplishments to be known!

I want my psyche to be completely and utterly destroyed!

And I need you to be the one to do it.

So please,

Look at my rotted cruel thoughts and know

I don't want forgiveness, but I still understand that you will grant it to me.

Even if it isn't yours to surrender.

[typical-hipster]

Dear Universe...

Wednesday January 8, 2020

Today I looked in the mirror and fell in love. Because of my environment it seems natural that I should hate myself. I fuck up a lot; but that just makes me human. I wasn't made perfect, I'll never be perfect. Perfect is relative. It means something different every individual. And I'm not going to break myself to be seen as perfect in someone else's eyes. When I look at my friends and family, I see people with flaws, deep flaws that make them far from "perfect". Though they are flawed, it does not make me love them any less. If I can love family and friends around me, then that means I am capable of loving myself. Flaws and all. Today I fell in love with the idea of not hating myself.

[typical-hipster]

Dear Universe

Thursday January 9, 2020

Today I took a walk. I wandered the streets of my hometown with an old man. I didn't know him. He didn't know me. So we walked in silence. As we meandered down the road the old man began to whistle a tune. Although I can't recall the melody , I do remember that it sounded like the ocean. It was calm and peaceful, with just a hint of danger lurking beneath the surface.

The old man finished his song when we reached the long abandoned train tracks on the outskirts of my town. He stopped walking and so did I. The old man smiled at me, his mouth seemed to hold an infinite number of teeth. It seemed an eternity before he spoke.

"I have walked this Earth for many years. I've seen people rise from the ashes of razed cities and immediately begin to rebuild. I've seen man turning on a fellow man. Your society is truly an awful thing." Here he paused for a moment. "Every time I think that I've figured you people out, you surprise me again and again and again. So I will ask you this: why are you so persistent? Why do you continue to try and survive, when your insignificant lives mean nothing to a cruel and unforgiving universe? How can a species this weak continue to prove themselves strong?"

I took a moment to ponder. "I don't know. Maybe we are just as cruel and unforgiving as that universe that forged us from ash and blood." With that I left the old man alone by the train tracks, he was no longer important to the story of man. Today I took a walk on the brink of humanity.

[typical-hipster]

I love personality quizzes because deep down I know that I will never truly know myself as much as I would like to.

I like it when people tell me who they think I am, because honestly i have no clue.

But that's sort of the point isn't it? I was so busy trying to survive that I never got the chance to be someone.

I got so lost in the noise, I was never able to hear my own voice. Sometimes I try to scream, but i just hear emptiness.

I don't like talking to new people, because they don't know who I am either. I don't want them to know how lacking I truly am.They ask questions I cannot provide an answer to.

Sometimes I truly believe that I am Empty. I am Nothing. Personalityless. I am endless with opportunity. A blank canvas. The idea that I am nobody is the most terrifying, exhilerant thought I have ever had.

I can create myself.

[typical-hipster]

The other day I decided to go on a walk,

It was meant to be short,

But I ended up falling asleep on a park bench.

When I awoke, the world had shifted.

Trees of all different species had grown around me.

My limbs were entangled with grass and various other plants.

It was clear I had been there a while,

Yet I felt no panic, for at this place, I was timeless. I was Nowhere.

I was not alone. There was a woman.

I had never seen her before, but I knew her.

She was everybody I had ever known and every stranger I had yet to meet all at once.

Taller than the trees, She looked down on me with a mixture of pity and sadness.

“Why do you insist on destroying yourself?”

I stood, looking up in silence.

“I did not create you so you could demolish the best pieces. So why are you filled with such self loathing?”

“Because” I responded. “the lines you used to make me are sharp and angry, I want to be soft”

“You are not meant to be soft edges, do not be ashamed of your resentment and anger,

It is an emotion meant to be felt. You were created to be sharp so you could survive.”

“Well, people would like me better if I were soft.” My argument was weak, and I knew it.

“Softness is not always a requirement for being loved.”

She continued “Your value does not correlate with your beauty. You are valuable,

For the simple fact that you are alive.”

Again, I stood in silence before answering

“Okay, so how I do stop hating myself”

“You must allow yourself the same kindness you give others.

You must be willing to allow yourself room to make mistakes.

You must let yourself be loved”

I nodded.

And then.

I woke up for the second time.

The park bench was cold and uncomfortable

[typical-hipster]

Fuck you

I never deserved what you did

I do not have to be grateful for my “trials”

I do not have to be glad that I went through what I did

Fuck you

You should have never hurt me

I do not have to forgive you

I do not have to be kind to you

Fuck you

I’m still angry

I do not have to apologize for that

I do not have to be strong for others' sake

Fuck you

It’s been years and I’m still healing

So yeah

Fuck you

[typical-hipster]

What does it mean to love?

Love is what keeps us alive.

No, not the type of love you are thinking of.

It is the kind that is woven into the very fibers of one’s being.

It is the love a poet has for her muse.

It is the passions of artists and bakers and writers and musicians.

It is the kindness in a helpful stranger's eyes.

It is a mother looking at her child for the first time.

Love is angry and bold.

Love is the anger that brews from injustice.

Love is what prompts change,

Love keeps us alive by providing the fire that warms us even in our darkest days.

[papercutsunset]

Blasphemer’s Church

I am building a church

in the space between my bones:

bland, tasteful furniture,

portraits of White Mormon Jesus standing at the door.

Blasphemer,

Blasphemer,

do you know what you’ve done?

Can you fathom the weight

of your symbolic sin?

.

It rests in the cartilage

that bends when I breathe–

steeples stretching up through my nose,

bells tolling in my brain.

Blasphemer,

Blasphemer,

sing a hymn for us.

Harmonize with the giant pipes

made of your femurs and blood.

.

Spongy bone and carpeted walls

line the inside of my faith

like stained glass windows

and crumbs of bread.

Blasphemer,

Blasphemer,

it’s time to repent.

Lift your eyes up to heaven

and try not to choke on your confessions.

[typical-hipster]

Wow🥺 I felt this on such a personal level. Your writing is amazing