Maxxx

She/He/They, Lesbian Lowkey writer - poetry, short stories, someday a book. This blog will mainly be whatever spilled words that may have meaning. ❤️

[jeepers-weepers-creepers]

I don’t want my grave to be sacred;

I want those who hated me to dance and spit on that stone,

Those who loved me to cry and scream about me leaving them alone;

Every horrible and wonderful thing that was never said to be spat at my name,

I don’t care if they leave flowers,

I’d rather someone deface it so some poor sap has to scrub it for hours.

‘Cause if my grave is sacred,

I really would be dead.

[minimalistquotes]

"Do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?"

[unwritten--writer]

For she is a beast

Feral and raging no longer leashed

Beautiful destruction in her wake

Cities and civilization shatter and break

Let the world burn as she did

Ash and ember the air is acrid

Let her retribution destroy us all

Pride will not save us we are destined for the fall

~Maxxx

[unwritten--writer]

I will not be saved.

~ Maxxx

[unwritten--writer]

Do you ever feel like you were not meant to be a person? Not like everyone else anyway. For everyone else it seems so easy, that beautiful connection to another human being, knowing another so deeply.

I have friends. I've had relationships. It always feels like a lie. To them. To me. I feel like everything I say, everything I do, every little microexpression, is carefully curated. It's no more than a mimic of the others I see, of the people I am around.

I can't be myself. Not just because I fear they won't like what lies beneath, but because I don't know if I know who I am. Not really.

I am a different person around my friends, around my family, around strangers. When I'm alone... I don't know how to behave, who I am supposed to be. I look in the mirror and I don't recognize the face staring back. They are a mimic, a fake. I can smile, I can laugh, I can cry, I can scream. It's not real.

None of it is real.

I practice in the reflection. What to say, how to look. How to be human in the way everyone else is. In the way that will make me fit in.

I can't tell you anything about myself. There's nothing to tell. I'm afraid that when you peel back the layers. When every act finally shatters-- there will be nothing left.

[unwritten--writer]

If god made me this way,

Of me she must despise.

Made in her image to suffer,

What a cruel price to pay.

-Maxxx-

[unwritten--writer]

Generational

I wish you would have protected me.

I wish you would have believed me,

But I can't hate you.

There were good times,

Times you held me, comforted me.

Nights lying beside you when everything hurt,

When I couldn't hold on, you were there,

But I can't love you.

I pity you,

Beneath the resentment,

Beneath the complex feelings,

I pity you.

I suppose you were the first victim of it all.

Everything that hurt me,

That made me feel small,

You knew first.

I hate you.

I love you.

Most of all,

I don't know if I can forgive you.

[wanderingsins]

[unwritten--writer]

Buried Alive.

~Maxxx

[mournfulroses]

Maria Zoccola, from a poem titled "the spartan women discuss the local waterfowl," featured in Helen Of Troy, 1993: Poems

[raelarkpoetry]

writing from the wreckage ✨

tender teeth, soft claws.

poetry • survival magic • zines

more: https://linktr.ee/raelarkpoetry

[paper-wounds]

[unwritten--writer]

Struggling with the thought of having to be medicated for the rest of my life. Trying to be positive about the fact that I am doing better, so just had to get these thoughts out. Thanks for reading <3

~Maxxx

[unwritten--writer]

I'm alive.

I'm alive.

I am alive.

I.

Am.

Alive.

[despazito]

[unwritten--writer]

~Born to explore, forced to remain static~

[girltalk]

You are not “too emotional.” You just feel deeply and that’s a beautiful thing.